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                      THE HARRIS-INGRAM EXPERIMENT

                       By CHARLES E. BOLTON, M.A.

AUTHOR OF "A MODEL VILLAGE AND OTHER PAPERS," "TRAVELS IN EUROPE AND
AMERICA," ETC.

                                CLEVELAND

                      THE BURROWS BROTHERS COMPANY

                                   1905




TO MY WIFE
SARAH KNOWLES BOLTON
AND MY SON
CHARLES KNOWLES BOLTON




INTRODUCTION


This volume was ready for publication when my husband died, October 23,
1901. In it, in connection with a love story and some foreign travel, he
strove to show how necessary capital and labor are to each other. He had
always been a friend to labor, and there were no more sincere mourners at
his funeral than the persons he employed. He believed capital should be
conciliatory and helpful, and co-operate with labor in the most friendly
manner, without either party being arrogant or indifferent.

Mr. Bolton took the deepest interest in all civic problems, and it is a
comfort to those who loved him that his book, "A Model Village and Other
Papers," came from the press a few days before his death. He had hoped
after finishing a book of travel, having crossed the ocean many times and
been in many lands, and doing some other active work in public life, to
take a trip around the world and rest, but rest came in another way.

Sarah K. Bolton

Cleveland, Ohio.




PREFACE


Mr. W.D. Howells, in reply to a literary society in Ashtabula County,
Ohio, said that most people had within their personal experience one
book.

I have often quoted Howells's words to my best friend, who has written a
score of books, and the answer as frequently comes, "Why not write a book
yourself?" Encouraged by Howells's belief, and stimulated by the accepted
challenge of my friend, to whom I promised a completed book in twelve
months, I found time during a very busy year to pencil the chapters that
follow. Most of the book was written while waiting at stations, or on the
cars, and in hotels, using the spare moments of an eight-months' lecture
season, and the four months at home occupied by business.

I am aware that some critics decry a novel written with a purpose. Permit
me therefore in advance to admit that this book has a double purpose: To
test the truth of Howells's words as applied to myself; and to describe a
journey, both at home and abroad, which may possibly be enjoyed by the
reader, the inconveniences of travel being lessened by incidentally
tracing a love story to a strange but perhaps satisfactory conclusion;
the whole leading to the evolution of a successful experiment, which in
fragments is being tried in various parts of the civilized world.




CONTENTS


Chapter I
The Harrises in New York

Chapter II
Mr. Hugh Searles of London Arrives

Chapter III
A Bad Send-off

Chapter IV
Aboard the S.S. Majestic

Chapter V
Discomfitures at Sea

Chapter VI
Half Awake, Half Asleep

Chapter VII
Life at Sea a Kaleidoscope

Chapter VIII
Colonel Harris Returns to Harrisville

Chapter IX
Capital and Labor in Conference

Chapter X
Knowledge is Power

Chapter XI
In Touch with Nature

Chapter XII
The Strike at Harrisville

Chapter XIII
Anarchy and Results

Chapter XIV
Colonel Harris Follows his Family Abroad

Chapter XV
Safe Passage, and a Happy Reunion

Chapter XVI
A Search for Ideas

Chapter XVII
The Harrises Visit Paris

Chapter XVIII
In Belgium and Holland

Chapter XIX
Paris, and the Wedding

Chapter XX
Aboard the Yacht "Hallena"

Chapter XXI
Two Unanswered Letters

Chapter XXII
Colonel Harris's Big Blue Envelope

Chapter XXIII
Gold Marries Gold

Chapter XXIV
The Magic Band of Beaten Gold

Chapter XXV
Workings of the Harris-Ingram Experiment

Chapter XXVI
Unexpected Meetings

Chapter XXVII
The Crisis




THE HARRIS-INGRAM EXPERIMENT




CHAPTER I

THE HARRISES IN NEW YORK


It was five o'clock in the afternoon, when a bright little messenger boy
in blue touched the electric button of Room No. ---- in Carnegie Studio,
New York City. At once the door flew open and a handsome young artist
received a Western Union telegram, and quickly signed his name, "Alfonso
H. Harris" in the boy's book.

"Here, my boy, is twenty-five cents," he said, and tore open the message,
which read as follows:--

  Harrisville,--.

  _Alfonso H. Harris,
  Carnegie Studio, New York._

  We reach Grand Central Depot at 7:10 o'clock tomorrow evening in our
  new private car Alfonso. Family greetings; all well.

  Reuben Harris.

Alfonso put the telegram in his pocket, completed packing his steamer
trunk, wrote a letter to his landlord, enclosing a check for the last
quarter's rent, and ran downstairs and over to the storage company, to
leave an order to call for two big trunks of artist's belongings, not
needed in Europe.

A hansom-cab took him to the Windsor Hotel, where he almost forgot to pay
his barber for a shave, such was his excitement. A little dry toast, two
soft boiled eggs, and a cup of coffee were quite sufficient, since his
appetite, usually very good, somehow had failed him.

It was now fifteen minutes to seven o'clock. In less than half an hour
Alfonso was to meet his father, mother, and sisters, and after a few days
in the metropolis, join them in an extended journey over the British
Isles, and possibly through portions of Europe.

Alfonso was the only son of Reuben Harris, a rich manufacturer of iron
and steel. His father, a man naturally of very firm will, had earnestly
longed that his only son might succeed him in business, and so increase
and perpetuate a fortune already colossal. It was a terrible struggle for
Harris senior to yield to his son's strong inclination to study art, but
once the father had been won over, no doubt in part by the mother's
strong love for her only boy, he assured Alfonso that he would be loyal
to him, so long as his son was loyal to his profession. This had given
the boy courage, and he had improved every opportunity while in New York
to acquaint himself with art, and his application to study had been such
that he was not only popular with his fellow artists, but they recognized
that he possessed great capacity for painstaking work.

Alfonso jumped into a coupé, having ordered a carriage to follow him to
the Grand Central Station. It was ten minutes yet before the express was
due. Nervously he puffed at his unlighted cigar, wishing he had a match;
in fact, his nerves were never more unstrung. It was a happy surprise,
and no doubt his youthful vanity was elated, that his father should have
named his new palace car "Alfonso." At least it convinced him that his
father was loyal.

As the coupé stopped, he rushed into the station, just in time to see the
famous engine No. 999 pull in. She was on time to a second, as indicated
by the great depot clock. A ponderous thing of life; the steam and air
valves closed, yet her heavy breathing told of tremendous reserve power.
What a record she had made, 436-1/2 miles in 425-3/4 minutes! Truly,
man's most useful handiwork, to be surpassed only by the practical dynamo
on wheels! It was not strange that the multitude on the platform gazed in
wonder.

There at the rear of the train was the "Alfonso," and young Harris in
company with his artist friend, Leo, who by appointment had also hastened
to the station, stepped quickly back to meet the occupants of the new
car.

First to alight was Jean, valet to the Harris family. Jean was born near
Paris and could speak French, German, and several other languages. His
hands and arms were full to overflowing of valises, hat boxes, shawls,
canes, etc., that told of a full purse, but which are the very things
that make traveling a burden.

By this time Alfonso had climbed the car steps and was in his mother's
arms. Mrs. Harris was more fond, if possible, of her only son than of her
beautiful daughters. She was a handsome woman herself, loved dress and
was proud of the Harris achievements. Alfonso kissed his sisters, Lucille
and Gertrude, and shook hands warmly with his father, who was busy giving
instructions to his car conductor.

Alfonso in his joy had almost forgotten his friend Leo, but apologizing,
he introduced him, first to his mother, then to Gertrude and finally to
his sister Lucille, and their father. All seemed glad to meet their son's
friend, as he was to take passage in the same steamer for his home near
Rome.

Leo Colonna was connected with the famous Colonna family of Italy. From
childhood he had had access to the best schools and galleries of his
peninsular country. He also had studied under the best masters in Paris
and Berlin, and was especially fond of flesh coloring and portrait
painting. He had studied anatomy, and had taken a diploma as surgeon in
the best medical college in Vienna, merely that he might know the human
form. Alfonso, aware of all this, had invited Leo to join their party in
making the tour over Ireland, England, and through the Netherlands.

As Lucille left the car, Leo offered aid, taking her blue silk umbrella
with its wounded-oak handle, the whole rolled as small as a cane. Lucille
never appeared to better advantage. She was tall, slender, and graceful.
Excitement had tinged her cheeks and lips, and her whole face had a
child's smooth, pink complexion. Wavy black hair and blue eyes revealed
the Irish blood that had come from the mother's veins. She wore a
traveling suit of navy-blue serge. Her hat, of latest style, was made of
black velvet, steel ornaments, and ostrich tips. What artist could resist
admiring a woman so fair and commanding! The dark eyes of Leo had met
those of Lucille, and he at once had surrendered. In fact, a formidable
rival had now conquered Leo's heart.

Together they led the way to the front entrance of the station, while
Harris senior delayed a moment to exhibit the car "Alfonso" to his son.
"I had this private car built," said the father, "that the Harris family
might be exclusive. Napoleon once said:--'Let me be seen but three times
at the theatre, and I shall no longer excite attention.' Our car is
adapted for service on any standard gauge road, so that we can travel in
privacy throughout the United States. You notice that this observation
room is furnished in quartered English oak, and has a luxurious sofa and
arm chairs. Let us step back. Here on the right are state and family
rooms finished in mahogany; each room has a connecting toilet room,
with wash stand and bath room, hot and cold water being provided, also
mirrors, wardrobe and lockers. The parlor or dining room is eighteen feet
long and the extension table will seat twelve persons. Here also is a
well selected library and writing desk."

"But where is the kitchen?" asked Alfonso.

"Beyond," said the father. "The pantry, china closet, and kitchen are
finished in black walnut. Blankets, linen, and tableware are of best
quality. Here are berths for attendants and porter's room for baggage.
Carpets, rugs, draperies, and upholstery were especially imported to
harmonize. Nobody amounts to much in these days, Alfonso, unless he owns
a private car or a steam yacht. Henceforth this car, named in your honor,
may play an important part in the history of the Harris family."

Mrs. Harris, Leo, and Lucille, took seats in the carriage; Gertrude and
her mother were on the back seat, while Lucille and her artist friend
faced Mrs. Harris and daughter.

Jean sat upright with the coachman. Colonel Harris and Alfonso rejoined
their friends and together entered the coupé. Reuben Harris once served
on the governor's staff for seven weeks, ranking as colonel, so now all
his friends, even his family, spoke of him as "the Colonel." It was well,
as it pleased his vanity.

The coachmen's whips left their sockets, and coupé and carriage dashed
along 42nd Street and down Fifth Avenue. The ten minutes' drive passed as
a dream to some in the carriage. Mrs. Harris's mind revelled in the
intricate warfare of society. She had often been in New York, and in
the summers was seen at the most fashionable watering places with her
children. Her mind was burdened trying to discover the steps that lead to
the metropolitan and international "four hundred." She was determined
that her children should marry into well regulated families, and that the
colonel should have a national reputation. So absorbed was she that her
eyes saw not, neither did her ears hear what transpired in the carriage.
Gertrude was equally quiet; her thoughts were of dear friends she had
left in Harrisville. The occupants of the front seats had talked in low
tones of recent society events in New York, and a little of art. Lucille
herself had dabbled in color for a term or two in a fashionable school on
the Back Bay in Boston.

The colonel had become enthusiastic in his talk about his own recent
business prosperity. Suddenly coupé and carriage stopped in front of the
main entrance of the Hotel Waldorf. How fine the detail of arch and
columns! How delicate the architect's touch of iron and glass in the
porte-cochère!

The Harris family stepped quickly into the public reception-room to the
left of the main entrance adjoining the office, leaving Jean and the
porter to bring the hand-baggage. The decorated ceiling framed a central
group of brilliant incandescent lights with globes. Leo directed
attention to the paintings on the walls, and furniture and rugs.

The colonel excused himself and passed out and into the main offices. The
sight about him was an inspiring one. The architect's wand had wrought
grace and beauty in floor, ceiling, column, and wall. Gentlemen, old and
young, were coming and going. Professional men, not a few, bankers and
business men jostled each other. Before the colonel had reached the
clerk's desk, he had apologized, twice at least, for his haste. The fact
was that metropolitan activity delighted his heart, but it disturbed just
a little his usual good behavior. Nervously, he wrote in the Waldorf
register plain Reuben Harris, wife and two daughters. He wanted to prefix
colonel. His son added his own name. Colonel Harris, at his request, was
given the best apartments in the Waldorf.

Leo excused himself for the night, Lucille saying the last words in low
tones, and then, liveried attendants conducted the Harris family to their
suite of rooms. It was half past eight when the Harrises sat down to
their first meal in their private dining-room. As Mrs. Harris waited for
her hot clam soup to cool a little, she said, "Reuben, this exclusiveness
and elegance is quite to my liking. After our return from Europe, why
can't we all spend our winters in New York?"

"No, mother," said Gertrude, "we have our duties to the people of
Harrisville, and father, I am sure, will never stay long away from his
mills."

But Lucille approved her mother's plan, and was seconded by her brother.
Colonel Harris was interested in the views expressed, but with judicial
tone, he replied, "The Harrises better wait till the right time comes.
Great financial changes are possible in a day."

The dinner, though late, was excellent. Before ten o'clock all were glad
to retire, except the head of the family, who hoped the night would be
short, as the next day might witness very important business
transactions.

Colonel Harris took the elevator down to the gentlemen's café, adjoining
the beautiful Garden Court. For a moment he stood admiring the massive
fire-place and the many artistic effects, mural and otherwise. The café
was furnished with round tables and inviting chairs. Guests of the hotel,
members of city clubs, and strangers, came and went, but the colonel's
mind was in an anxious mood, so he sought a quiet corner, lighted a
cigar, and accidently picked up the _Evening Post_. Almost the first
thing he read was an item of shipping news:

  "No word yet from the overdue steamship 'Majestic;' she is already
  forty-eight hours late, and very likely has experienced bad weather."

The "Majestic" is one of the largest and best of the famous White Star
Line fleet. Colonel Harris expected an English gentleman to arrive by
this boat, and he had come on to New York to meet him, as the two had
business of great importance to talk over. "I wonder," thought the
colonel, "if such a thing could happen, that my cherished plan of
retiring with millions, might possibly be frustrated by ship-wreck or any
unlooked-for event?" Whereupon he pulled from his pocket a cablegram, to
make himself doubly sure that his was not a fool's errand, and again read
it in audible tones:

  London, May 24, 18--.
  _Col. Reuben Harris,
  Hotel Waldorf, New York._

  Hugh Searles, our agent, sails May twenty-fifth on Majestic. Meet him
  at Hotel Waldorf, New York.

  Guerney & Barring.

The signers of the cablegram were young bankers and brokers, occupying
sumptuous quarters on Threadneedle Street, in sight of the Bank of
England, the Exchange, and the Mansion House or official residence of the
Lord Mayor of London. The fathers of each member of the firm had been at
the head of great banking houses in London for many years, and after
herculean efforts, their banks had failed. These young men had united
families and forces, and resolved to win again a financial standing in
the world's metropolis. Shrewdly they had opened a score of branch
offices in different parts of London and county; besides they had added
a brokerage business, which had drifted into an extensive specialty of
promoting syndicates in America and the colonies. Their success in
handling high grade manufacturing plants had been phenomenal. Already at
this business they had netted two million pounds. Reliable and expert
accountants were always sent by them to examine thoroughly a client's
ledgers. Already, bonds that carried the approval of Guerney & Barring,
found ready market on Lombard, Prince, and other financial streets near
the Bank of England.

Colonel Harris relighted his cigar and queried to himself, "What ought I
to charge these Englishmen for a property that cost barely two millions,
but that has brought to the Harris family, annually for ten years, an
average of 30%, or $600,000?" At first he had fixed upon six millions as
a fair price, and then finally upon five million dollars. While he thus
reflected, he fell asleep. It was after eleven o'clock when the Waldorf
attendant caught him, or he would have fallen from his chair to the
floor. Colonel Harris gave him a piece of silver, and retired for the
night.




CHAPTER II

HUGH SEARLES OF LONDON ARRIVES


The next day was Sunday, and the Harris family slept late. Jean was first
to rise, and buying the morning papers left them at Colonel Harris's
door.

It was almost nine o'clock when the family gathered in their private
dining-room. The night's sleep had refreshed all. The mother was very
cheerful over her coffee, and heartily enjoyed planning for the day. She
liked New York best of the American cities. Brown stone and marble
fronts, fine equipage and dress, had charms for her, that almost made
her forget a pleasant home and duties at Harrisville. She was heart and
soul in her husband's newest scheme to close out business, and devote
the balance of life to politics and society. Naturally therefore the
table-talk drifted to a discussion of the possible causes of the
steamer's delay.

Lucille looked up, and said, "Father, the _Tribune_ says, 'Fair weather
for New England and the Atlantic coast.' Cheer up! The 'Majestic' will
bring your Englishman in, I think. This is a lovely day to be in the
metropolis. Come father, let me sweeten your coffee. One or two lumps?"

"Two, my dear, if you please. Now what will give you all the most
pleasure to-day?"

Alfonso answered, "Why not take a drive, and possibly attend some
church?"

This plan was approved. Breakfast over, the Harris family entered
a carriage, and the coachman, with Jean by his side, drove through
Washington Square, under the American Arch of Triumph, and out Fifth
Avenue, the fashionable street of New York. Alfonso acted as guide. "This
white sepulchral looking building on the left at the corner of 34th
street is where A.T. Stewart, the Irish merchant prince, lived."

Gertrude remarked, "How true in his case, the proverb 'Riches certainly
make themselves wings; they fly away, as an eagle towards heaven.'"

"You should quote Scripture correctly, my child," said the mother.
"'Riches take wings.'"

"No, no, mamma--I am sure that I am right. 'Riches _make_ themselves
wings' and the proverb is as true to-day as in Solomon's time."

"Well, Gertrude, we will look at the hotel Bible on our return."

"Yes, mamma, if the hotel has one."

Colonel Harris responded, "I think Gertrude is right. Stewart's millions
have changed hands. Dead men have no need of dollars. No wonder Stewart's
bones were restless."

"Here at West 39th Street is the sumptuous building of the Union League
Club. It has over 1500 members, all pledged to absolute loyalty to the
Government of the United States, to resist every attempt against the
integrity of the nation, and to promote reform in national, state, and
municipal affairs. The club equipped and sent two full regiments to the
front in the Civil War."

Alfonso pointed out Jay Gould's old residence, more club houses,
libraries, the Windsor Hotel, Dr. Hall's handsome Presbyterian Church,
and the brown stone and marble palaces of the Vanderbilt family, two
miles of splendid residences and magnificent churches before you reach
Central Park at 59th Street.

The walks were thronged with beautiful women and well dressed men. It was
now 10:30 o'clock. The chimes had ceased their hallowed music. People of
all nationalities were jostling each other in their haste to enter St.
Patrick's Cathedral, a copy of the Gothic masterpiece in Cologne, and the
most imposing church building in America.

The Harris carriage stopped; Lucille's heart suddenly began to beat
quickly, for she saw Leo Colonna hastening from the Cathedral steps
towards the carriage. "Good morning, Mrs. Harris! Glad you have come to
my church," Leo said; then taking her hand cordially, he added, "And
you have brought the family. Well, I am pleased, for you could not have
come to a more beautiful church or service."

As Leo conducted his friends up the granite steps, all were enthusiastic
in their praise of the Fifth Avenue façade; white marble from granite
base to the topmost stones of the graceful twin spires.

All passed under the twelve apostles, that decorate the grand portal,
and entered the cathedral. The interior is as fine as the exterior. The
columns are massive, the ceiling groined; the style is the decorated or
geometric architecture, that prevailed in Europe in the thirteenth
century. The cardinal's gothic throne is on the right. The four altars
are of carved French walnut, Tennessee marble and bronze. Half of the
seventy windows are memorials, given by parishes and individuals in
various parts of America. The vicar-general was conducting services. His
impressive manner, aided by the sweet tones of singers and organ, and the
sun's rays changed to rainbows by the stained-glass windows, produced
a deep religious feeling in the hearts of the several thousand persons
present.

As the party left the church, Leo said, "In 1786, the Kings of France and
Spain contributed to the erection of the first cathedral church, St.
Peter's, in New York." The Harrises having invited Leo to dinner, said
good-bye to him, and in their carriage returned to the Waldorf for lunch.

While the colonel waited near the reception-room, he chanced to look at
the stained-glass window over the entrance to the Garden Court. Here was
pictured the village of Waldorf, the birthplace of the original John
Jacob Astor. This pretty little hamlet is part of the Duchy of Baden,
Germany, and has been lovingly remembered in the Astor wills. Here
formerly lived the impecunious father of John Jacob Astor and his
brother. Both gained wealth, very likely, because the value of money was
first learned in the early Waldorf school of poverty. It was not an ill
north wind that imprisoned young Astor for weeks in the ice of the
Chesapeake Bay, as there on the small ship that brought him from Germany,
he listened to marvelous tales of fortunes to be made in furs in the
northwest. Shrewdly he determined first to acquire expert knowledge of
skins, and on landing he luckily found employment in a fur store in New
York at two dollars per week. This knowledge became the foundation of the
vast fortune of the Astor family. The colonel was told that the Waldorf
occupies the site of the town-house of John Jacob Astor, third of the
name, and was erected by his son, William Waldorf, ex-minister to Italy.

It was two o'clock when the Harrises entered the main dining-room for
their lunch. The colonel led the party, Alfonso conducting his sister
Lucille, the light blue ribbon at her throat of the tint of her
responsive eyes. Mrs. Harris came with Gertrude. The mother wore a gray
gown, and her daughter a pretty silk. This first entrance of the family
to the public dining-room caused a slight diversion among some of the
guests at lunch, where not a few rightly surmised who they were.

Few markets in the world rival that of New York. The coast, streams, and
valleys of New England and the Central States, send their best food by
swift steamers and express, that the exacting cosmopolitan appetite may
be satisfied.

Before the lunch was over and while Reuben Harris was making reference to
the delay of his English visitor, the waiter placed a white card by his
plate. The color in the colonel's face suddenly deepened, as he read upon
the card the name of Mr. Hugh Searles, representing Messrs. Guerney &
Barring, London.

"What's the matter, Reuben?" anxiously inquired Mrs. Harris.

"Oh, nothing," said the colonel, "only that our overdue English visitor,
Hugh Searles, has sent in his card."

"How surprising," said Lucille; "you remember, father, that I said at
breakfast, that the weather was to be fair. Probably the 'Majestic'
quickened her speed, and stole in unobserved to the docks."

"I will send him my card;" and upon it Mr. Harris wrote in pencil, "I
will soon join you in the reception room."

The black coffee disposed of, it was agreed that all should accompany
Colonel Harris, and give Mr. Searles a cordial welcome to America.

The English agent was a good sailor, and had enjoyed immensely the ocean
voyage. Mr. Searles, of late over-worked in England, was compelled on
board ship to rest both mind and body. A true Englishman, Mr. Searles,
was very practical. He comprehended fully the importance of his mission
to America, and possessed the tact of getting on in the world. If the
proposed deal with Reuben Harris was a success, he expected as commission
not less than five thousand pounds. Before the "Majestic" left the
Mersey, that his mind might be alert on arrival at New York, he had
measured with tape line the promenade deck of the steamer, and resolved
to make enough laps for a mile, both before and after each meal, a walk
of six miles per day, or a total of forty-eight miles for the voyage.

A sturdy Englishman, taking such vigorous and methodical exercise,
created some comment among the passengers, but it was excused on the
ground that Englishmen believe in much outdoor exercise. Searles came
from a good family, who lived north of London in Lincolnshire. His
father, the Hon. George Searles, had a competency, largely invested in
lands, and three per cent consols. His rule of investment was, security
unquestioned and interest not above three per cent, believing that
neither creditors nor enterprise of any kind, in the long run, could
afford to pay more. His ancestors were Germans, who crossed the German
Ocean, soon after the Romans withdrew from England.

A large area of Lincolnshire lies below the level of the sea, from which
it is protected by embankments. This fenny district gradually had been
reclaimed, and to-day the deep loam and peat-soils, not unlike the rich
farms of Holland, are celebrated for their high condition of agriculture.
What mortgages the Hon. George Searles held were secured upon
Lincolnshire estates, some of England's best lands.

Hugh Searles, his son, however, had known only London life since he
graduated from Cambridge. His office was in Chancery Lane, and his
surroundings and teachings had been of the speculative kind, hence he was
a fit agent for his firm. Already he had acquired a sunny suburban home
in Kent, and was ambitious to hold a seat in Parliament. As he walked the
steamer's deck, he looked the typical Englishman, five feet ten inches in
height, broad shoulders and full chest; his weight about two hundred
pounds, or "fifteen stones" as Searles phrased it.

His face was round and ruddy, his beard closely cut, and his hair light
and fine, indicating quality. His step was firm, and he seemed always in
deep study. When addressed by his fellow passengers however, he was
courteous, always talked to the point in his replies, and was anxious to
learn more of America, or as he expressed it, "of the Anglo-Saxon
confederation." He was very proud of his Anglo-Saxon origin, and Empire,
and believed in the final Anglo-Saxon ascendancy over the world.

On board ship were several young Englishmen, who were on their return to
various posts of duty. Three were buyers for cotton firms in Liverpool
and Manchester, and they were hastening back to Norfolk, Va., Memphis,
and New Orleans. Two of the passengers were English officers, returning
to their commands in far away Australia. Others, like Searles, were
crossing the Atlantic for the first time in search of fame and fortune.
These adventurous Englishmen thought it fine sport as the "Majestic"
sighted Fire Light Island to join the enthusiastic Americans in singing
"America." So heartily did they sing, that the Americans in turn, using
the same tune, cordially sang "God save the Queen."

At first Hugh Searles was a little disconcerted, when the whole Harris
family approached him in the Waldorf reception-room. Colonel Harris
cordially extended his hand, and said, "Mr. Searles, we are all glad to
meet you, and bid you hearty welcome to America. Please let me make you
acquainted with my wife, Mrs. Harris, my daughters, Gertrude and Lucille,
and my son, Alfonso."

"An unexpected greeting you give me, Colonel Harris," said Hugh Searles,
as he gave each person a quick hand-shake, thinking that to be an
American he must grasp hands cordially.

The family were much interested in the details of Mr. Searles's voyage,
as they expected soon to be en route for Europe. Mr. Searles said, "The
cause of the 'Majestic's' delay was a broken propeller in rough seas off
the Banks of Newfoundland. I am glad to reach New York." He had arrived
at the Hotel at ten o'clock and already had been to lunch.

Mr. Searles gladly accepted an invitation from Colonel Harris for a
drive, Mrs. Harris and Lucille to accompany them. Searles expressed a
wish to see the famous Roebling suspension bridge, so the coachman drove
first down Broadway to the post office, then past the great newspaper
buildings, and out upon the marvelous highway or bridge suspended in the
air between New York and Brooklyn. When midway, Mr. Searles begged to
step out of the carriage, and putting his arms around one of the four
enormous cables, inquired of Colonel Harris how these huge cables were
carried over the towers.

Colonel Harris explained that each cable was composed of over five
thousand steel wires, and that a shuttle carried the wire back and forth
till the requisite strength of cables was obtained. The expense of the
bridge was about $15,000,000, which the two cities paid. Its great
utility had been abundantly proved by the repeated necessity of enlarging
the approaches.

The drive to the Central Park was up Fifth Avenue, home of America's
multi-millionaires. An unending cavalcade of superb family equipages was
passing through the entrance at 59th Street. Colonel Harris explained
that "Central Park had been planted with over half a million trees,
shrubs and vines, and that which was once a waste of rock and swamp, had
by skill of enthusiastic engineers and landscape gardeners blossomed into
green lawns, shady groves, vine-covered arbors, with miles of roads and
walks, inviting expanses of water, picturesque bits of architecture, and
scenery, that rival the world's parks."

The ride and comments of Mr. Searles afforded the Harris family an
opportunity to study their guest, and on returning to the hotel, all
agreed that Hugh Searles was thoroughly equipped to protect his English
patrons in any deal that he might decide to make. It was planned that all
should dine together at eight, and Leo was to join the party by
invitation of Lucille.

Evidently the Harrises were well pleased with their English visitor, but
their pleasure was also quickened with the bright prospect of several
millions of English money for their manufacturing interest. Then after
their visit to Europe might follow the long looked-for residence in
delightful New York. Already rich Americans, famous authors and artists
gravitate as naturally to this new world metropolis, as the world's elite
to London and Paris.




CHAPTER III

A BAD SEND-OFF


It was almost eight o'clock when the dinner party assembled in the
reception-room of the Waldorf. Leo was first to arrive, and Lucille was
there to receive him. At ten minutes of eight, solicitor Hugh Searles
came; then entered Colonel Harris and his daughters, Alfonso following
with his mother. Mrs. Harris wore a black satin dress with jet trimmings
and Van Dyke lace. Lucille's dress of light blue faille silk, garnished
with pearls and guipure lace, was very becoming. Leo so told Lucille, and
she thanked him but hid behind her lips the thought that Leo never before
seemed half so manly. Mr. Searles evidently admired Leo, and he talked to
him of Italy's greatness in literature and art. He sat at Colonel
Harris's right, opposite Mrs. Harris. Leo and Lucille occupied seats at
the end of the table, and at their right and left sat Alfonso and
Gertrude.

Guests of the hotel and their friends chatted in low conversation at the
many tables of the model dining-room. Electric lights shone soft in the
ceiling, and under pretty shades at each table, which added much to the
general effect.

Long before the sweets and fruits were reached, the conversation had
drifted from one conventional topic to another, until Mrs. Harris asked
Hugh Searles what he thought of higher education for women.

"Yes, yes, Mr. Searles," said Gertrude, "please tell us all about the
English girl."

"Does she go to college, and does she ride a bicycle!" queried Lucille.

Mrs. Harris was eager to listen to the Englishman's reply for often she
had earnestly talked the matter over in her home. Mr. Searles was very
frank in his views, and surprisingly liberal for an Englishman, and well
he might be, for his own mother was a power, and his sisters were strong
mental forces in Lincolnshire. Aided by tutors and their scholarly
mother, they had pursued at home, under difficulties, about the same
course of studies, that Hugh, their brother, had followed in the
university.

Searles believed that absolute freedom should be given to women to do
anything they wished to do in the world, provided they could do it as
well as men, and that nobody had any right to assert they should not.

Colonel Harris, even for a business man, was also advanced in his ideas.
He had advocated for his daughters that they should possess healthy
bodies and minds, and be able to observe closely and reason soundly.

Lucille said that she favored an education which would best conserve and
enlarge woman's graces, her delicate feeling and thought, and her love
for the beautiful.

Then Leo and Alfonso both declared that Lucille had expressed fully their
own opinions.

Colonel Harris added, "Come, Gertrude, tell us what you think."

Her face flushed a little as she replied, for she felt all that she said,
"Father, I like what Mr. Searles has told us. I think higher education
for women should develop purity of heart, self-forgetfulness, and
enlarged and enriched minds."

"Well spoken, daughter," said Colonel Harris. "Now, dear, what have you
to say?"

Mrs. Harris had listened well, as she had been a slave in the interests
of her children, especially of her daughters. She thought that the last
twenty-five years had proved that women in physical and intellectual
capacity were able to receive and profit by a college education. Often
she had longed for the same training of mind that men of her acquaintance
enjoyed. The subject was thus discussed with profit, till the Turkish
coffee was served. Closing the discussion, Searles thought that America
led England in offering better education to woman, but that England had
given her more freedom in politics; the English woman voted for nearly
all the elective officers, except members of Parliament. He believed that
the principle of education of woman belonged to her as a part of
humanity; that it gave to her a self-centered poise, that it made her a
competent head of the home, where the family is trained as a unit of
civilization.

He felt that woman possessed the finest and highest qualities, and that
it was her mission to project and incorporate these elevating qualities
into society. He thought man had nothing to fear or lose, but much to
gain; that to multiply woman's colleges everywhere, was to furnish the
twentieth century, or "Woman's Century" as Victor Hugo called it, with
a dynamic force, that would beget more blessings for humanity than all
previous centuries.

Gertrude thanked Mr. Searles for what he had said, and the party withdrew
to the Winter Garden Café, pretty with palms, where Lucille, Leo, and
Alfonso talked of society matters, of art and music.

Gertrude read to her mother, while Hugh Searles and Colonel Harris
stepped outside into the gentlemen's café for a smoke, as both were fond
of a cigar. There the conversation naturally drifted upon the tariff
question.

Mr. Searles asserted that he favored free trade, and that he was sorry
America was not as far advanced and willing as Great Britain to recognize
the universal and fundamental principle of the brotherhood of mankind,
and the inborn right of everybody to trade as he liked in the world's
cheapest markets. He added that he sometimes felt that Americans were
too selfish, too much in love with the vulgar dollar.

Colonel Harris, wounded in his patriotism, now showed that he was a
little disturbed. He thanked Searles for his deep interest in Americans,
adding, "We are glad you have come to study Americans and America." Then
looking the Englishman full in the face he said, "Mr. Searles, you will
find human nature much the same wherever you travel. Nations usually
strive to legislate, each for its own interest. You say, 'Americans work
for the almighty dollar.' So they do, and earnestly too, but our kith and
kin across the sea worship with equal enthusiasm the golden sovereign.
Look at the monuments to protection in your own city."

"What monuments?" asked Searles.

"Monuments to protection on all your streets, built under British tariff
laws. Every stone in costly St. Paul's Church, or cathedral, was laid by
a duty of a shilling a ton on all coal coming into London. A shilling a
ton profit on coal, mined in America, would create for us fabulous
fortunes. Selfishness, Mr. Searles, and not brotherly love, drove your
country to adopt free trade."

"I do not agree with you," said Mr. Searles.

"'Tis true, and I can prove it," answered Harris. By this time several
patrons of the hotel stood about enjoying the tilt between tariff and
free trade.

"Give us the proof then," replied Searles.

"To begin with," said Harris, "I must reply to your first assertion, for
I deem your first statement a false doctrine that 'everybody has a right
to trade in the world's cheapest markets.' Nobody has a right to trade in
the world's cheapest markets, unless the necessary and just laws of his
own country, or the country he dwells in, permits it. Now as to the much
abused 'brotherhood argument' let me assert that, like England, any
nation may adopt free trade, when it can command at least four important
things: cheap labor, cheap capital, and cheap raw material. Now Mr.
Searles, what is the fourth requisite?"

Searles did not answer. Clearly, he was interested in Harris's novel line
of argument for free trade.

"Well," said Harris, "England is inhabited by a virile people, who
evidently believe in God's command to 'Be fruitful, and multiply, and
replenish the earth, and subdue it.' England, with her centuries of
rising civilization, her charm of landscape, and her command of the
world's affairs, offers at home magnificent attractions for her sons
and daughters, that make them loyal and law-abiding citizens.

"It is true that annually many thousands seek fame and fortune in new
countries, but most of her citizens prefer poverty even, and, if need be,
poverty in the gutters of her thriving cities, to a home of promise in
distant lands. Hence, a rapidly increasing and dense population obtains
in all the British Isles, and labor becomes abundant and cheap, and often
a drug in the market. The repeal of the Corn Laws first became a
necessity, then a fact, and the cheaper food made cheaper labor possible.
Lynx-eyed capital, in the financial metropolis of the world, was quick to
discover surplus labor.

"Already English inventors had made valuable inventions in machinery for
the manufacture of iron, cotton, woolen and other goods, which further
cheapened labor and the product of labor.

"England with cheap capital and cheap labor, now had two of the four
things needed to enable her to go forward to larger trade with the world.
The third requisite, cheap and abundant raw material, she also secured.
Material, not furnished from her own mines and soils, was brought in
plentiful supply at nominal freights, or as ballast, by her vessels,
whose sails are spread on every sea.

"For three centuries Great Britain has vigorously and profitably pursued
Sir Walter Raleigh's wise policy: 'Whosoever commands the sea, commands
the trade, whosoever commands the trade, commands the riches of the
world, and consequently the world itself.'

"On the ceiling of the reading-room of the Liverpool Cotton Exchange is
painted the pregnant words:--'O Lord, how manifold are thy works, in
wisdom hast thou made them all; the earth is full of thy riches.' Under
divine inspiration, therefore, English capital seeks investment
everywhere, and with cheap capital, cheap labor, and cheap raw materials,
she finds herself able to compete successfully with the world. It is
possibly pardonable then that the British manufacturer and politician
should seek earnestly the fourth requisite, viz., a large market abroad.
Hence the necessity of free trade.

"To advocate publicly that other nations should adopt free trade, that
England might have an increased number of buyers, and consequently
greater profit on her products, perhaps would not be judicious; so the
principle of free trade for the world at large must be sugar-coated, to
be acceptable. Therefore your philanthropic and alert Richard Cobden, and
John Bright, and your skilled writers, both talked and wrote much about
the 'brotherhood of mankind,' hoping that the markets of the world might
willingly open wide their doors to British traders. Of course, advocates
of free trade reason that the larger the number of buyers the larger the
prices.

"Mr. Searles, whenever America can command, as Great Britain does
to-day, cheap capital, cheap labor, and cheap raw materials, she too
may vociferously advocate free trade, and that other nations shall open
wide their markets for the sale of American products.

"Don't you see, Mr. Searles, that protection and free trade are equally
selfish and not philanthropic principles?"

"Mr. Harris you are right," shouted several of the by-standers.

But Hugh Searles did not reply. Possibly because it was late or, it may
be, he did not wish to further antagonize Colonel Harris with whom he
hoped in the morning to drive a good bargain, and it may be that he hoped
some time in America to operate mills himself and make money under a
protective tariff.

Both Searles and Harris retired for the night with an agreement to meet
at nine o'clock in the morning and talk over business. Searles rose with
the sun, and after eggs, bacon, and tea, he walked to the Battery and
back, before nine, the appointed hour for his first business conference
with Reuben Harris.

A good sleep had refreshed Colonel Harris and at breakfast he appeared in
a joking mood. While he smoked, he glanced at the _Tribune_ and again
examined Searles's letter of introduction from Messrs. Guerney & Barring.
At nine o'clock promptly, Mr. Searles came and Colonel Harris exhibited
to him a brief statement of the business of the Harrisville Iron & Steel
Co., extending over the last ten years, and showing the company's annual
profits.

"A very good business your company did, and you made large profits,
Colonel Harris," said Searles. "And am I to understand that you have made
in your statement a proper allowance for depreciation of values in
buildings and machinery, also for all losses and cost of insurance, and
that after these deductions are made the company's net profits annually
amounted to an average of over one hundred thousand pounds, or a half
million dollars?"

"Yes," replied the colonel.

And Mr. Searles remarked, "Colonel Harris, if your arguments last evening
did not fully convert me to the decided advantage which Americans gain by
protection, this statement of the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co. does. A
year ago, some Americans in London called our attention to your
profitable plant, hence our first letter of inquiries. Your replies
confirmed the report and so we cabled for this initial meeting between
us.

"Messrs. Guerney & Barring have been most successful in financiering some
of the largest business interests in the world, and thus they have
achieved a splendid reputation. It was their wish that I should secure
for them your most favorable terms with an option of purchase of your
plant, the same to hold good for two months, or for a sufficient length
of time to allow them to organize a syndicate, and float necessary
debentures to buy the stock, or a controlling interest in your company,
and so continue the business."

"Mr. Searles, we Americans are not anxious to sell, especially to
foreigners, our best paying concerns. We ought to keep them under our own
control. However, of late, I have been inclined to indulge my family in a
little foreign travel, and myself in more leisure for books, and possibly
for politics, believing that not enough of our good citizens enter
Congress. I might, on certain conditions, name a price for all the stock
of the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co."

"Please state the price and the conditions."

"Well, let me think a moment. The capital stock of the company is not now
as large as it should be.

Total Capital Stock             $2,000,000
Par value of shares                    100
Present Value per Share,               300

"The entire property and good-will of the Company is worth at least
$6,000,000, and my "fixed price," as the English say, is $5,000,000."

Mr. Searles looked puzzled, for he had hoped to get the stock for less
money. He hesitated, as if in deep study, but not long, for he believed
that, if the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co. for ten successive years could
pay $500,000 or an average annual dividend of 25% on its stock of
$2,000,000, the plant re-organized could easily be marketed at a neat
advance, say for £1,400,000 or $7,000,000, in London, where even sound
3% investments are eagerly sought; so Mr. Searles inquired again:
"Colonel Harris, you omitted to state your conditions." Harris answered,
"I must have cash enough to guarantee the sale, and short time payments
for the balance."

"Well, Colonel Harris, how would the following terms please you?

One-eighth cash                 $625,000
One-eighth 30 days               625,000
One-fourth 60 days             1,250,000
One-fourth 90 days             1,250,000
One-fourth, Preferred Shares,
    6% dividends guaranteed    1,250,000
                               _________
Total price named              5,000,000

"Colonel Harris, before you answer, please let me outline our London
plan. Suppose I should take for Messrs. Guerney & Barring a contract, or
option of purchase on the property with payments as named, the purchase
to be conditioned upon a verification of the correctness of your
statements. Our experts can examine and report soon on your accounts for
ten years back, and on buildings, machinery, stock on hand, land, etc."

"Mr. Searles, please explain further your 'London plan' of
reorganization."

"Colonel Harris, we would modify the old firm name, so as to read--'The
Harrisville Iron & Steel Co., Limited, of London, England,' and
capitalize it at £1,400,000, or $7,000,000.

Par value of shares     £20 or $100
Number of shares             70,000

"When our experts shall have verified your statements at Harrisville,
then the option of purchase is to be signed by us and forwarded to
London, where it will be signed by Messrs. Guerney & Barring, the first
payment made, and the contract underwritten or guaranteed by the
Guardian, Executor & Trust Association, Limited, of London, whose capital
is $5,000,000. The association will also underwrite the bonds and
preference shares. This will practically complete the purchase."

"But what about the last one-fourth payment in preferred shares of
$1,250,000?"

"Pardon me, Colonel Harris, that is just what I desire to explain
further. The new company will issue debentures or bonds, running 30
years, at 4%, for £800,000 or $4,000,000; preference shares £400,000 or
$2,000,000; with dividends 6% guaranteed, and a preference in
distribution of property, if company is dissolved. Ordinary shares
£1,200,000 or $6,000,000. And our London prospects will show that the
ordinary shares can earn at least 5%. For the last one-fourth we wish you
to take 12,500 preferred shares, or $1,250,000.

"London holders, of course, will elect all the officers, a managing board
of directors, with general office in London. For a time they will expect
you to advise in the management of the business at Harrisville."

After some further explanations, Harris agreed to sign a contract or
option of purchase, drawn as specified, if after investigation, he should
become satisfied with the responsibility of the London parties. On
Tuesday morning, contracts in duplicates were presented for Colonel
Harris's inspection. After twice carefully reading the contract, he gave
his approval and wrote Mr. Searles a letter of introduction to Mr. B.C.
Wilson, his manager at Harrisville, requesting the latter to permit Mr.
Searles and his experts to examine all property and accounts of the
Harrisville Iron & Steel Co. for ten years back.

It was also arranged that on Wednesday, at 12 o'clock noon, Mr. Searles
should see the Harrises off to Europe, then Mr. Searles and his experts
were to go to Harrisville in Colonel Harris's private car. Later Mr.
Searles and Colonel Harris were to meet in London, and then, if
everything was mutually satisfactory, all parties were to affix their
signatures to the agreement, and the cash payment was to be made at the
London office of Guerney & Barring.

Wednesday, Colonel Harris rose early as had been his habit from
childhood. He was exacting in his family, and also as a manager of labor.
Every morning at six o'clock all the family had to be at the breakfast
table. Colonel Harris always asked the blessing. Its merit was its
brevity: sometimes he only said--"Dear Lord, make us grateful and good
to-day. Amen." Thirty minutes later, summer and winter, his horses and
carriage stood at his door, and punctually at fifteen minutes of seven
o'clock he would reach his great mills. His first duty was to walk
through his works, as his skilled laborers with dinner pails entered the
broad gates and began the day's work. Devotion like this usually brings
success.

After breakfast, Mrs. Harris and her daughters walked down Fifth Avenue
to make a few purchases. Alfonso and Leo hurried off to get their baggage
to the "Majestic," while Jean busied himself in seeing that a transfer
was made to the steamer of all the trunks, valises, etc., left at the
depot and hotel.

At ten o'clock Jean called at the dock to learn if the half-dozen steamer
chairs and as many warm blankets had arrived, and he found everything in
readiness. It was 10:30 o'clock when the Waldorf bill was paid, and the
good-bye given. The young people were jubilant, as the long hoped-for
pleasure trip to Europe was about to be realized.

The carriages for the steamer could not go fast enough to satisfy the
old, or the young people. Several schoolmates, artists, business and
society friends met them on the dock. Many fashionable people had already
arrived to say "_Bon Voyage_" to the Harrises and to Leo. Hundreds of
others had come to see their own friends off. It was all excitement among
the passengers, and carriages kept coming and going.

Not so with the English officers and sailors of the "Majestic." They were
calm and ready for the homeward passage.

The last mail bag had been put aboard, and the receipts to the government
hurriedly signed. Mr. Searles had said good-bye, and last of all to
Colonel Harris. As the colonel went up the gangway, the bell rang and the
cries "All aboard" were given. For once, Colonel Harris felt a sense of
great relief to thus cut loose from his business, and take his first long
vacation, in twenty-five years from hard work.

"Now, I shall have a good time, and a much needed rest," he said. But
just as he stepped into the steamer's dining-saloon, Mr. Searles, who had
hastily followed, touched him on the shoulder and said. "Here, Colonel
Harris, is a telegram for you."

Harris quickly tore it open. It was from Wilson, his manager, and it read
as follows:--

  Harrisville, June 9, 18--.
  _Colonel Reuben Harris,
  Steamer Majestic, New York_.

  Our four thousand men struck this morning for higher wages. What shall
  we do?

  B.C. Wilson.

Harris was almost paralyzed. His wife and daughters ran to him. The
steamer's big whistle was sounding. All was now confusion. There was only
a moment to decide, but Harris proved equal to the situation. He stepped
to the purser, surrendered his passage ticket, kissed his wife and two
daughters, saying to his son, "Alfonso, take charge of the party as I go
back to Harrisville."

Gertrude, insisting, accompanied her father, and remained ashore. On the
dock stood Colonel Harris, Gertrude, and Mr. Searles, all three waving
their white handkerchiefs to Mrs. Harris, Lucille, Alfonso, and Leo. What
a bad send-off!

  The best laid schemes o' mice an' men,
    Gang aft a-gley,
  And leave us nought but grief and pain,
    For promised joy.

The Harrises on the steamer, and the Harrises on the pier had heavy
hearts, especially Colonel Harris and Gertrude so suddenly disappointed.
It was soon agreed that the three should start that evening for
Harrisville.




CHAPTER IV

ABOARD THE S.S. MAJESTIC


Mrs. Harris was naturally a brave woman, but the telegram, and the sudden
separation perhaps forever from her husband and Gertrude, unnerved her.
She sank back into an easy chair on the steamer, murmuring, "Why this
terrible disappointment? Why did I not turn back with my husband? This is
worse than death. Mr. Harris is in great trouble. Why did I not at once
sacrifice all and share his misfortunes? How noble in Gertrude to go
ashore with her father. It is just like the child, for she is never happy
except when she forgets self, and does for others."

Mrs. Harris sobbed as if her loved ones had been left in the tomb.
Lucille tenderly held her mother's hand, and spoke comforting words:
"Cheer up, mother, all will yet be well. Father can now take Mr. Searles
to Harrisville."

"To see what, child--men misled and on a strike and the mills all closed
down! It means much trouble, and perhaps disaster for the Harrises."

"Oh, no, mother, all will soon be well. Let us go on the deck."

Alfonso led his mother, and Leo took Lucille up among the passengers.

They were just in time to see the white cloud of fluttering handkerchiefs
on the pier. Leo said that he could distinguish with his field-glass
Colonel Harris and Gertrude, and tears again came into Mrs. Harris's
eyes.

European steamers always leave on time, waiting for neither prince nor
peasant. A carriage with foaming horses drove in upon the pier as the tug
pulled the steamer out upon the Hudson. Its single occupant was an
English government agent bearing a special message from the British
embassador at Washington to Downing Street, London.

"Now what's to be done?" the British agent sharply inquired.

"Two pounds, sir, and we will put you and your luggage aboard," shouted
an English sailor.

"Agreed," said the agent, and to the surprise of everybody on the pier,
two robust sailors pulled as for their lives, and each won a sovereign,
as they put the belated agent on board the "Majestic."

This race for a passage caught the eye of Mrs. Harris. At first she
thought that the little boat might contain her husband, but as the
English agent came up the ship's ladder, she grasped Alfonso's arm, and
said, "Here, my son, take my hand and help me quickly to the boat; I will
go back to Mr. Harris."

"No! No!" said Alfonso, "Look, mother, the little boat is already
returning to the dock." Later the purser brought to Mrs. Harris an
envelope containing the steamer tickets and a purse of gold, which the
colonel thoughtfully had sent by the English agent.

Mrs. Harris re-examined the envelope, and found the colonel's personal
card which contained on the back a few words, hastily scribbled: "Cheer
up everybody; glad four of our party are on board. Enjoy yourselves.
Gertrude sends love. Later we will join you in London perhaps. God bless
you all. R.H."

Sunshine soon came back to Mrs. Harris's face, and she began to notice
the people about her, and to realize that she was actually on shipboard.
Foreign travel had been the dream of her life; and she felt comforted to
have Alfonso and Lucille beside her.

"Mrs. Harris," said Leo, "see the stately blocks that outline Broadway,
the Western Union Telegraph Building, the Equitable Building, the granite
offices of the Standard Oil Company, the Post Office, and the imposing
Produce Exchange with its projecting galley-prows. Above its long series
of beautiful arches of terra cotta rise a tall campanile and liberty pole
from which floats the stars and stripes."

Leo's eyes kindled in brilliancy, and his voice quickened with
patriotism, as he made reference to his adopted flag. "Lucille, behold
our glorious flag that floats over America's greatest financial and
commercial city. I love the stars and stripes quite as much as Italy's
flag.

"Annually over thirty thousand vessels arrive and depart from this
harbor. New York is America's great gateway for immigrants. In a single
year nearly a half million land at Castle Garden. Sections of New York
are known as Germany, Italy, China, Africa, and Judea. The Hebrews alone
in the city number upwards of one hundred thousand, and have nearly fifty
synagogues and as many millionaires. The trees, lawns, and promenades
along the sea-wall, form the Battery Park. The settees are crowded with
people enjoying the magnificent marine views before them."

Alfonso pointed to the Suspension or Brooklyn Bridge beneath which
vessels were sailing on the East River. Its enormous cables looked like
small ropes sustaining a vast traffic of cars, vehicles, and pedestrians.

To the right of the steamer's track on Bedloe's Island stands Bartholdi's
"Liberty, Enlightening the World," the largest bronze statue on the
globe. From a small guide book of New York, Lucille read aloud that the
Bartholdi statue and its pedestal cost one million dollars; that the
statue was presented by the French people to the people of the United
States. The head of Liberty is higher than the tall steeple of Trinity
Church, which is 300 feet high, or twice that of the Colossus of Rhodes,
one of the seven ancient wonders.

"Look," said Lucille, "at the uplifted right hand holding an electric
torch. How magnificently the statue stands facing the Narrows, the
entrance from Europe, and how cordial the welcome to America which
Liberty extends."

"Yes," said Leo, "if you wish to see Bartholdi's noble mother, observe
the face of the statue. Bartholdi owed much to his mother's constant
encouragement."

"How true it is," said Mrs. Harris, "that most great men have had
splendid mothers."

Many on the deck thought of loved ones at home, of their country, and
wondered if they would return again to America. This was true of many
aboard who were now starting on their first ocean voyage, and their
thoughts no doubt were akin to those that filled the minds of Columbus
and his crew when they left Palos.

Craft of every kind kept clear of the giant "Majestic" as she plowed down
the Narrows. Historic but worthless old forts are on either side, and far
down into the lower bay the pilot guides the wonderful steamer. Sandy
Hook lighthouse, the low shores, and purple mountains of New Jersey are
left behind, as the "Majestic" is set on her course at full speed.

The gong for the one o'clock lunch was sounded, and Alfonso, glad of the
change, as his mother seemed unhappy, led the way below. Colonel Harris,
when he bought the tickets, had arranged that his family should sit at
the captain's table. As Alfonso entered the saloon, the steward conducted
him and his friends to their seats. The captain's seat was unoccupied as
he was busy on deck. The grand dining-room of the "Majestic" is amidships
on the main deck. At the three long tables and sixteen short side tables,
three hundred persons can be accommodated.

The sea was smooth, so every chair was taken. The scene was an animating
one and interesting to study. A single voyage will not suffice to reveal
the heart histories and ambitions of three hundred cosmopolitan
passengers. Everybody was talking at the same time; all had much to say
about the experiences in reaching and boarding the steamer. Everybody was
looking at everybody, and each wondered who the others might be.

So many new faces which are to be studies for the voyage, arrested the
attention of Mrs. Harris. Her appetite was not good, so she ate little,
but closely watched the exhilarating scenes about her. Many wives had
their husbands by their sides, and this pained her, but she resolved to
keep brave and to make the most of her opportunities. Lucille and the
young men were so interested in the pretty faces all about them, that
they had little time for an English luncheon, and most of their eating
was a make-believe.

Amidship the movement of the boat is reduced to a minimum, and in
fair weather it is difficult to realize that you are out upon the
ocean. Each passenger at the table is furnished with a revolving chair.
Choice flowers, the gifts of loving friends left behind, were on every
table, and their fragrance converted the dining-saloon into a large
conservatory. The Corinthian columns were fluted and embossed, the walls
and ceiling were in tints of ivory and gold; the artistic panels abounded
in groups of Tritons and nymphs; the ports were fitted with stained glass
shutters, emblazoned with the arms of cities and states in Europe and
America. Behind the glass were electric lights, so that the designs were
visible both night and day.

Surmounting this richly appointed saloon was a dome of artistic creation,
its stained glass of soft tints, which sparkled in the warm sunlight and
shed a kaleidoscope of color and design over the merry company of
passengers. Mirrors and the gentle rolling of the steamer multiplied
and enlarged the gorgeous colorings and perplexing designs.

In the midst of this new life aboard ship, so novel and so beautiful,
Mrs. Harris's heart would have been happy had her over-worked husband and
Gertrude sat beside her at the table. Very little of this life is enjoyed
without the unwelcomed flies that spoil the precious ointment.

After the lunch Alfonso and his friends had time to examine a little
further the great steamer that was to float them to the Old World. When
his party hurriedly entered the dining-saloon, the grand staircase was
entirely overlooked. How wide and roomy it was, and how beautifully
carved and finished, especially the balustrade and newel posts, the whole
being built of selected white oak, which mellows with age, and will
assume a richer hue like the wainscoting in the famous old English abbeys
and manor houses.

Again the Harris party was on deck, final words hastily written were in
the steamer's mail bag, and a sailor stood ready to pass it over the
ship's side to the pilot's little boat, waiting for orders to cut loose
from the "Majestic."

The engines slacked their speed, the pilot bade the officers good-bye,
and accompanied the mail bag to his trusted schooner. No. 66 was painted
in black full length on the pilot's big white sail. All the passenger
steamers which enter or leave New York must take these brave and alert
pilots as guides in and out the ever-changing harbor channels.

The gong in the engine-rooms again signaled "full speed" and the live,
escaping steam was turned through the triple-expansion engines, and
the "Majestic" gathered her full strength for a powerful effort, a
record-breaking passage to Queenstown.

The life on board the transatlantic ferry is decidedly English, and Mrs.
Harris closely studied the courtesies and requirements. She soon came to
like the ship's discipline and matter-of-fact customs. The young people,
some newly married, and some new acquaintances like Leo and Lucille, had
moved their steamer chairs on the deck, that they might watch the return
of the pilot's boat.

Loving letters were read, the leaves of latest magazines were cut, and
many words were exchanged before the big "66" disappeared entirely with
the sun that set in gold and purple over the low New England shores.

Quite apart from the young people sat Mrs. Harris and Alfonso. They
talked earnestly about the ill-timed strike of the millmen at home. "Why
did the men strike at the very time when father wanted his mills to glow
with activity?" queried Mrs. Harris.

"Oh, mother," said Alfonso, "that is part of labor's stock in trade. Some
labor organizations argue that the 'end justifies the means.' Our men
were probably kept advised of father's plans, and strikes often are timed
so as to put capital at the greatest disadvantage, and force, if
possible, a speedy surrender to labor's demands. 'Like begets like,'
mother, so the college professor told us when he lectured on Darwin. It
was Darwin, I think, who emphasized this fundamental principle in nature.

"See, mother, how this labor agitation works. Labor organizations
multiply and become aggressive, and so capital organizes in self-defense.
One day our professor told the class that he much preferred citizenship
in a government controlled by intelligent capital, to the insecurity and
uncertainty of ignorant labor in power. The professor inclined to think
that the British form of government rested on a more lasting basis than
that of republics.

"Usually the more of values a person possesses, the more anxious he is
for stable government. Labor has little capital, and so often becomes
venturesome, and is willing to stake all on the throw of a die. But labor
in the presence of open hungry mouths can ill afford to take such
chances. Labor with its little or no surplus should act reasonably, and
on the side of conservatism, or wives and little ones suffer."

Mrs. Harris listened to her son's comments on capital and labor, but the
independence of her race asserted itself and she said with emphasis,
"Alfonso, I hope Mr. Harris will insist on his rights at Harrisville."

"Very likely he will, mother, as he is that kind of a man, and the New
England independence that is born in him is sure to assert itself."

For a few moments neither mother nor son spoke. Suddenly both were
awakened from their reveries by the call for dinner. The waters were
still smooth, and the ocean breezes had sharpened appetites, so the grand
staircase was crowded with a happy throng, most of whom were eager for
their first dinner aboard ship. The Harrises were delighted to find
Captain Morgan already at the table.

Long ago Captain Morgan had learned that wealth is power. His own ship
had cost a million or more, and England's millions enabled his government
to control the globe. Not only was he keenly alive to the fact that
capital and brains guided most human events, but naturally he possessed
the instincts of a gentleman, and besides he was a true Briton. His
ancestors for generations had followed the sea for a livelihood and fame.
Some had served conspicuously in the navy, and others like himself had
spent long lives in the commercial marine.

In Lucille's eyes Captain Morgan was an ideal hero of the sea. He was
over six feet in height, and robust of form, weighing not less than 250
pounds. His face was round and bronzed by the exposure of over three
hundred ocean passages. His closely cropped beard and hair were iron
gray, and his mild blue eyes and shapely hands told of inbred qualities.
That he was possessed of rare traits of character, it was easy to
discover. Loyalty to the great trusts confided to him, was noticeable in
his every movement. "Safety of ship, passengers, and cargo," were words
often repeated, whether the skies above him were blue or black.

Captain Morgan addressing Mrs. Harris said, "We shall miss very much your
husband's presence aboard ship. Nowadays managers of great enterprises
ashore, involving the use of large amounts of capital, encounter quite as
many stormy seas as we of the Atlantic."

"Yes," replied Mrs. Harris, "and the causes of financial disturbances are
fully as difficult to divine or control."

"It was fortunate, however, Mrs. Harris," said the captain, "that
word reached the steamer in time to intercept the Colonel so that he
could return at once and assume command of his business. Aboard our
ship, you must all dismiss every anxiety as to matters at home or on the
"Majestic." With your permission, Colonel Harris's family shall be mine
for the passage. Please command my services at all times."

"Thank you," said Alfonso, and the captain's cordial words, like
sunshine, dispelled the clouds.

"Captain," inquired Leo, "do you think we shall have a pleasant voyage?"

"Yes, I hope so, for the sake of those aboard who are making this their
first voyage, otherwise we may not have the pleasure of much of their
company."

"Captain Morgan, then you really promise a smooth passage?" said Lucille.

"Oh no, Miss Harris, we never promise in advance good weather on the
ocean. Smooth water for us old sailors is irksome indeed, yet I always
consider it very fortunate for our passengers, if Old Probabilities grant
us a day or two of fair skies as we leave and enter port. With gentle
breezes the passengers gradually get possession of their 'sea legs' as
sailors term it, and later brisk breezes are welcomed."

"Captain, have you a panacea for seasickness?" inquired Mrs. Harris.

"Oh, yes," he replied, "take as vigorous exercise on the ship as is taken
ashore, eat wisely, observe economy of nerve-force, and be resolved to
keep on good terms with Old Neptune. Don't fight the steamer's movements
or eccentricities, but yield gracefully to all the boat's motions. In a
word, forget entirely that you are aboard ship, and the victory is
yours."

"This is Wednesday, Captain, and do you really think you will land us in
the Mersey by Monday evening?" Lucille enquired earnestly.

"Monday or Tuesday if all goes well," the captain answered. Captain
Morgan drank his coffee, excused himself, and returned to his duty on the
bridge.

"What a gallant old sea-dog the captain is," said Mrs. Harris. "We shall
feel perfectly safe in his keeping. How cheery he is away from home."

"How do you know he has a home, mother?"

"Perhaps not, my dear, for he seems really married to his ship."

The Harrises and Leo joined the passengers who had now left the dining
saloon. The light winds had freshened and the skies were overcast and
gave promise of showers, if not of a storm. After walking a few times
around the promenade deck, most of the passengers went below, some to the
library, some to the smoking room, and some to their staterooms, perhaps
thinking discretion the better part of valor. The steamer's chairs were
taken from the deck and only a few persons remained outside. Some of them
were clad in warm ulsters. They walked the usual half-hour. Most of these
promenaders were men of business who were required to make frequent ocean
passages. They were as familiar with moistened decks, cloudy skies, and
heavy seas as the land-lubbers are with stone pavements and hotel
corridors.




CHAPTER V

DISCOMFITURES AT SEA


The green and red lights on the starboard and port sides and the white
light on the foremast now burned brightly. The boatswain's shrill whistle
furled the sails snugly to every spar, leaving the sailors little time or
spirit for their usual song, as barometer-like they too sensed the
approaching storm. The ship's watch forward was increased as the wind
grew strong, and the weather ahead had become thick and hazy.

The captain quickly left the table when the steward placed in his hand
a bit of writing from the first officer, which read, "The barometer is
falling rapidly." Captain Morgan and an officer paced the bridge with
eyes alert. Heavy clouds of smoke from the triple stacks revealed that
a hundred glowing furnaces were being fed with fuel, assistant engineers
were busily inspecting, and oilers were active in lubricating the
ponderous engines that every emergency might be promptly met.

Ports were closed and every precaution taken. The anxiety of officers and
sailors and the increased agitation of the sea was soon noticed by the
ship's gay company. Before ten o'clock most of the passengers were glad
of the good-night excuse for retiring. The smoking room, however, was
crowded with devotees to the weed. Old-timers were busy with cards, or
forming pools on the first day's run from Sandy Hook, or speculating as
to the time of arrival at Queenstown.

The atmosphere of the room was as thick as the weather outside. It is
no wonder that a club man of New York, making his first trip to Europe,
inquired of his Philadelphia friend, "Why do Americans smoke so
continually?"

He answered, "It is easier to tell why the English drink tea and why
Americans drink coffee. But to answer your question, I suppose the
mixture of races quickens the flow of blood and produces the intense
activities we witness. Besides, the enlarged opportunities offered in
a new and growing country present attractive prizes in the commercial,
political, social, and religious world. To attain these the Anglo-Saxon
blood rushes through arteries and veins like the heated blood in a
thoroughbred horse on the last quarter. After these homestretch efforts
Americans feel the need often of stimulants, or of a soporific, and this
they try to find in a cigar."

"Your views are wrong, I think. One would naturally infer that the use of
tobacco shortens life. Let me relate to you an incident.

"I was once in Sandusky, Ohio, and spent an evening at a lecture given by
Trask, the great anti-tobacconist. In his discourse he had reached the
climax of his argument, proving as he thought that tobacco shortened
life, when a well dressed man in the audience rose and said, 'Mr. Trask,
will you pardon me if I say a few words?'

"'Oh, yes' said the lecturer, 'give us the facts only.'

"'Well, Mr. Trask, there is living to-day in Castalia, southwest of here,
a man nearly a hundred years old and he has been a constant user of
tobacco since early childhood.'

"For a moment Mr. Trask stood nonplussed. To gain time for thought
he fell back upon the Socratic method, and began asking questions.
'Stranger, won't you stand up again so that the audience can see you?
Thank you! Evidently you are an intelligent citizen and reliable witness.
Did you say you knew the man?'

"'O yes, I have known him for over fifty years.'

"'Did you ever know of his favoring schools or churches by gifts or
otherwise?'

"'No,' said the stranger.

"'There,' said Trask to the audience, 'this man's testimony only
strengthens what I have been attempting to prove here this evening,
that tobacco shortens life. This Castalia centenarian is dead to all the
demands of society and humanity, and his corpse should have been buried
half a century ago.' So the laugh was on the voluntary witness."

"Hold on, my friend, your Castalia centenarian proves just what I said at
the outset, that the use of tobacco prolongs life, but I am half inclined
myself to feel that the less tobacco active Americans use, the better."
Then throwing his cigar away, he said good-night and left the smoking
room.

Others stacked their cards, smoked cigarettes, and then sought their
staterooms, and finally the ship's bell rang out the last patron and
announced the midnight hour; the steward was left alone. He had been
unusually busy all the evening furnishing ale, porter, and beer, a few
only taking wine. The steward was glad to complete his report of sales
for the first day out, and turn off the lights and seek his berth for
the night.

The "Majestic" shot past Cape Cod and was plowing her way towards the
banks of Newfoundland. The strong winds were westerly and fast increasing
to a moderate gale. The north star was hidden and now failed to confirm
the accuracy of the ship's compasses.

The first and fourth officers were pacing the bridge. The latter was
glad that the engines were working at full speed, as every stroke of
the pistons carried him nearer his pretty cottage in the suburbs of
Liverpool. Captain Morgan had dropped asleep on the lounge in his cozy
room just back of the wheel. Most of the passengers and crew off duty
slept soundly, though some were dreaming of wife and children in far away
homes, and others of palaces, parks, and castles in foreign countries.

It was difficult for Mrs. Harris to get much rest as the waves dashing
against the ship often awakened her, and her thoughts would race with the
Cincinnati Express which was swiftly bearing her husband and Gertrude
back to Harrisville and perhaps to trouble and poverty. While Mrs. Harris
knew that her husband was wealthy, she was constantly troubled with fears
lest she and her family should sometime come to want. Her own father had
acquired a fortune in Ireland, but changes in the British tariff laws had
rendered him penniless, and poverty had driven her mother with seven
other children to America.

A rich uncle in Boston enabled her to get a fair education, and the early
years of her married life had been full of earnest effort, of economy and
heroic struggle, that her husband and family might gain a footing in the
world. The comforts of her early childhood in Ireland had given her a
keen relish for luxury. The pain inflicted by poverty that followed was
severely felt, and now, the pleasures of wealth again were all the more
enjoyed.

Mrs. Harris was not a church member, but woman-like she found her lips
saying, "God bless the colonel and my precious children." Then putting
her hand over upon Lucille, and satisfied that she was there by her side
and asleep, she too became drowsy and finally unconscious. Alfonso and
Leo occupied the adjoining stateroom, but both were in dreamland;
Alfonso in the art galleries of Holland and Leo in sunny Italy.

Before morning the storm center was moving rapidly down the St. Lawrence
Valley, and off the east coast of Maine. Long lines of white-capped waves
were dashing after each other like swift platoons in a cavalry charge.
The "Majestic," conscious of an enemy on her flank, sought earnestly to
outstrip the winds of Æolus. When Captain Morgan reached the bridge, the
sea and sky were most threatening. The first officer said, "Captain,
I have never seen the mercury go down so rapidly. We are in for a nasty
time of it, I fear."

Early the sailors were scrubbing the ship while the spray helped to wash
the decks, and they tightened the fastenings of the life-boats. The
firemen too were busy dropping cinders astern. Fires in the cook's
galley were lighted, and the steerage passengers were aroused for
breakfast, but few responded.

Mrs. Harris often tried to dress, but every time she fell back into her
berth, saying, "Stewardess, I shall surely die. Isn't the ship going
down?"

"No, no, madam," the stewardess replied, "I will return with beef tea,
and you will soon feel better."

Lucille was helped to put on a dark wrapper; and after repeated efforts
at a hasty toilet, she took the stewardess's arm and reached an easy
chair in the library. Alfonso and Leo, who were both members of a yacht
club in New York, came to the library from a short walk on the deck. It
required much urging with Lucille before she would attempt an entrance
into the dining-room. Several men and a few ladies were present.

"Good morning, Miss Harris, how brave you are," were words spoken so
encouragingly by Captain Morgan that Lucille's face brightened and she
responded as best she could.

"Thank you, captain, I believe I should much prefer to face a storm of
bullets on the land than a storm at sea; you courageous sailors really
deserve all the gold medals."

Leo, who was fond of the ocean, said to Alfonso, "Why can't we all be
sailors? What say you to this? Let us test who of our party shall lose
the fewest meals from New York to Queenstown. You and your mother or
Lucille and I?"

"Agreed," responded Alfonso, thinking it would help to keep the ladies in
good spirits.

"But what shall count for a meal?" inquired Alfonso.

"Not less than ten minutes at the table, and at dinner, soup at least."
Lucille thought Leo's idea a capital one. It was agreed that the contest
should commence with the next lunch, and that Alfonso and Leo should act
as captains for the two sides.

By this time Lucille had eaten a little toast and had sipped part of her
chocolate. A tenderloin steak and sweet omelet with French fried potatoes
were being served, when suddenly the color left her face. Another lurch
of the steamer sent a glass of ice water up her loose sleeve, and,
utterly discomfited, she begged to be excused and rushed from the table.

"Oh dear, mother, how terribly I feel; let me lie down. Oh dear! I wish
I were home with father and Gertrude."

"If the colonel were only here to help," murmured Mrs. Harris.
"Stewardess, where are you? Why don't you hurry when I ring? Go for the
doctor at once." It was now blowing a gale and the steamer was rolling
badly.

It was a long half-hour before the doctor entered the stateroom of Mrs.
Harris. Dr. Argyle was perfect in physical development and a model of
gentlemanly qualities. His education had been received in London and
Vienna, and he had joined the service of the "Majestic" that he might
enlarge his experiences as practitioner and man of the world. He had
correctly divined that here he was sure to touch intimately the restless
and wandering aristocracy of the globe.

While Dr. Argyle was ostensibly the ship's doctor, he was keenly alert
for an opportunity that would help him on to fame and fortune. Of the
two he preferred the latter, as he believed that humanity is just as
lazy as it dares to be. Therefore stateroom No. ---- was entered both
professionally and inquisitively. The doctor was half glad that the
Harrises were ill, as he had seen the family at Captain Morgan's table
and desired to meet them. Captain Morgan had incidentally mentioned to
the doctor the great wealth of the Harris family, and this also had
whetted his curiosity. Before him lay mother and daughter, helpless, both
in utter misery and the picture of despair.

"Beg pardon, ladies," said the doctor as he entered, "you sent for me
I believe?"

"Yes, yes," replied Mrs. Harris, "we thought you had forgotten us, as the
half-hour's delay seemed a full week. My daughter, Lucille, and I are
suffering terribly. How awful the storm! Last night, doctor, I thought
I should die before morning, and now I greatly fear that the ship will
go down."

"Do not fear, ladies," the doctor replied, "the wind is only brisk; most
people suffer a little on the ocean, especially on the first voyage."

"What is the cause of this terrible seasickness, doctor, and what can you
do for us?"

"Frankly, Mrs. Harris, no two physicians agree as to the cause. Usually
people suffer most from seasickness who come aboard weary from over-work
or nervous exhaustion. Most people waste vital forces by too much talking
or by over-exertion. Americans, especially, overcheck their deposits of
vitality, and as bankrupts they struggle to transact daily duties. Wise
management of nerve forces would enable them to accomplish more and enjoy
life better."

"I am a bankrupt then," said Mrs. Harris, "but how about my daughter
Lucille?"

"Your child, I fear, is the daughter of bankrupts and doubtless inherits
their qualities."

"But, doctor, can't you do something now for us?"

"Oh yes, madam, but first let me feel your pulse, please."

"Ninety-eight," he said to himself, but he added to Mrs. Harris, "you
need the very rest this voyage affords and you must not worry the least
about the storm or affairs at home. Our vessel is built of steel, and
Captain Morgan always outrides the storms. Ladies, I want you to take
this preparation of my own. It is a special remedy for seasickness, the
result of the study and experience of the medical force of the White Star
Line."

The faces of mother and daughter brightened. They had faith. This was
noticed by Dr. Argyle. Faith was the restorative principle upon which the
young doctor depended, and without it his medicine was worthless. The
White Star panacea prescribed was harmless, as his powders merely
inclined the patient to sleep and recovery followed, so faith or nature
worked the cure. Soon after the door closed behind the doctor, Lucille
was asleep, and Mrs. Harris passed into dreamland.

The winds veered into the southwest, and, reinforced, were controlled by
a violent hurricane that had rushed up the Atlantic coast from the West
Indies. The novice aboard was elated, for he thought that the fiercer the
wind blew behind the vessel, the faster the steamer would be driven
forward. How little some of us really know! The cyclone at sea is a
rotary storm, or hurricane, of extended circuit. Black clouds drive down
upon the sea and ship with a tiger's fierceness as if to crush all life
in their pathway.

Officers and crew, in waterproof garments, become as restless as bunched
cattle in a prairie blizzard. All eyes now roam from prow to stern, from
deck to top mast. The lightning's blue flame plays with the steel masts,
and overhead thunders drown the noise of engines and propellers. Thick
black smoke and red-hot cinders shoot forth from the three black-throated
smoke-stacks.

The huge steamer, no longer moving with the ease of the leviathan, seems
a tiny craft and almost helpless in the chopped seas that give to the
ship a complex motion so difficult, even for old sailors, to anticipate.
Tidal wave follows tidal wave in rapid succession. Both trough and crest
are whipped into whitecaps like tents afield, till sea and storm seem
leagued to deluge the world again.

Captain Morgan, lashed to the bridge, has full confidence in himself, his
doubled watch ahead, his compasses, and the throbbing engines below.
Dangers have now aroused the man and his courage grows apace. Moments
supreme come to every captain at sea, the same as to captains who wage
wars on the land.

The decks are drenched, great waves pound the forward deck and life-boats
are broken from their moorings. Battened hatches imprison below a
regiment of souls, some suffering the torments of stomachs in open
rebellion, others of heads swollen, while others lose entire control
of an army of nerves that center near and drive mad the brain.

To the uninitiated, words are powerless to reveal the torments of the
imprisoned in a modern steel inquisition, rocking and pitching at the
mercy of mighty torrents in a mid-ocean cyclone. Mephistopheles, seeking
severest punishment for the damned, displayed tenderness in not adopting
the super-heated and sooted pits where stokers in storms at sea are
forced to labor and suffer.

All that terrible second day and night at sea, the Harrises and others
tossed back and forth in their unstable berths, some suffering with
chills and others with burning heat. Some, Mrs. Harris and daughter among
them, lay for hours more dead than alive, their wills and muscles utterly
powerless to reach needed and much coveted blankets.

The dining saloon was deserted except by a few old sea-travelers. Before
dinner, Leo ventured above and for a moment put his head outside. The
gale blowing a hundred miles an hour hit him with the force of a club.
When he went below to see Alfonso, his face was pale, and his voice
trembled as he said, "Harris, before morning we shall all sink to the
bottom of the Atlantic with the 'Majestic' for our tomb." Half undressed,
Leo dropped again into his berth where he spent a miserable night.




CHAPTER VI

HALF-AWAKE, HALF-ASLEEP


Few persons find life enjoyable in a great storm at sea, for the
discomfitures of mind and body are many. The ship's officers and crew are
always concerned about the welfare of the passengers and the safety
of steamer and cargo.

True, Leo, with the instincts of an artist, had stood for hours on the
deck, partially sheltered by a smoke-stack, to study wave motions and the
ever-changing effects of the ocean. Never before had he known its
sublimity. When the sea was wildest and the deck was wave-swept, he in
his safe retreat made sketches of waves and their combinations which he
hoped sometime to reproduce on canvas. At other times, conscious of storm
dangers in mid-ocean, Leo's conscience troubled him. For a year he had
been much in love with a pretty Italian girl, daughter of an official,
long in the service of the Italian government at the port of New York.

Rosie Ricci was fifteen years old when she first met Leo. Dressed in
white, she entered an exhibition of water colors on W. 10th street with
her mother one May morning, as Leo had finished hanging a delicate marine
view sketched down the Narrows.

Glances only between Leo and Rosie were exchanged, but each formed the
resolution sometime, if possible, to know the other. Rosie's father had
died when she was only fourteen years old, and existence for Mrs. Ricci
and her little family had been a struggle. For the last year, a happy
change had come in their condition. A letter had been received from a
rich senator by Mrs. Ricci, which was couched in the tenderest language.
The senator explained in his letter that at a musicale, given on Fifth
Avenue, he had heard a Rosie Ricci sing a simple song that revived
memories of an early day. This fact, coupled with Rosie's charming
simplicity and vivacity of manner, fixed her name in his mind; later he
was reading the _New York Tribune_, and the name Ricci arrested his
attention.

The item mentioned the death of Raphael Ricci, ex-consul, and the
senator's object in writing was to inquire further as to the facts. Did
he leave a competency? If not, would the family receive such assistance
as would enable the daughter, if Rosie Ricci was her daughter, to obtain
a further musical education?

The senator's letter dropped from the mother's hands; she was overcome
with the good news. Rosie picked it up saying, "Mother dear, what is the
matter? What terrible news does it contain?"

"Not bad news, child! possibly good news; a letter from a stranger who
offers aid in our distress, a letter from one holding a high position.
I wonder what it all means? Has the senator been prompted by the spirit
of your anxious father, or is there evil in the communication?"

"Tell me, mother, tell me all about it!" But before the mother could
speak, Rosie was reading the letter aloud. She threw up her hands in
delight and flew into her mother's arms. "How good the Lord is to us!"
Rosie exclaimed. She had been eager for a musical education and to win
fame on the stage.

In June, by appointment, Mrs. Ricci and daughter met the Senator at the
Fifth Avenue Hotel. It was arranged that Rosie should have the best
musical education obtainable in Boston, and further that the senator
should pay her expenses in Boston and New York, and that the mother's
rent should be included in his liberality. At times, the mother
questioned the senator's motives, but he always seemed so kind and
fatherly that she spurned the thought as coming from the Evil One.

The senator as he left, put several bills in Mrs. Ricci's hand, saying,
"You and Rosie will find need of them for clothes for the daughter and
for other expenses."

Never was a girl happier than Rosie the morning she and her mother left
the Grand Central Depot for New England. Rarely, if ever, did a girl work
harder than Rosie at her studies. Her soul often had burned with ambition
for fame and for money so that she could assist her mother. The way was
now open and success was possible. At the sunset hour she often walked
with a friend among the historic elms on Boston Common and in the
beautiful flower gardens.

Often young men longed for her acquaintance, but they could never get the
consent of her pretty eyes. She was petite, her hair black, her eyes dark
brown, her lips ruby-red, and her nose and chin finely chiselled. She had
a cameo-like face and complexion of olive tint that told of the land of
vines and figs in sunny Italy. Her step was elastic, her manner vivacious
and confiding. Her dress was always tidy and stylish. Usually she carried
a roll of music in one hand as she left the conservatory, and lovely
flowers in the other that had been expressed either by the senator or
Leo.

On the completion of her course in the conservatory, Leo had pressed his
suit so devotedly that Rosie consented to an engagement without her
mother's knowledge. The ring of gold contained a single ruby, and Leo had
had engraved on the inside of the ring, "Et teneo, et teneor." When Rosie
saw the old Roman motto she said, "I hold, and am held. How appropriate,
Leo! Your love for me, devotion to the beautiful, and our bright memories
of artistic Italy shall bind us together forever.

"But Leo, why do you put the ring on the third finger before marriage?"

Leo answered, "Because I have read somewhere that many centuries ago the
Egyptians believed that the third finger was especially warmed by a small
artery that proceeded directly from the heart. The Egyptians also
believed that the third finger is the first that a new born babe is able
to move, and the last finger over which the dying lose control."

"Nonsense," replied Rosie, "once the wedding ring, studded with precious
stones, was worn on the forefinger; Christianity moved it to the third
finger. Its use was originated in this way: the priest first put it on
the thumb, saying 'In the name of the Father'; on the forefinger, adding,
'in the name of the Son;' on the second finger, repeating, 'in the name
of the Holy Ghost;' and on the third finger, ending with 'Amen,' and
there it staid."

Abelard and Heloise were not happier in their unselfish affection than
Leo and Rosie in their love. Colors on Leo's canvas now sought each other
in magic harmony. At single sittings in his studio Leo made Madonna
faces, and glowing landscapes, that evoked words of warm praise from his
fellow artists, who were blind to the secret of Leo's remarkable power.

For a Christmas present Leo brought Rosie a picture of his own of Rosie's
beautiful hand holding lilies of the valley; and while she thanked him in
sweetest words, he pinned at her throat a Florentine cameo once worn by
his mother. All these things, and more, came flashing into Leo's mind as
he struggled on the ship's deck to keep his footing in the storm.

A week before the steamer left New York Leo and Rosie had quarreled.
Leo's invitation to accompany the Harrises had come to him from Alfonso
only three days before the "Majestic's" departure, and such was his
momentary ill-humor toward Rosie that he sailed from New York without
even advising her of his new plan, or saying good-bye. Leo, alone on the
sea, often severely rebuked himself that he could have been so unkind to
the woman to whom he had given his heart and his mother's favorite bit of
jewelry.

A thousand times he wished he could ask Rosie's forgiveness, for it was
in a fit of anger that Rosie had snatched the ruby ring off her hand and
the cameo from her throat, and had thrown them into Leo's lap saying,
"Take them, Leo, you will easily find another girl to share your family
name and your poverty as an artist while I have need of wealth." Leo had
turned from Rosie's home without the power to reply, he was so taken by
surprise.

Leo was never so happy as when Rosie was present in his studio to
encourage him by word or song, but now all was changed.

Sometimes Leo in his secret thoughts feared that Rosie's beauty and
charming manner would command riches, and sometimes he dared to think
that possibly his talent and fame might command a handsome dowry. Then
his mind turned to Lucille. She was taller than Rosie, not so vivacious,
but like Rosie enjoyed a happy time. He even ventured at times to say
mentally of Lucille that "it is she or none on earth," and then as he
recalled the ring given to Rosie, the old love would assert itself and he
would shut his eyes, ashamed of an affection that was false hearted. It
was fortunate for Leo that he was a good sailor, as it enabled him to do
many thoughtful things for the Harrises, and thus show his appreciation
of their great kindness to him.

On the third day out from New York, the storm moderated somewhat and the
passengers at breakfast visibly increased in number, but before the lunch
hour was over the fury of the gale returned. The steamer in her course
had crossed the center of the cyclone where the force of the storm was
diminished for a short time only. All that afternoon and night the gale
increased in force till it seemed as if volcanic powers under the sea
were at work turning the ocean upside down.

Pent up forces in the west were loosed, and Neptune, deity of the ocean,
with his three-pronged trident stalked abroad. The bombardment of waves
was terrific, and the twin propellers raced so fiercely that speed was
reduced to a minimum.

In the morning the terrible cyclone had moved to the north, smoother
seas were reached by lunch time, and most of the tables were again
filled. Many of those who were making a first voyage also put in their
appearance, and they were subjected to much chaffing from the veterans
of ocean travel. Captain Morgan and Doctor Argyle were the recipients
of many complimentary words for their skill.

At dinner Leo and Alfonso mustered full forces, and each side scored
every point, for both Mrs. Harris and Lucille entered the dining room,
and everybody enjoyed the menu after a three days' fast. Captain Morgan
spoke of the storm as "the late unpleasantness," and hoped his friends
would not desert him again. Mrs. Harris was silent, but Alfonso and
Lucille promised loyalty for the future, and Leo said, "Captain Morgan,
I believe I haven't missed a meal."

"Bravo, Colonna!" the captain replied, "you really seem to have inherited
the sailing qualities of your great countryman Columbus, and I sincerely
hope that you may render the world equally valuable services."

Lucille added, "I am sure he will, captain; during the gale, he rendered
signal services to suffering humanity."

"To-morrow," continued Captain Morgan, "is the 21st of June, when the day
and night will be of equal length, the sun rising and setting promptly at
six o'clock."

"Why not," said Lucille, "set our watches by the steamer's chronometer,
and have the steward call us at 5:30 o'clock and all test the accuracy of
the almanac?" Mrs. Harris and several others entered heartily into the
plan.

The pure sea-air was so fresh and restful that when three bells or 5:30
o'clock in the morning was heard, the Harris party were easily awakened
and they hastily prepared to witness at sea the sunrise on June 21st.

Leo and Alfonso were first on deck. Mrs. Harris, Lucille, and the Judge,
an acquaintance made on the ship, soon joined them. Their watches agreed
that it was ten minutes to six o 'clock. The decks had been washed and
put in order, engines were running at full speed, the eastern sky was
flushed with crimson and golden bands that shot out of the horizon, and
fan-like in shape faded up in the zenith. With watches in hand, all eyes
were fixed on a pathway of intensely lighted sea and sky in the east.
Suddenly, as the sailor rung out "four bells," or 6 o'clock, Lucille
shouted, "There! See that drop of molten gold floating on the horizon.
Captain Morgan was right as to time. See, judge, how the gold glows with
heat and light as the globe turns to receive the sun's blessings!"

"Yes," said the judge who now for the first time since the storm became
really enthusiastic, "another page of the record book is turned, and the
good and bad deeds of humanity will be entered by the recording angel.
The mighty sun, around which we revolve at fabulous speed is, in its
relations to us mortals, the most important material fact in the
universe. If I ever change my religion I shall become a sun-worshiper.
The Turk in his prayers, five times a day, faces the sun."

An early brisk walk on the deck sharpened appetites, and our
sun-worshipers were among the first at breakfast. Gradually others
entered, and again the dining room was cheerful with sunny faces. After
breakfast the decks were astir with pretty women, children, and gentlemen
lifting their hats. The promenade was as gay as on Fifth Avenue. Doctor
Argyle gave his arm to Mrs. Harris, Lucille walked between Alfonso and
Leo, and doctors of divinity and men of repute in other professions kept
faithful step. Actors and actresses moved as gracefully as before the
footlights. A famous actor carried on his shoulders a tiny girl who had
bits of sky for eyes, a fair face, and fleecy hair that floated in the
sea breeze, making a pretty picture.

Business men with fragrant cigars indulged in the latest story or joke.
By degrees the promenade disappeared as passengers selected steamer
chairs, library, or smoking room, and congenial souls formed interesting
and picturesque groups. At the outset of the voyage you wonder at the
lack of fine dress, and hastily judge the modest men and women about you
to be somewhat commonplace, but after days at sea and many acquaintances
made, you discover your mistake and learn that your companions are
thoroughly cosmopolitan. In fair weather the decks are playgrounds where
children at games enliven the scene, and sailors' songs are heard.

When the old clipper ship took from four to six weeks to cross the
Atlantic, a weekly paper was printed. On some of the swift liners of
to-day on the fourth day out a paper is issued, when perhaps the steamer
is "rolling in the Roaring Forties." The sheet is a four-page affair,
about six inches wide and nine inches long. It gives a description of the
ship signed by the Captain; the daily runs of the ship follow, the
distance still to go is stated, and the probable time it will take to
make port; under "General Information" you learn about seasickness, what
you have not already experienced, the necessity of exercise aboard ship,
also much about the handling of luggage in Europe; some of the prose and
poetry is sure to be good, and is contributed by skilled writers among
the passengers. A column of "Queries" and a few brief stories and jokes
brighten the sheet. The price is fifteen cents, and every copy of "The
Ocean Breeze" is highly prized. On the whole, people at sea enjoy most
the enforced rest, for they escape newspapers, telegrams, creditors, and
the tax-gatherer.

At 11 o'clock on the deck, every pleasant day, a large, well-dressed man,
attended by his valet, generously opened a barrel of fresh oysters for
the passengers. This benevolent gentleman proved to be a famous Saratoga
gambler. In this way he made many acquaintances and friends, and each day
he increased his winnings at cards and in bets on the vessel's run, till
finally, not he, but the guileless passengers paid for the oysters.

Gambling was the business of the man who advertised by his oysters; with
the actor, who romped with the pretty child, gambling was a passion. So
intense was this passion with the actor that he would attempt to match
silver dollars or gold sovereigns with everybody he met when ashore;
between acts on the stage he would telegraph his bet to distant cities.
Crossing parks or walking down Broadway his palm concealed a coin, ready
for the first possible chance. He would match his coat or his home or
even his bank account. On ship he matched sovereigns only.

Occasionally the "Majestic" passed in sight of some other ship, or
"tramp-steamer," and by signal exchanged names and location. Rarely do
the great passenger steamers meet on the Atlantic, as the course outward
is quite to the north to avoid collisions. Half-awake, half-asleep, the
days on shipboard go by as in a dream, and you gladly welcome back
restored health. Perhaps a sweet or strong face wins your interest
or heart, as the case may be, and life-long friendships are formed.
Confidence thus bestowed often begets the same in others, and you are
thankful for the ocean voyage.




CHAPTER VII

LIFE AT SEA A KALEIDOSCOPE


In a shady retreat on the ship after lunch sat the Harrises, Leo, the
judge, and Dr. Argyle, the latter reading a French novel. Leo had just
finished a new novel entitled "A Broken Promise," Alfonso had read
three hundred pages in one of Dickens's novels that tells so vividly how
the poor of London exist.

Dr. Argyle said, "Judge, what do you think of novels anyway?"

The matter-of-fact judge gruffly replied, "I never read the modern novel
because I don't care to waste my time."

Whereupon Alfonso said, "Give me the novel of an idealist that has a
purpose. Colonel Ingersol spoke the truth in a recent lecture when he
said that a realist can be no more than an imitator or a copyist. His
philosophy makes the wax that receives and retains an image of an artist.
Realism degrades and impoverishes. The real sustains the same relation to
ideal that a stone does to a statue, or that paint does to a painting."

"No," replied Leo, "a novel proper should be a love story spiced with
the beauties of nature and exciting adventures. A novel with a purpose,
Alfonso, should advertise under another name for it is a cheat. It is
often written with a deliberate attempt to beguile a person into reading
a story which the writer deliberately planned to be simply the medium of
conveying useful or useless information. Possibly a social panacea, or
the theme may include any subject from separating gold from the ocean,
to proving the validity of the latest theory on electricity."

"Leo, you go too far," said Mrs. Harris, "the modern novel that appears
in press and magazine, and later in book form, entering all our homes,
should teach high morality and contain only proper scenes and passages."

"But, mother," said Lucille, "you would thus debar many of the world's
masterpieces in literature. It seems to me that the morality of character
and scene has little to do with the artistic value of the book. The
realist must depict life as it is. 'Art, for art's sake,' is what
commends a novel to artistic minds."

"The modern novel is too much like modern architecture," said the judge,
"a combination of classical and subsequent styles thrown together to
satisfy groups of individuals rather than to conform to well accepted
rules or ideas of art. Modern novels and modern architecture are sure
to give way to nobler thoughts that shall practically harmonize the
useful and the beautiful."

Dr. Argyle, having asked for opinions on the modern novel, obtained them.
He was an earnest listener as he had wished more knowledge of the Harris
family, which would enable him the better to lay plans; he hoped to win
Lucille's favor.

It was now a quarter to six o'clock and many passengers, including the
Harris group, moved to the port side of the ship to observe if the sun,
at the expiration of twelve hours, would again touch the water. This
twenty-first day of the month had been one of Lowell's rare June days.
It had been ushered in by beautiful cloud coloring.

The ocean was now free from mist, the blue clouds overhead darkened the
sea to the horizon, and it looked as if the sun would set behind clouds.
Unexpectedly, however, the clouds near the water separated, and the sun
again appeared in all his glory, sending a weird light out over the
water, gilding the "Majestic," flooding the faces of the passengers with
an unnatural light, and bringing into strong relief a sailing craft
hovering on the starboard horizon.

"Perfectly beautiful," exclaimed several ladies. "There," said the
purser, as four bells rang out and the gong for dinner sounded, "the sun
is kissing the waves." Before any one could answer, the gorgeous sun was
slowly sinking into the blue waters of the Northern Atlantic. Passengers
held their watches and in three minutes the sun had said farewell.

The dinner was much enjoyed. After an evening of charming moonlight,
midnight found all, save those on duty, asleep in the "Majestic," which
was speeding rapidly towards the safe granite docks at Liverpool.

Moonlight at sea is so bewitching, the wonder is that pleasure-seekers
ever consent to land except when denied the companionship of the silver
goddess of night. Whether she races with the clouds, silver tips the
waves, or with her borrowed light floods the world with fairy-like
beauty, it is only that her admirers may exchange sorrow for joy and
conflict for peace.

The sixth day out, the sun illumined a clear sky, and those that loved
the sea were early on deck for exercise and fresh air. These early risers
were well repaid, as the steamer was passing through a great school of
porpoises that sometimes venture long distances from the British Islands.
Alfonso ran to rap at Lucille's door and she hurried on deck to enjoy the
sight. Hundreds of acres of the ocean were alive with porpoises or sea
hogs as sailors often call them.

Porpoises average five feet in length and are the size of a small boy
and quite as playful. These animals are smooth, and black or gray in
color, except the under side which is pure white. They are gregarious
and very sociable in their habits. Porpoises race and play with each
other and dart out of the sea, performing almost as many antics as the
circus clown. They feed on mackerel and herring, devouring large
quantities. Years ago the porpoise was a common and esteemed article of
food in Great Britain and France, but now the skin and blubber only have
a commercial value. The skins of a very large species are used for
leather or boot-thongs.

The early risers were standing on the prow of the steamer where the
cutwater sent constantly into the air a nodding plume of white spray.
Suddenly the watch shouted, "Whale ahead, sir!" Officers and sailors
were astir. Just ahead, and lying in the pathway of the steamer lay a
whale, fifty feet in length, seemingly asleep, for he was motionless. The
officer's first thought was that he would slack speed, but presence of
mind prompted him to order full speed, planning no doubt, if the whale
was obstinate, to cut him in halves.

Lucille and others, fearful of consequences, turned and ran, but the
leviathan suddenly dropped down out of sight, his broad tail splashing
salt water into the faces of the young people who were bold enough to
await events. With a sense of relief, Leo exclaimed, "Narrow escape,
that!"

"Narrow escape for whom?" Alfonso inquired.

"For both the steamer and the whale," replied Lucille.

On the way to breakfast, Lucille asked an officer if similar instances
frequently happened.

"Rarely," he replied, but added, "very likely we may see other whales in
this vicinity." Sure enough, after breakfast, children ran up and down
the deck shouting, "Whales! Whales!" and several were seen a mile or two
north of the ship's course, where they sported and spouted water.

About four o'clock, the temperature having fallen several degrees, the
passengers sighted to the northeast a huge iceberg in the shape of an
arch, bearing down on the steamer's course, and had it been night,
possibly freighted with all the horrors of a ship-wreck. As it was,
Captain Morgan deemed it wise to lessen the speed as the ship approached
the iceberg.

"This is wonderful, Leo," said Mrs. Harris; "can you tell us where and
when icebergs are formed?"

"Oh yes, Mrs. Harris, icebergs that float down the Atlantic are born on
the west coast of Greenland. Up there great valleys are filled with snow
and ice from hill-top to hill-top, reaching back up the valleys, in some
instances from thirty to forty miles. This valley-ice is called a 'Mer
de Glace,' and has a motion down the valley, like any river, but of
three feet more or less only per day. If time enough is allowed, vast
quantities of this valley-ice move into the gulf or sea. When the sea
is disturbed by a storm the ice wall or precipice is broken off, and
enormous masses, often a hundred times larger than a big building, fall
and float away with the report of the firing of a park of artillery, and
these floating mountains of ice are lighted in their lonely pathways by
the midnight sun."

Before dinner, came the regular promenade which presented many contrasts.
A pretty bride from the Blue Grass Region of Kentucky walked with her
young husband whom she had first met at a New England seaside. She was
glad to aid in bridging the chasm between north and south. Her traveling
dress of blue was appropriately trimmed with gray.

The gorgeously dressed gambler walked on the deck alone. Then came two
modest nuns dressed in gray and white. Alfonso and his mother, the judge
and Lucille, and a group of little children followed. Dr. Argyle and a
Philadelphia heiress kept step. Everybody walked, talked, and laughed,
and the passengers had little need of the ship's doctor now. If the
weather is fair the decks are always enlivened as a steamer approaches
land. The next day, by noon at latest, Ireland and Fastnet Rock would
be sighted, if the ship's reckoning had been correct.

After dinner, Dr. Argyle was walking the deck with Lucille in the
star-light. He had told her much of his family, of his talented brother
in the Church, and of another in the army; he had even ventured
to speak of Lucille's grace of manner, and she feared what might follow.
The call of Mrs. Harris relieved Lucille of an unpleasant situation.

Secretly, Lucille was pleased to escape from Dr. Argyle. Something in his
manner told her that he was not sincere; that he was a schemer, perhaps a
fortune-seeker, and she gladly rejoined her mother.

Mrs. Harris and her children often wondered how matters were progressing
at home. Alfonso had faith in his father's ability to cope with the
strike, but Mrs. Harris and Lucille were much worried. "Don't let us
trouble," said Alfonso, "till we reach Queenstown, as there we shall
surely get a cablegram from father."

Just then Leo joined the family, and Lucille taking his arm, the two
walked the deck, and later they found quiet seats in the moonlight. The
moon's welcome rays revealed fleece-like clouds overhead and changed the
waters astern into acres of diamonds. Gentle breezes fanned the cheeks
of two troubled lovers who thus far had kept well their heart secrets.
Lucille's warm and sensitive nature yearned for some confidant in whom
she could find consolation. Mrs. Harris never quite understood her
daughter. Lucille was noble, generous, and true in her affection. Her
ideal of marriage was that the busy shuttle of life must be of Divine
guidance, and often she was at a loss to understand some of the deep
mysteries that had clouded her own life. Of this world's blessings her
life had been full, except she could not reconcile some of her late
experiences. Of this, of course, Leo knew nothing. He too had had a cup
of bliss dashed suddenly to the ground. A moment of anger had destroyed
his plans for life. The moon's soft light changed Leo's purpose never to
speak to Lucille of his affection for Rosie Ricci, and he now frankly
told her the whole story.

At first Lucille did not wish to believe that Leo had ever been in love,
as her own heart had turned to him in the silent hours of the night when
the pain in her heart forbade sleep.

Trembling she said, "Leo, you have given Rosie up forever then?"

"Oh no, Miss Harris, it was Rosie who said to me, 'Good-bye, Leo,
forever.' She accepted my attentions for a year. Alas! Rosie's love for
the rich man's gold I fear was more powerful than her love for me, a poor
artist, and so she threw back the ruby ring and my mother's cameo, and
crushed my heart and hopes. In accepting the kind invitation of your
brother to accompany your family on this trip, I hoped that the journey
might heal my suffering soul."

"I am delighted," said Lucille, her voice and hand still trembling a
little, "that your own vow was not broken."

Leo's olive complexion was softened in the moon's rays, his face was
saddened by the recital of his deep affliction, and his dark eyes were
lowered, as he looked out upon the troubled pathway of the steamer. For
a moment Lucille earnestly gazed at Leo who seemed to her to be handsome
and noble, but he appeared lost as in a dream. Every man is thought to be
noble by the woman who loves him. Then she took both his hands in hers in
pity and said, "Leo, be brave as your ancestors were brave. You will be a
success in the world because you have remaining your intense love for
art."

"Yes, Lucille, and I think I shall marry art only."

"Don't be rash, Leo, we frail human beings know little in advance as to
heaven's plans."

Few forces work truer in nature than the principle that like begets like.
Leo confided in Lucille, and now Lucille confided in Leo; she slowly told
in low voice the story of her own great disappointment.

"I too, once had an ideal lover. Our souls were one; the day of wedding
even had been fixed; orders for an expensive trousseau had been sent to
Paris; the details of the marriage had been arranged, a long journey
abroad planned, and the city for our future home was selected. These
things had become part of my dreams, and the joy of anticipation was
filling my cup to the brim.

"One evening, in the moonlight, such as now smiles upon us, I asked
Bernard if he would read a short note which I had just received, and tell
me if its contents were true. Bernard removed the letter from the
envelope, looked at the signature, and reading turned pale. The note was
from a lady who asked if I was aware that he had offered himself to
another.

"A second time I pressed the question to know if the contents were true,
and he answered, 'Yes', and added that it was not his fault that he did
not marry the lady.

"'Then you love her still, Bernard?'

"'Yes, Lucille, but I love you also.'

"In anger and disappointed love I left him. Of course all plans for the
marriage were cancelled at once. 'First love or none,' was then written
on my heart, where it still remains."

Lucille wept while Leo sat surprised. He knew not what to say, for her
heart-story and heart edict, "First love or none," had opened his own
wounds afresh, and had shut the door to Lucille's heart perhaps forever.

"Come, Lucille," a call of Mrs. Harris, aroused the courage of Leo, and
he said to Lucille, who with a flushed face looked more beautiful than
ever, "At least we should be friends." "Yes," she murmured, and Mrs.
Harris and her daughter retired.

The night before, the second officer had told Lucille that land would
probably be seen early next day on the port-side. All the morning, Mrs.
Harris was awaiting anxiously more news about the great strike at
Harrisville.

"Land, on the port-side, sir!" shouted the forward lookout, just as four
bells struck the hour of ten o'clock. The officer on duty, pacing the
bridge, raised his glass and in a moment he answered, "Ay! Ay! The
Skelligs."

"What do they mean?" inquired Mrs. Harris of a sailor passing. "The
officer has sighted land, madam. Don't you see the specks of blue low
down on the horizon to the northeast? That's the Skelligs, three rocky
islets off the southwest coast of Ireland, near where I was born, and
where my wife Katy, and the babies live. That's where my dear old mother
also keeps watch for her Patsie."

"Is your name Patsie?" Alfonso asked.

"Yes, sir, Patsie Fitzgerald, and I'm proud of my name, my family, the
Emerald Isle, and the fine steamer that's taking us safely home, and may
God bless all you fine people, and keep my wife and babies and my dear
old mother!"

"Thank you!" said Alfonso, "here, Patsie, is a little money for the
babies," and the sailor tipped his hat and bowed his thanks.

The signal officer on Brea Head, Valentia Island, was soon exchanging
signals with the "Majestic," and five minutes later the sighting of the
"Majestic" was cabled to the Lloyds of Liverpool and London and back to
New York, via Valentia Bay, and it was known that evening in Harrisville
that the Harris family were safely nearing Queenstown.

Travelers experience delightful feelings as the old world is approached
for the first time. All that has been read or told, and half believed, is
now felt to be true, and you are delighted that you are so soon to see
for yourself the "Mother Islands," and Europe which have peopled the
western world with sons and daughters.

With the precision of the New York and Jersey City ferries the ocean
steamers enter the harbors of the old and new world. On the southwestern
coast of Ireland is Bantry Bay, memorable in history as having been twice
entered by the French navy for the purpose of invading Ireland. In sight
is Valentia, the British terminus of the first Atlantic cable to North
America, also the terminus of the cables laid in 1858, 1865, and 1866,
and of others since laid. The distance is 1635 miles from Valentia Bay
to St. John, Newfoundland.

From the deck of the steamer, Ireland seems old and worn. Her rocky capes
and mountainous headlands reach far into the ever encroaching Atlantic
like the bony fingers of a giant. Fastnet Rock lighthouse on the right,
telling the mariner of half-sunken rocks, and Cape Clear on the left,
soon drop behind.

Approaching Queenstown, the green forests and fields and little white
homes of fishermen and farmers are visible along the receding shore.
Roach's Point, four miles from Queenstown is reached, where the mails are
landed and received, if the weather is bad, but Captain Morgan decided
to steam into Queenstown Harbor, one of the finest bays in the world,
being a sheltered basin of ten square miles, and the entrance strongly
fortified. Within the harbor are several islands occupied by barracks,
ordnance and convict depots, and powder magazines. This deep and
capacious harbor can float the navies of the world. In beauty it compares
favorably with the Bay of Naples.

Cove, or Queenstown, as Cove is called, since the visit of Queen Victoria
in 1849, has a population of less than ten thousand. It is situated on
the terraced and sheltered south side of Great Island. Here for his
health came Rev. Charles Wolfe, author of "Not a drum was heard, not a
funeral note."

In the amphitheatre-shaped town on parallel streets rise tiers of white
stone houses, relieved by spire and tower. On neighboring highest hills
are old castles, forts, and a tall white lighthouse.

One or more of Her Majesty's armored warships may always be seen within
the bay. The "Majestic" dropped anchor in the quiet harbor, and the
company's lighter came along side with passengers for Liverpool, and to
take ashore the Queenstown passengers, and the mails which, checked out,
numbered over 1600 sacks. The transatlantic mail is put aboard the
express and hurried to Dublin, thence from Kingston to Holyhead, via a
swift packet across St. George's Channel, and to its destination, thus
saving valuable hours in its delivery throughout Europe.

Several small boats appeared bringing natives who offered for sale fruit,
Irish laces, and canes made of black bog oak, with the shamrock carved on
the handles. Mrs. Harris was much pleased to renew her acquaintance with
the scenes of her girlhood, having sailed from Queenstown for Boston when
she was only ten years old.

The baggage was left on the steamer to go forward to Liverpool, and
Alfonso led the way aboard the lighter, and from the dock to the Queen's
Hotel. Each carried a small satchel, with change of clothing, till the
trunks should be overtaken.

At the hotel Alfonso found the longed-for cablegram from his father which
read as follows:--

  Harrisville,--

  _Mrs. Reuben Harris,
  Queen's Hotel, Queenstown, Ireland._

  Employees still out. Mills guarded. Will hire new men. Searles visits
  Australia. All well. Enjoy yourselves. Love.

  Reuben Harris.

"It's too bad that father and Gertrude couldn't be with us," said Mrs.
Harris.

The lunch ashore of Irish chops, new vegetables, and fruit was a decided
improvement on the food of the last few days. The Harrises after a stormy
sea voyage were delighted again to put foot on mother earth, to enjoy the
green terraces, ivy-clad walls, cottages, and churches, and also to see
the shamrock, a tiny clover, which St. Patrick held up before the Irish
people to prove the Holy Trinity. Lucille found the pretty yellow furz,
the flower which Linnæus, the famous Swedish botanist, kissed.

Alfonso suggested that they take the part rail and part river route
of a dozen miles to Cork, the third city of Ireland. En route are seen
beautiful villas, green park-like fields, rich woods, and a terrace
that adorns the steep banks of the River Lee. A ruined castle at
Monkstown is pointed out, which a thrifty woman built, paying the workman
in goods, on which she cleared enough to pay for the castle, except an
odd groat, hence the saying, "The castle cost only a groat."

A delightful day was spent at Cork, an ancient city, which pagans and
Danes once occupied, and which both Cromwell and Marlborough captured.
Here Rev. Thomas Lee, by his preaching, inclined William Penn, "Father of
Pennsylvania," to become a Quaker. Here was born Sheridan Knowles, the
dramatist, and other famous writers.

After visiting the lakes of Killarney and Dublin, the Harris family took
a hasty trip through England.




CHAPTER VIII

COLONEL HARRIS RETURNS TO HARRISVILLE


The strong will of Reuben Harris was to meet its match, in fact its
defeat. His plans for a well rounded life were nearing a climax when the
telegram from his manager Wilson changed all his plans, and standing on
the pier, as his family steamed away, he experienced the horrors of a
terrible nightmare.

Mechanically he shook his white handkerchief, saw his family carried
far out to sea as if to another world, and he longed for some yawning
earthquake to engulf him. He stood transfixed to the dock; the
perspiration of excitement, now checked, was chilling him when Gertrude
caught his arm and said, "Father, what is the matter?"

Colonel Harris's strong frame trembled like a ship that had struck a
hidden rock, and then he rallied as if from a stupor, and taking Mr.
Searles's arm was helped to a carriage.

He said, "You must pardon me, Mr. Searles, if for a moment I seemed
unmanned. It is a terrible ordeal to be thus suddenly separated from my
family."

"Yes, Colonel Harris, I had a similar experience recently on the docks
in Liverpool when my family bade me adieu, and I came alone to America.
Separation for a time even from those we love is trying."

The heroic in Colonel Harris soon enabled him to plan well for the
afternoon. He telegraphed Mr. Wilson of his decision to return, and then
said, "We will leave New York at 6 o'clock this evening for Harrisville.
Mr. Searles, we will try to use the afternoon for your pleasure. Driver,
please take us to the Windsor Hotel, via the Produce Exchange." The
colonel having left the Waldorf did not wish, under the circumstances,
again to enter his name on its register.

The ride down West Street, New York, at midday, is anything but
enjoyable, as few thoroughfares are more crowded with every kind of
vehicle conveying merchandise from ship to warehouse, and from warehouse
to ship and cars. However, the ride impressed Searles with the immensity
of the trade of the metropolis. West Street leads to Battery Park, the
Produce, and Stock Exchanges, which Colonel Harris desired Mr. Searles
and his daughter Gertrude to see in the busy part of the day.

Colonel Harris explained that here in Battery Park terminated the
Metropolitan Elevated Railway. A railway in the air with steam-engines
and coaches crowded with people interested Mr. Searles greatly.

"In London," he said, "we are hurried about under ground, in foul air,
and darkness often."

"Here at Battery Park, Mr. Searles, November 25, 1783, Sir Guy Carleton's
British army embarked. Our New Yorkers still celebrate the date as
Evacuation Day. Near by at an earlier date Hendrick Christianson, agent
of a Dutch fur trading company, built four small houses and a redoubt,
the foundation of America's metropolis. In 1626 Peter Minuit, first
governor of the New Netherlands, bought for twenty-six dollars all
Manhattan Island."

Mr. Searles visited the tall Washington Building which occupies the
ground where formerly stood the headquarters of Lords Cornwallis and
Howe. He told Gertrude that he had read that, in July, 1776, the people
came in vast crowds to Battery Park to celebrate the Declaration of
Independence, and that they knocked over the equestrian statue of George
III., which was melted into bullets to be used against the British.

"Yes," replied Colonel Harris, "in early days, Americans doubtless lacked
appreciation of art, but we always gave our cousins across-sea a warm
reception."

"Colonel Harris," said Mr. Searles, "it has always puzzled me to
understand why you should have built near Boston the Bunker Hill
Monument."

"Mr. Searles, because we Americans whipped the British."

"Oh no, Colonel, that fight was a British victory."

"Father," said Gertrude, "Mr. Searles is right; the British troops, under
General Gage, drove the American forces off both Breed's Hill and Bunker
Hill. The obelisk of Quincy granite was erected at Charlestown, I think,
to commemorate the stout resistance which the raw provincial militia made
against regular British soldiers, confirming the Americans in the belief
that their liberty could be won."

Mr. Searles thanked Miss Harris for her timely aid and added that a
patriot is a rebel who succeeds, and a rebel is a patriot who fails. He
observed also the witty sign over the entrance of a dealer in American
flags, "Colors warranted not to run."

The party drove to the Produce Exchange, one of the most impressive
buildings in New York. It is of rich Italian Renaissance architecture.
Beneath the projecting galley-prows in the main hall, the fierce
bargaining of excited members reminded Mr. Searles of a pitched battle
without cavalry or artillery.

Gertrude was anxious to climb the richly decorated campanile that rises
two hundred and twenty-five feet, which commands an unrivalled bird's-eye
view of lower New York, the bay, Brooklyn, Long Island, and the mountains
of New Jersey. All hoped to catch a glimpse of the "Majestic," but she
was down the Narrows and out of sight.

Mr. Searles desired to see Trinity Church, so he was driven up Broadway
to the head of Wall Street. Its spire is graceful and two hundred and
eighty-four feet high. The land on which it stands was granted in 1697
by the English government. There were also other magnificent endowments.
Trinity Parish, or Corporation, is the richest single church organization
in the United States, enjoying revenues of over five hundred thousand
dollars a year. In Revolutionary times the royalist clergy persisted in
reading prayers for the king of England till their voices were drowned
by the drum and fife of patriots marching up the center aisle.

It was now past two o'clock and the Harris party was driven to the Hotel
Windsor for lunch. Promptly at six o'clock the conductor of the fast
Western Express shouted, "All aboard," and Colonel Harris, Gertrude, and
Mr. Searles in their own private car, left busy New York for Harrisville.

The Express creeps slowly along the steel way, under cross-streets,
through arched tunnels, and over the Harlem River till the Hudson is
reached, and then this world-famed river is followed 142 miles to
Albany, the capital of the Empire State. This tide-water ride on the
American Rhine is unsurpassed. The Express is whirled through tunnels,
over bridges, past the magnificent summer houses of the magnates of the
metropolis that adorn the high bluffs, past wooded hill and winding dale,
grand mountains, and sparkling rivulets. Every object teems with historic
memories. This ride, in June, is surpassed only when the forests are in a
blaze of autumnal splendor.

For twenty miles in sight are the battlemented cliffs of the Palisades.
Mr. Searles was familiar with the facile pen of Washington Irving, and
from the car caught sight of "Sunny Side" covered with nourishing vines,
grown from slips, which Irving secured from Sir Walter Scott at
Abbottsford.

Passing Tarrytown Colonel Harris said, "Here Major Andre was captured,
and the treachery of Benedict Arnold exposed, otherwise, we might to-day
have been paying tribute to the crown of Great Britain."

"Yes," replied Mr. Searles, "George Washington, patriot, hung Major
Andre, the spy. You made Washington president, and we gave Andre a
monument in Westminster Abbey."

Sing Sing and Peekskill were left behind, and the Express was approaching
the picturesque Highlands, a source of never failing delight to tourists.
West Point, the site of the famous United States Military Academy, is on
the left bank of the Hudson in the very bosom of the Highlands.

The sun set in royal splendor behind the Catskills;

  "And lo! the Catskills print the distant sky,
  And o'er their airy tops the faint clouds driven
  So softly blending that the cheated eye
  Forgets or which is earth, or which is heaven."

"Mr. Searles," said Colonel Harris, "before leaving America you must
climb the Catskills. Thousands every summer, escaping from the heat and
worry of life, visit those wind-swept 'hills of the sky.' There they find
rest and happiness in great forests, shady nooks, lovely walks, and fine
drives.

"There are several hotels in the vicinity. From one hotel on an
overhanging cliff you behold stretched out before you a hundred miles of
the matchless panorama of the Hudson. The Highlands lie to the south, the
Berkshire Hills and Green Mountains to the east, and the Adirondacks to
the north. The latter is a paradise for disciples of Nimrod and of Izaak
Walton, and a blessed sanitarium for Americans, most of whom under skies
less gray than yours do their daily work with little if any reserve
vitality."

Gertrude, who had excused herself some minutes before, now returned. She
had been visiting in an adjoining Pullman a friend of hers, whom she had
met for a moment in the Grand Central Station before the train started.
Calling Colonel Harris aside, she said, "Father, Mrs. Nellie Eastlake, my
classmate at Smith College, is going with friends to the Pacific Coast;
shall I ask her to dine with us?"

"Certainly, child, invite her, and I am sure, Mr. Searles, that you
concur in my daughter's plan to increase our party at dinner, do you
not?"

"Most assuredly, Colonel."

A little later charming Mrs. Eastlake followed Gertrude into the
"Alfonso," and soon dinner was announced. The steward, thoughtlessly, had
forgotten in New York to purchase flowers for the table, but they were
not missed.

There are women in this world whose presence is so enjoyable that they
rival the charm of both art and flowers. Their voices, their grace of
manner, their interest in you and your welfare, laden the air with an
indescribable something that exhilarates. Their presence is like the
sunshine that warms and perfumes a conservatory; you inhale the odors of
roses, pinks, and climbing jessamines. Such a woman was Nellie Eastlake.
She was tall and winning. The marble heart of the Venus of Milo would
have warmed in her presence. Shakespeare would have said of her eyes,
"They do mislead the morn."

Mrs. Eastlake was in sympathy with the Harrises in their keen
disappointments. She possessed the tact to put Mr. Searles in the
happiest frame of mind, so that he half forgot his mission to America.
The Colonel also forgot, for the hour, that his family were absent, and
that his workmen in Harrisville were on a strike.

Mrs. Eastlake in her girlhood had converted all who knew her into ardent
friends. While at school on the Hudson, she met the rich father of a
schoolmate. Later she was invited to travel with this friend and her
father, Mr. Eastlake, a widower, among the Thousand Islands and down the
St. Lawrence River. She so charmed the millionaire that after graduation
at Smith College she accepted and married him. She was now journeying to
her palatial home on the Pacific Coast. She skilfully helped to guide the
table-talk, avoiding unwelcome topics. The dinner over, a half-hour was
spent with music and magazines, and the party retired for the night.

Breakfast was served as the Express approached Lake Erie. It was agreed
that Mr. Searles should accompany Mrs. Eastlake and Gertrude in the car
"Alfonso," and spend a day or two at Niagara Falls.

Colonel Harris kissed Gertrude, said good-bye to all, and taking a seat
in a Pullman, continued alone on his journey to Harrisville. Returning
home he hoped, if possible, to set matters right at the steel mills
before Mr. Searles arrived.

Left to himself, he now had opportunity for reflection. The time was,
when he was as proud of his ability to do an honest day's work at the
forge as he was to-day proud of his great wealth and growing power in the
manufacturing world. Then he was poor, but he was conscious of forces
hidden within which if used on the right things and at the right time and
place he believed would make him a man of influence.

He was able then with his own hands to fashion a bolt, a nail, or
horseshoe, unsurpassed in the county. He was handy in shaping and
tempering tools of every kind. When he ate his cold dinner, reheating his
coffee over the forge coals, he often thought of the dormant fires within
him, and he wondered if they would ever be fanned to a white heat. For
years he had toiled hard to pay the rent of his forge and home and his
monthly bills. His wife was saving and helpful in a thousand ways, but
life was a hard struggle from sun to sun.

One summer's day when work was slack, there came to his shop a tall
Englishman to get a small job done. So well was the work performed by
Harris that the Englishman, whose name was James Ingram, said to Harris,
"I believe you are the mechanic I have long been looking for. In early
life I was apprenticed in England to a famous iron-master, and when the
Bessemer patents for converting iron into steel were issued, it was my
good fortune to be a foreman where the first experiments were made by
Henry Bessemer himself, and so I came to have a practical knowledge of
Bessemer's valuable invention; but my health failed, and for six months
I have been in your country in search of it, and now being well again,
I plan to start if possible a Bessemer steel plant in America. Can you
help me?"

Reuben Harris was quick to see that great profits might be realized from
Bessemer's patents and Ingram's ideas, and promptly said, "Yes, but I
must first know more about these patents and their workings." Before a
week had passed, he had learned much from Ingram concerning the practical
working of the Bessemer process of converting iron into steel. Bessemer
claimed that his steel rails would last much longer than the common iron
rail then in use.

Reuben Harris easily comprehended that the profits would be large. It was
verbally agreed between Harris and Ingram that they would share equally
any and all profits realized. Ingram had contributed reliable knowledge,
Harris was to enlist capital, and both were to make use of all their
talents, for they were both skilled mechanics.

It was not an easy matter for Harris to secure capital, for capital is
often lynx-eyed, and usually it is very conservative. It was especially
cautious of investment in Harris's schemes, as the practical workings of
the Bessemer process were not yet fully understood in America.

The profits promised by both Harris and Ingram to capitalists were great,
and this possibly made capital suspicious. Finally enough ready money was
obtained to make a successful experiment, which so convinced a few rich
men that more money was immediately advanced, and the steel plant was
soon furnishing most satisfactory steel rails at greatly reduced cost for
both the manufacturer and consumer.

Harris's ability to manage kept pace with the rapid growth of the new
enterprise, while Ingram's knowledge and inventive talents proved that as
superintendent of the steel plant he was the right man in the right
place.

At first Harris found great difficulty in convincing railway managers
that the steel rail would render enough more service to compensate for
the additional cost. The most anybody could say in favor of the steel
rail was largely theoretical. The Bessemer steel rail had had only a few
months of actual service, long enough, however, to demonstrate that at
the joints it would not batter and splinter like the iron rail. This was,
indeed, a desideratum and many orders came in. Not only was the steel
mill kept running day and night, but orders accumulated so rapidly that
large additions were made to the mills.

Money for all these improvements and the capital necessary to carry on
the increasing business were matters of vital importance to the success
of the company. To manage a business with greatest advantage quite as
much ready cash is needed as is invested in the plant, otherwise the
banker's discount becomes a heavy lien on the profits, and the
stockholders grumble at small dividends.

Possibly Reuben Harris overestimated the value of his service in
financiering the business; at least he came to believe that he earned,
and ought to have a larger interest than James Ingram. Ingram, became
so cramped by assessments and money obligations that he was obliged to
sell to Harris most of his interest in the steel plant. Harris's
interests increased, till practically he was the owner of the Harrisville
Iron & Steel Works, and much property besides. He was quoted as a
millionaire, while James Ingram was superintendent of only a department
of the steel works, and his income was nominal. Often he felt that great
injustice had been done him. Several times he had talked the matter over
with Colonel Harris, but with little satisfaction.

The great wrong done to James Ingram, to whom Harris was so largely
indebted for the initial and practical knowledge of successfully
manufacturing steel rails was uppermost in Reuben Harris's mind as
the express hurried him back to Harrisville.




CHAPTER IX

CAPITAL AND LABOR IN CONFERENCE


Colonel Harris's awakened conscience was considering seriously the
question, "How can I right this wrong done to Ingram?" when the Express
stopped at a station thirty miles out of Harrisville, and into his car
came the son of James Ingram, George Ingram who was now superintendent of
the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co.'s plant. Somebody, perhaps Gertrude, had
telegraphed from Buffalo to the superintendent to tell him on which train
Colonel Harris expected to return.

George Ingram was visibly affected as he took the proffered hand of
Reuben Harris, and inquired about his health and the whereabouts and
welfare of his family. Harris implored young Ingram to tell him all about
the strike, its latest phases, and what the municipal authorities were
doing for the protection of his property. George Ingram gave him a brief
history of the troubles up to the time of his leaving Harrisville. He
told how the manager aided by the company's general counsel, Mr. Webster,
had used every possible argument with the workingmen's committee; that a
statement even had been submitted, showing that very small or practically
no profits had resulted from recent contracts, which were now being
completed by the company. The effort to arrive at a satisfactory
adjustment with the employees was thus far absolutely fruitless. Since
daylight the four thousand men had been parading the streets with music
and clubs, forcing employees of other establishments to quit work, and
threatening to destroy the steel plant.

The color in Colonel Harris's face came and went as he listened, showing
a white heat of indignation. Ingram sat facing his employer, watching the
emotions of a strong man, and not then daring to offer any suggestion,
for he felt strongly in behalf of the employees, who always looked upon
him as their friend.

Colonel Harris was a man of powerful build, wide forehead, overhanging
brows, broad chest and shoulders, short thick neck, and strong arms
developed at the anvil. His superintendent from boyhood had studied him,
but never before had he seen the lion in his employer so aroused.

Arriving at Harrisville the wealthy iron-master, accompanied by his
superintendent, stepped into his own private carriage, and immediately
drove to the general offices of the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co. The
directors of the company were in special session to devise means of
protecting their threatened property and of crushing the strike.

B.C. Wilson, the manager, rose to greet Colonel Harris, who shook hands
with him and the directors, and then the meeting was resumed, Harris
acting as chairman of the board. Colonel Harris soon grasped the
situation, and he approved of all that his directors and manager had
done.

Rising to his feet, in a firm tone, he made a vigorous talk to his board:
"Gentlemen, my views as to the best method of dealing with the important
question before us are known to some of you. Four years ago a similar
trouble perplexed our company, and our failure then to act decisively
resulted in prolonging the discontent among our employees. Their purposes
are as apparent to-day as then, viz., to rule or ruin our gigantic
enterprise. Capital and labor should be the best of friends.
Unfortunately, trusts and labor organizations are alike avaricious and
selfish.

"Centuries ago, in Belgium, weavers dictated terms to capital, and hurled
rich men from balconies to death upon spears below. This unnatural
revolution lasted for a short time only; brains and wealth again acquired
control, and they always will control. To yield to our employees the
privilege of fixing their own wages, and a voice in directing the affairs
of our company is to cloud or mortgage our capital. This is a most
unreasonable demand. Why should they expect us to share with them our
property, title to which the United States has guaranteed?

"If our state, or national government cannot or will not defend us in the
title to our property, on which they yearly levy taxes, then we will
place our interests beneath a flag that can and will give ample
protection. This terrible uncertainty as to titles and values in the
United States will yet wreck the republic."

It was natural that the directors should heartily approve Colonel
Harris's utterances, as he was the owner of five-sixths of the stock of
the company. He then asked Mr. Webster their general counsel, to read
to the board the position which the company proposed to take before the
public.

Mr. Webster was a tall, elderly man, who had served five years on the
supreme bench of his state, an attorney of few words, but well versed in
the laws of his country, especially in corporation laws. Holding a sheet
of paper in his hands he read, "The Harrisville Iron & Steel Company
claims the fundamental right to manage its own business in its own way,
in accordance with and under the protection of the laws of the land."

The board voted its approval of the attorney's position, and also voted
that a petition be drawn and immediately sent to the mayor of the city
asking protection for their property. The board then adjourned.

Colonel Harris, his manager, and Mr. Webster entered a carriage, and
drove rapidly to the mayor's office, while superintendent George Ingram
drove back to the steel works to execute his orders, though he did not
believe in harsh measures. Harris presented the petition to the mayor,
who hastily examined it. Bands of music were now audible on the street,
and a long procession of workingmen, bearing national banners, was seen
marching towards the city hall. Citizens on the streets held their
breath, and policemen feared the outcome.

Colonel Harris rose to go, but the Mayor seized his arm and said,
"No! you and your friends must stay here and meet a committee of your
employees who have an appointment with me at three o'clock.

"Already I have said to the same committee, who called at ten o'clock
this morning, that I should expect them to influence your employees to
keep the peace, to aid in protecting your property, to disperse quietly
and remain in their homes. Colonel Harris, please be seated, you and your
friends must remain."

"Well, Mr. Mayor, since you insist, we will remain, but our company
demands the protection of all our property, and the preservation of peace
and lives in our midst. You are the city's executive officer. The payment
annually by our corporation of thousands in taxes, calls for an
equivalent, therefore we ask that you maintain the dignity of the city
and her laws."

The mayor stepped to the telephone and called Major Strong, the chief of
police. "Send at once a captain and twenty-five policemen in patrol
wagons to the city hall. Hold fifty more men in readiness."

A great throng of people occupied the sidewalks and the windows of
adjoining buildings. Thousands of workmen crowded the pavement from curb
to curb. The vast crowd below, though impressive was not new to Colonel
Harris nor did it alarm him.

Four years before, his employees were out on a strike for several months.
Then the issue was, "Will the company recognize the demands of the
Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel Workers of America?" The reply
of the company was, "No!" The struggle then was severe, but the strike
failed. The present issue was, "Will the company pay an increase of
wages?"

The committee of five of the employees soon entered the mayor's office.
They were much surprised to find that Colonel Harris had returned to the
city; it was believed that he had actually set sail for Europe. The
committee unfortunately was a radical one, and did not represent the
average thoughtful and conservative type of workingmen. Evidently the
committee had been selected for the purpose of intimidating capital, as
their manner did not indicate a conciliatory policy.

Mr. Burns, acting as spokesman, said, "Mr. Mayor, it is 3 o'clock, and we
are back again promptly, as you requested, and you see that our committee
is increased by several thousand workingmen on the street below who have
come to demand bread of a soulless corporation. Mayor Duty, what do you
advise us to do?"

The Mayor was nervous as he replied, "Mr. Burns and members of the
committee, I confess that so many thousands of honest and upturned faces
of workingmen move my heart. If I were able it would give me pleasure
first to ask you all to partake of a good meal, for more satisfactory
business is usually accomplished after people are well fed. You ask my
advice. Here, gentlemen of the committee, is Colonel Harris, your
employer, let him speak to you."

Memories of a wife and three babies at home, dependent for bread upon his
own earnings at the forge, flashing upon the mind of Colonel Harris,
sweetened his spirit and softened his voice, so that he spoke briefly and
kindly to the committee, repeating, however, what his manager had told
the committee at ten o'clock, viz., "that the present bad condition of
the steel market would not permit the company to grant the advance of
wages they asked."

The committee, aware of the large profits of former years, sullenly
retired, and after the company's decision had been communicated to the
anxious thousands below, the employees of the Harrisville Iron & Steel
Co. slowly returned to their homes. The mayor ordered his chief of
police to dispatch immediately in patrol wagons fifty men to the steel
works, to guard the property and keep the peace.

After the committee retired, the mayor said, "Well, Colonel Harris, what
will be the outcome?"

"Mr. Mayor, we cannot foretell anything. You never know what workingmen
in their lodges will do. There, as a rule, the 'Walking delegate' and a
few agitators rule with despotic power. If a workman, whose large family
forces him to take conservative views, dares in his lodge to suggest
peaceful measures, an agitator rises at once in indignation and demands
that traitors to the cause of labor be expelled. This throttles freedom
of action in many labor unions, so that often what appears on the surface
to be the unanimous action of the members of workingmen's leagues, is but
the exercise of despotic power by a few men who have nothing to lose, and
whose salary is paid from the slim purses of honest labor.

"Usually those who talk much and loudly think little and unwisely, and
the opposite to their advice is safest to follow. The greatest need
to-day in most of our labor organizations is wise leadership, and this
will result when the best element in the labor lodges asserts itself.

"The despotism of ill-advised labor is to be dreaded by civilization more
than the reign of intelligent capital. This is especially true in the
United States, where under wise laws, wealth cannot be entailed, and
where most large fortunes soon disappear among the heirs.

"A simple pair of shears illustrates perfectly the relationship that
capital and labor should sustain each to the other. Capital is one blade
of the shears, and labor is the other blade; either blade without the
other is useless, and the two blades are useless unless the rivet is in
place. Confidence is to capital and labor what the rivet is to the two
blades. The desideratum to-day in the business world is full and abiding
confidence between capital and labor." Thus speaking Colonel Harris and
his friends left the mayor and returned to their homes.

       *       *       *       *       *

After a visit to Niagara Falls, Mr. Searles and his party went on to
Harrisville, where Mrs. Eastlake rejoined some friends and continued her
long journey to the Pacific Coast. Colonel Harris met his daughter and
Mr. Hugh Searles at the station, the latter, under the circumstances,
being the last person he cared to see. The carriage was driven at once to
Reuben Harris's beautiful home that overlooked Harrisville and blue Lake
Erie.

After dinner Colonel Harris explained to Mr. Searles all about the
inopportune strike; also that it was impossible to say when the steel
plant would be started again. Mr. Searles decided next morning that after
a short ride through Harrisville he would continue his journey through
the States to California, and possibly to Australia, where he had another
important interest to attend to in behalf of a London client.

It was further arranged that he would return to London via Harrisville in
about six months, if so desired by Colonel Harris, otherwise he would
complete the journey around the world, returning to England by way of the
Suez Canal.




CHAPTER X

KNOWLEDGE IS POWER


The Ingrams lived not far from the steel mills in one of two wooden
houses, each two stories in height, which Reuben Harris and James Ingram
had built for their families, when they began in a modest way to
manufacture steel. As Reuben Harris grew rich he moved his family into
a beautiful home in the fashionable part of the city, and good society
accepted them as their equals.

The large family and small income of James Ingram forced him to continue
his residence in the same brown house near the steel mills. The Ingram
family kept much to their English ways and knew little or nothing of
society. The English and Germans cling tenaciously to their old habits
and customs which they carry across seas and over mountains. Generations
must elapse before it will be safe to predict what the national type of
an American citizen will be. One discovers on the British Isles the
mixture of centuries of European blood which has developed a virility of
body and brain that dominates the globe. "More honor to be a British
subject to-day than to have been a Roman in Rome's palmiest days," thought
James Ingram, who was proud of his race and his family blood.

James Ingram came from a well-bred English household. His environment now
hedged him in. In England ill-health, and now, in America, ill-treatment
made him miss golden opportunities. Except good qualities are inbred, it
is almost as impossible for a person in one stratum of society to be
lifted up into another as it is for the geological strata of the earth to
change positions.

The grandmother of James Ingram had good blood in her veins; she came
from a family that had performed valiant deeds in war and in peace. James
Ingram's father had erred in judgment, and a large estate, partially
inherited, had been swept away as by a flood. He died, leaving James the
eldest son to aid in supporting his mother and several children.

James Ingram was now over fifty years of age. Could he, or his children,
retrieve their family prestige was a question he often asked himself. He
still had energy, unconquerable determination, and faith in himself.
These are some of the essential elements in a successful character; but
the fates thus far had decreed adversely. His early education was not of
the best, but by carefully devoting not less than two hours a day to good
reading, he had not only kept pace with current history, but had also
acquired a helpful knowledge of the sciences.

When his oldest son George was born, he planned to give his children the
best education possible. Two of his three daughters were teaching in the
public schools; May Ingram taught music. Two of his sons worked in the
mills, one as chemist and one as an electrician; a third son was
conductor on a passenger train, and a fourth was studying to be a
physician.

The father and his son, George, after the day's work at the mills
was over, spent much time over a problem which, if solved, would
revolutionize many things. Twice they thought they were on the eve of a
solution of the subject, but unforeseen obstacles were encountered, and
still they struggled on.

It is no wonder that the father was proud of George, now chemist of the
vast steel works, for he was manly and respected by all the employees.
When a boy, George worked nights, Saturdays, and during his vacations in
the mills, and the men came to know and love his genial ways and fair
methods, and thus he gained a good knowledge of steel-making.

His father was urgent that his son should not miss a single day in his
schooling. At length he graduated at the high school with the esteem of
his teachers and his class. During the twelve years spent in public
schools he had acquired a fine discipline of mind, a love of the
sciences, and enough of Latin and Greek to aid him in determining the
derivation and exact meaning of words. Co-education too had refined his
nature, and enabled him to estimate correctly his own abilities, but best
of all he had come to know at the high school the second daughter of
Reuben Harris, Gertrude, who graduated in his own class. During the
senior year he had frequently walked and talked with her, and came to
know somewhat of her plans.

Gertrude's parents, especially Mrs. Harris, were anxious that both their
daughters should go to private schools, and Lucille was easily persuaded
to attend a young ladies' seminary, where æsthetic accomplishments were
emphasized and considered essentials and a passport into good society.
But Gertrude decided in favor of a public school education.

Lucille and Gertrude as sisters were fond of each other, but Lucille
lived more for self, while Gertrude preferred others to self. Gertrude
had learned early how by a smile or bow to retain an old friend or to
win a new one. She spent very little time thinking about her own needs,
preferring to take flowers or fruit, even when given her, to some sick or
aged person. Nothing pleased her more than to visit the Old Ladies' Home
with a few gifts and read the Bible or comforting stories to the inmates.

Mrs. Harris when east chanced to spend a June day at Wellesley College
near Boston. By early moonlight several hundred Wellesley girls and
thousands of spectators had assembled on the banks of Lake Waban to enjoy
the "Float." Gaily uniformed crews in their college flotilla formed
a star-shaped group near the shore for their annual concert. Chinese
lanterns, like giant fire-flies, swung in the trees and on many graceful
boats. The silver notes of the bugle and the chant of youthful voices
changed the college-world into a fairyland.

Both mother and daughter were charmed and Lucille gladly decided to enter
Wellesley. Hard study, however, and the daily forty-five minutes of
domestic work then required, did not agree with her nature, and after a
few weeks she decided upon a change, and continued her education at one
of the private schools on the Back-Bay in Boston.

Gertrude, possessing a more active mind and ambition, resolved to obtain
an education as good as her brother Alfonso had had at Harvard. She had
read of a prominent benefactor who believed that woman had the same right
as man to intellectual culture and development, and who in 1861 had
founded on the Hudson, midway between Albany and New York, an institution
which he hoped would accomplish for women what colleges were doing for
men.

So Gertrude applied for enrollment and was admitted to Vassar College.
Rooms were assigned her in Strong Hall. She liked Vassar's sensible way
of hazing, a cordial reception being given to freshmen by the sophomores.
She was glad to be under both men and women professors, for this in part
fulfilled her idea of the education that women should receive.

At Vassar were several girls from Harrisville whom Gertrude knew, but no
boys. She wrote her mother that she would be better pleased if Vassar had
less Greek and more boys. She could not understand why co-education at
the high school in Harrisville, that worked perfectly, should stop at the
threshold of Vassar, or other women's and men's colleges.

The two following years on the beautiful Hudson were happy years for
Gertrude. She conquered mathematics, stood well in Latin, and was
enthusiastic in the study of psychology, the science of mind, which
teaches the intimate relation of mental phenomena to the physical
organism. German was an elective study with Gertrude, which she had
studied at the high school, but at Vassar she learned to write and talk
the language with accuracy and freedom, which is not usual, unless one
lives in a German family.

Gertrude was already planning to study history and some of the sciences
in original German text-books, if occasion offered. She cared little
for music, though she was extremely fond of poetry and now and then
contributed verses for publication. Her essay on architecture at the
close of the second year elicited applause from the students and praise
in red ink across the first page of the composition.

Self-government of the Vassar girls develops self-respect and
self-control. A Vassar girl is bound on her honor to retire every night
at ten o'clock, with three exceptions a month, to exercise in the
gymnasium three hours a week, and to take at least one hour of outdoor
exercise daily. Regular exercise, regular meals, nine hours of sleep, and
plenty of mental work were rapidly preparing Gertrude to fill some noble
position in the world.

At Vassar other sources of mental rest and physical strength are,
tennis-court tournaments, basket ball, rowing and skating on the lake,
bicycling, or five-mile tramps, studying birds, photographing scenery, or
gathering wild flowers. The Vassar girl is also enthusiastic over the
"Tree and Trig Ceremonies" and amateur dramatic entertainments.

Gertrude closed her second and last year at Vassar with regret. The
farewell "fudge" party was for Gertrude, and given in her own room by a
score of her warm personal friends. The rule for "fudge-making" is, two
cups of sugar, milk, two rolls of butter melted with chocolate in a
copper kettle over a gas stove. The fused compound is poured into paper
plates and cut into tiny squares. So eager is the Vassar girl for "fudge"
that the struggle is earnest for the first taste, and for the cleaning of
the big spoon and kettle. The Vassar girl has a sweet tooth, and "fudge"
parties always evolve love stories and fun in abundance.

After a pleasant vacation in the Adirondacks with friends, Gertrude
resolved to complete her education at Smith College on the lovely
Connecticut River, which winds through western Massachusetts. To educate
a whole family of boys and girls at the "dear old alma mater" is now an
exploded fancy. A better plan is to educate the half dozen brothers and
sisters at a half dozen good colleges. What faculty of educators can lay
claim to all the best methods of evolving characters?

The industry and economy of James Ingram had enabled him to send his son
George for two years to the Polytechnic Institute at Troy. Suddenly
financial troubles made it impossible for him longer to assist his son.
Mrs. Harris, very likely by Gertrude's suggestion, offered to provide
funds for the third and last year at the institute, and George was
delighted to complete his course.

By invitation, George had spent the last days of his vacation with
Gertrude in the Adirondacks, and he had accompanied Mrs. Harris and her
daughters back to Albany, while the mother continued the journey leaving
Gertrude at Smith College, Northampton, and Lucille at Boston. Mrs.
Harris was justly proud of her girls. Their figure and dress often caused
people to stop in their conversation or reading, as mother and daughters
entered a car or a hotel.

George Ingram returned to the institute with high hopes. A few of his
plans were revealed to Gertrude on the last night of his vacation. He
told her some things he never dared mention before to any one. They were
on Saranac Lake and the moon seemed to change the water to silver. Their
birch canoe drifted along the shore and George, dropping his oars,
reversed his seat and faced the girl he loved as he told her much of his
plan for life. Gertrude dipped her oars lightly in the water, George
guiding the canoe beneath the forest overhanging the pebbly shore.

Thus far his education had been a struggle. Time which his mates employed
in recreation he had used in the steel mill. Thus he gained a trade and a
knowledge of the value of time. Early he had learned that knowledge is
power and that intellect and wealth rule the world. He told Gertrude that
she had kindled within him the spark of ambition, and that he proposed to
make life a success. "Gertrude, you must be my friend in this struggle,"
he added.

"Yes, George, always your friend," she replied.

He felt that Gertrude meant all she said. Long ago her sincerity had
captured his heart. Her sympathy, her unselfishness, and her words of
helpfulness had been the light by which he was shaping his course.

Another school year went by swiftly, and both Lucille and Gertrude were
present in June at Troy to see George Ingram graduate. It was a pity that
his own father and mother, who had sacrificed so much for him, could not
attend. How often his noble mother had prayed for her first-born son, and
Gertrude had prayed too, but George did not know this.

At times he was conscious of a strong force within, impelling him
forward, whose source he could not divine, neither could he free himself
from it. Fortunate person whose sails are filled with breezes from
heaven, for craft of this kind go forward guided rightly, almost without
the rudder's aid!

George pursued at the institute a three years' course, leading up to the
degree of Bachelor of Science. After the first two years he took less
higher mathematics and more natural history, chemistry, and geology. The
institute is within easy access of engineering works and manufacturing
plants of great diversity, which afforded young Ingram opportunities for
valuable investigation and observation. His graduating thesis was
entitled, "A Design for an Electrical Steel Plant with Working Details,
Capacity One Thousand Tons per Diem." It was much complimented,
especially the detail drawings for the plant.

His books and clothes had been packed and shipped to Harrisville.
Reluctant good-byes were given to all the professors, class-mates, and
many townspeople, who were fond of him. Life in Troy had been a constant
inspiration, for he was in touch with young men from cultivated families
which in itself is an education. George had the usual experience of the
student world, for to him all the professors were very learned men.

After George had locked the door of his old study-room to go to the
train, he stopped in the hallway in serious thought, then turning back
he unlocked the door and again entered the dear old rooms. He reseated
himself at the desk, where he had so often studied far into the night.
He took another look into the bedroom, into the little store-room, and
pleasant memories crowded his mind, as for the last time he gazed from
the window towards the Berkshire Hills, beyond which Gertrude was
being educated, and then as he finally re-locked the door, he recalled
his afternoon engagement to meet Gertrude and Lucille at 4:30 o'clock at
the Albany station to take the Boston & Chicago Special for Harrisville.

George had entered the institute with a light heart and much zest,
because three years of progressive work were marked out for him. His
mental journey had now ended and his heart was heavy. No road opened
before him except the one that led back to the dingy old Harrisville
mills. In the last three years his sky had lifted a little, but the
intelligence gained only made him all the more conscious of the small
world in which he and his family lived. How was he ever to earn a living
for two, if Gertrude should possibly say "yes?"

Just as he put his foot on the platform of the railway station a letter
was placed in his hand by a fellow classmate. The envelope bore the
printed address of the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co. George, thinking the
letter was from his father, instantly tore it open and began reading. At
first his face flushed and then it was lit with joy.

"Good tidings, I hope," said Gertrude, as she with her sister approached.

"Yes, Gertrude, read for yourself. A friend at court is a friend indeed."

The two sisters were delighted and heartily congratulated George. "Of
course, you will accept the position?" inquired Gertrude.

"Your father, Gertrude, is very kind to me, and I believe I could fill
satisfactorily the position of chemist now offered by the steel company.
Later, Gertrude, we can talk this matter over." Three happy young people
bought tickets for home and took seats in a Pullman car.

After a week's rest, George Ingram assumed the duties of assistant
chemist for the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co. Two weeks' initiation by the
old chemist, whose health was failing, sufficed to give young Ingram
efficiency and confidence in his desirable position.




CHAPTER XI

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE


The school vacation of the Harris young ladies came and went on wings.
The mother was too ill to leave her home; she stood in her door-way, and
gave her farewell, "God keep and bless you, children!" The father had
gone to Chicago, so George Ingram saw the daughters off touching
Gertrude's hand, with a hearty good-bye as she stood in the car door.

As George returned slowly to his task at the steel mills, he resolved to
use his evenings in post-graduate work. The more he studied iron ores and
steel-making, the more he felt that he must conquer the whole intricate
subject, if he would be of greatest service to his employers. The intense
competition in the trade demanded it.

The Empire State Express, the fastest train in the world, carried
Gertrude and Lucille through New York state with speed and ease to
delightful New England. Secretly Gertrude loved George, and she
resolved to study chemistry and electricity and keep pace with his
studies, and if ever asked to become his wife, to aid him in every
possible way. She thought that she discovered in him the material for
a noble man, a statue which she hoped to chisel. Too often marriageable
young women and their anxious mothers demand the complete statue at the
outset, and are not content to accept and chisel granite.

At Smith College the months sped rapidly, as earnest study and bright
expectations occupied Gertrude's time and satisfied her heart. Every week
brought a letter and a reply was promptly sent. George wanted to write
twice a week, but Gertrude checked him, saying that both needed their
time, and that too frequent correspondence, like too much intimacy, often
brings disfavor.

"More details of the doings at the steel mills," wrote Gertrude. She
cared more about the welfare of her father's employees and their families
and George Ingram's plans than to know the latest fad in society. George
was equally anxious to keep her informed, and to learn of her
intellectual advancement, what books she read, and her views on the
leading topics of the day.

Her first letter began, "My Coatless Friend," a reference to the loss of
a linen coat or duster, when the last ride at Harrisville was taken. The
second letter began "Friend George," and the third, "My dear Friend."
Gertrude and George never addressed each other twice alike in their
whole correspondence. The weekly letters were always torn open by each in
haste, and both noticed a gradual increase of warmth in these addresses.
The fact that Gertrude was an heiress neither hindered nor helped his
devotion. His heart was attracted by her many charms.

At Smith College Gertrude occupied rooms in the Morris Cottage among the
apple tree blossoms. Much of her spare time was spent in the scientific
library and laboratory of Lilly Hall, or with the professor and his
telescope in the observatory.

On clear nights, aided by the telescope, Gertrude gazed into the
immensity of space, whispering sometimes to her own soul, "How grand this
vast world-making, this frightful velocity of the giant dynamos in their
elliptical pathways through space!"

Often unable to sleep, she continued her thoughts and wondered if space
were not interlaced with electrical currents that move the earth, the
sister planets, and the myriads of suns and their planets. She thought
she saw, as never before, the necessity for an eternal existence of the
mind, if God is to be studied and known in his infinite variety.

Four years in college had developed Gertrude into a beautiful character.
Regular work in the gymnasium, much outdoor exercise, and care as to
ventilation in her rooms, especially at night, had kept her in perfect
physical health. Her intimates shared her glow of vitality, for her
presence at "Lawn, or Character Teas," at tennis-courts, or at
basket-ball always brought sunshine and enthusiasm.

The Saturday before commencement, her mother and Lucille came to enjoy
the charming festivities of Smith College. A representation of Racine's
"Athalie," with Mendelssohn's music, was the evening attraction at the
Academy of Music, which the class had rented for the occasion.

Groups of ushers, with white satin wands, conducted students in tasteful
dresses, and invited guests to their seats. When the curtain rose it was
difficult to decide which one most admired, the stage with its artistic
setting, its young faces, sweet voices, and graceful movements, or the
sympathetic audience of students and their friends. The stage and press
of the future guided in part by college-bred men and women will preach,
it is hoped, purity, truth, and the beautiful.

Mrs. Harris and Lucille were very happy that Gertrude was to graduate,
and Lucille who had just finished her education in Boston, half regretted
that she too had not entered a woman's college. Gertrude never looked
more beautiful than she did in the white-robed procession, as, on
Baccalaureate Sunday, the several classes passed down the aisles of the
church.

George Ingram had hurried to Northampton to see Gertrude graduate. She
met him at the station, and took his hand warmly in both of hers. George
had brought from New York a box of white roses for her room, and a big
bunch of the star-flower, the pretty English blue forget-me-not. He also
had in his valise a tiny case of which he made no mention to anybody.

Hundreds of young women in white walked across the campus and were massed
on the college steps for their Ivy Exercise. Never before was George so
proud of Gertrude. She and Nellie Nelson, afterwards Mrs. Eastlake, had
been chosen by the class for their beauty and sweet ways to head the
procession of the white-gowned graduates. The evening of Class-day is a
fitting close of the gay festivities at Smith College.

At the evening reception, George was introduced to many of Gertrude's
class-mates, and some of her intimate friends whispered, "Mr. Ingram and
Gertrude must be engaged! What a handsome pair they will make." George
offered his arm to Gertrude, and they walked about the campus under the
classical trees that glowed with hundreds of colored paper lanterns;
everywhere a throng of pretty happy girls with their relatives and
friends. Music by the glee clubs on the college steps, and refreshments,
closed pleasantly Gertrude's last night of college life on the beautiful
Connecticut.

She went to bed tired, but very happy. That evening her mother and sister
had left for New York, and in the morning she and George were to spend
the day at Mt. Holyoke. Twice in the night, Gertrude awoke, looked at her
watch, and longed for daylight, and then went back to dream of flowers
and music.

While she slept, warm southern breezes spread a coverlet of silver gray
mist over the homes of energy and thrift up and down the Connecticut
Valley. In the morning when Gertrude opened the blinds, and saw the fog
against the window panes and over the valley, she exclaimed, "It is too
bad, I so wanted George to drive to Mt. Holyoke to-day, and see nature at
her best! I hoped this would be the happiest day of my life."

It was a quarter to 8 o'clock when a pair of spirited black roadsters,
hitched to a buckboard, were driven in front of the hotel for George
Ingram. As he appeared on the porch he looked every inch a gentleman.
He was twenty-five years old, had received a practical education, and was
filling acceptably the important position of assistant chemist of the
Harrisville Iron & Steel Co., to which, six months before, he had been
promoted. He had fine physique, dark hair and eyes, and a military
bearing that made him the natural commander of men. His firmness,
tempered with great kindness of heart, always won for him the respect
of both men and women.

He handled the team with skill for he was a member of the driving club at
home. At a college window sat Gertrude who was eagerly watching for him,
and now she ran down the gravel walk with a sunny face, greeting her
manly lover with such sweet voice and grace, that a college girl in
passing whispered to her companion. "Look, Bessie, there are true and
handsome lovers such as we read about in novels, but seldom meet."

Gertrude insisted, since the fog was lifting, that George should hitch
his horses and for five minutes go with her up on the college tower. As
they looked out, Gertrude said, "Here, George, on the west are our half
dozen cozy college houses; on the smooth green lawn below you see our
tennis-courts, and an abundance of shade.

"Now, George, turn to the east and see how kindly the sun has removed the
mist and made for us a glorious day. How bright the colors in our flag
that floats over the high school yonder! There stands the Soldiers'
Memorial Hall, the Edwards Church with graceful spire, and across the
green meadows, with its winding stream of silver, rise the ranges of Mt.
Tom and Mt. Holyoke, outlined in curves against the blue sky."

"Beautiful!" responded George, "and yet, Gertrude, nothing in nature is
half so lovely as your own dear self." Without warning he kissed her rosy
cheek, her whole face changing to crimson as she said, "George, we must
be going."

Two happy young souls drove away from Smith College out under the Gothic
elms, where the birds were mating and building their nests. The plan for
the day was to drive to the mountain, and follow the mother and sister on
the evening express to New York. The hotel clerk had pointed out the best
road to Mt. Holyoke, and following his directions they drove southeast,
leaving behind them shady Northampton, Smith College, and delightful
memories of Jonathan Edwards, George Bancroft, and others.

A single white parasol was quite enough to protect two lovers from the
sun's rays. Circular shadows, photographs of the sun, frolicked with each
other in the roadway as gentle breezes swayed the overhanging boughs.

Milk wagons with noisy cans were returning home, herds of black and white
Holstein-Friesian cattle, famous for their yield of milk, were cropping
sweet grasses in the pastures. Farmers were guiding their cultivators and
mowing machines, while wives and daughters were shelling June peas,
hulling strawberries, and preparing for dinner. The large white houses,
with roomy barns in the shade of big elms, were the happy homes of
freemen. Gertrude wanted the horses to walk more, but George was
unwilling to take the dust of wagons returning from the market, so
he kept the horses moving at a brisk pace.

At length the Hockanum Ferry with its odd device was reached. George got
out and led the horses into the middle of the small river craft. Then the
boat was pushed off and a strong man and boy pulled at the wire rope. The
ferryman's shanty, the willows, and tangled driftwood on the shore, fast
receded, and soon the middle of the Connecticut River was reached, where
the current is swiftest. In sight were several canoes with light sails,
scudding before the wind. It seemed as if the tiny rope of the ferry
would break, but the rope is of steel wire and the boat moved slowly till
the opposite bank was reached. Gertrude held the lines, the sun shining
full in her face, and talked to the boatman, to George, and the horses,
but George said little as he was busy quieting the excited animals and
studying the primitive rope-ferry.

To the regular ferrage, Gertrude added a dime for Tim, the helper, who
watered the horses. As George was about to start his team, a twelve-year
old farm boy ran aboard the boat with a string of fine speckled trout
strung on a willow twig. All the spring the boy's anticipations for
"a day off" had now been fully realized. Since daylight the little fellow
had tramped up and down the brook, his feet were bruised and sore, and
his face and hands were bitten by mosquitos. But what of that? He had
caught a string of fine fish and was happy. Gertrude, for a silver
dollar, bought the trout, and the boy danced with joy.

It was half past eleven before the Half-way Station up the mountain was
reached, and the steep ascent to Prospect House on the top of Mt. Holyoke
was made by the car on the inclined railway. The morning ride and the
thought of a dinner of brook trout on the mountain had sharpened the
appetites of the lovers. George and Gertrude needed but a single
announcement of dinner from the clerk to make them hasten for seats at so
inviting a meal. They sat near an open window, and never did they enjoy a
dinner more. College work was now over, and on the threshold of life,
apart from the busy world in sight below, two souls could plan and
confide in each other. As the two walked the broad porch, a panorama
unfolded before them of almost unsurpassed beauty.

Charles Sumner who, in 1847, stood on Mt. Holyoke, said, "I have never
seen anything so unsurpassingly lovely as this." He had traveled through
the Highlands of Scotland, up and down the Rhine, had ascended Mont
Blanc, and stood on the Campagna in Rome. Gertrude with her college mates
had often climbed Mt. Holyoke, and she was very familiar with this
masterpiece of nature in western Massachusetts. So she described the
grand landscape to her lover who sat enchanted with the scene before him.

"This alluvial basin," she said, "is twenty miles in length and fifteen
in width, and is enclosed by the Mt. Holyoke and Mt. Tom ranges, and the
abrupt cones of Toby and Sugar Loaf, while the Green Mountains lie to the
north, whence the rich soils have been brought by thousands of vernal
floods. Grove-like masses of elms mark well the townships of Northampton,
Easthampton, Southampton and Westhampton, Hatfield, Williamsburg and
Whately, Hadley, Amherst, Leverett and Sunderland.

"In twelve miles, the Connecticut River turns four times to the east and
three times to the west, forming the famous 'Ox-Bow.'

"This beautiful river receives its life from springs in adjacent forests
and mountains, and, forcing a passage between Mt. Holyoke and Mt.
Nonotuck, flows far south into Long Island Sound. Its banks are fringed
with a tanglewood of willows, shrubs, trees, and clambering vines.
Bordering on the Connecticut River and near thrifty towns are thousands
of acres of rich meadows and arable lands, without fence, which are
interspersed with lofty trees and orchards and covered with exquisite
verdure.

"These countless farms seen from this mountain top resemble garden plots,
distinguishable from each other by vegetation varying in tints from the
dark green of the maize to the brilliant gold of barley, rye, and oats.
Over the billowy grain, cloud shadows chase each other as if in play.
Grazing herds are on every hillside and in all the valleys."

Gertrude's words were music to George's ear. Her voice and the
magnificent landscape charmed him. When released from the spell he said,
"Yes, dear, you have this day hung a never-to-be-forgotten picture in my
memory. I shall always remember the arching elms, white gables, college
towers, and spires pointing heavenward that mark the towns in this
historic and lovely intervale. I seem to hear far off sounds of busy
people, thrifty mills, and successful railways. These reveal the secret
of New England's power at home and abroad. The greatness of this people
springs from their respect for, and practice of, the virtues so long
taught in their schools and churches; viz., honesty, industry, economy,
love of liberty, and belief in God. Here can be found inspirations for
poet, painter, and sculptor."

How glorious the picture as the two young lovers looked out upon the
world of promise! It was well thus, for much too soon in life, humanity
experiences the same old story of unsatisfied ambitions and weary
struggles after the unattainable.

Thus a happy summer afternoon was enjoyed till the sun hid his face
behind the western hills. Clouds floated low on the horizon, revealing
behind the gold and purple to ambitious souls the indistinct outlines
of a gorgeous temple of fame; and birds of rich plumage among the
mountain foliage were lulled to sleep by their own sweet songs.

"Life without Gertrude," thought George, "would prove a failure." Then
taking her white hand in his, he whispered, "I love you, dearest, with
all my heart, and you must be my wife."

"George," she replied, "in a thousand ways you have shown it. I have
known your heart ever since we studied together at the high school. My
own life has been ennobled by contact with yours." Her voice and hand
trembled as she added, "Yes, George, my life and happiness I gladly
place in your sacred keeping, and I promise purity and loyalty for
eternity."

Then George opened the little case which he had brought from New York,
and gave Gertrude a ring containing two diamonds and a ruby, which
surprised and delighted her. She placed it on her first finger, saying,
"George, we will advance this crystal pledge to the third finger just
as soon as we get the consent of father and mother."

Gertrude had found on a former trip some purple crystals on the
mountainside, and had had two unique emblems of their love made in New
York City. George pinned upon Gertrude a gold star set with a purple
amethyst, a tiny cross and a guard chain being attached, and she gave
George a gold cross set with an amethyst, the guard pin being a tiny star
and chain. Before midnight the two happy lovers had joined the mother and
Lucille in New York, and at the close of the week all had returned to
Harrisville.




CHAPTER XII

THE STRIKE AT HARRISVILLE


Labor strikes are terribly disagreeable things to encounter whether in
the daily routine of steel mills and railways, or in the kitchen before
breakfast on blue Monday. Especially inconvenient are strikes in steel
mills when the order books are full as were those of the Harrisville Iron
& Steel Co. That the company had large orders could not possibly be
concealed. Vast quantities of ore, limestone, and coke were being
delivered daily at the mills. Never were more men on the pay-roll, and
all the machinery of the gigantic plant was crowded to its utmost night
and day. That business had improved was evident to everybody.

In love and war all things are fair, and the same principle, or lack of
it, seems to control most modern strikes. No doubt what young Alfonso
Harris told his mother on the steamer was true, that the labor agitators
were advised of Reuben Harris's plan to sell the steel plant to an
English syndicate. Souls of corporations decrease as the distance between
labor and capital increases, and naturally American employees oppose
foreign control of every kind.

For more than a year the employees had accepted reduced wages with the
understanding that the old scale should be restored by the company as
soon as times improved and the business warranted. That the employees had
timed their strike at an opportune moment was apparent even to stubborn
Reuben Harris. It was galling indeed to his sensitive nature and proud
spirit that his project of selling the steel plant for millions should
have failed.

As he kissed his wife good-bye on the steamer in New York, her last
words were, "Reuben, stand up for your rights." Her avaricious spirit
had always dominated him.

Before Reuben Harris left his city office for his home he had arranged,
in addition to the precaution taken by the mayor, to dispatch to the
mills and homes of his employees twenty-five special detectives in
citizens' clothes, who were to keep him fully advised as to the doings
of his employees about the mills and in their public and private
meetings. He had given his men no concessions in a previous strike which
lasted for months. He would neither recognize their unions nor their
demand for shorter hours.

It was true he had risen to be a millionaire from the humble position of
a blacksmith, but he was always severe in his own shop. Every horse must
be shod, and every tire set in his own way. He heated, hammered, and
tempered steel just as he liked, and if anybody objected he replied, "Go
elsewhere then." To have one's own way in life is often an expensive
luxury. In his first great mill strike Colonel Harris lost most of his
skilled labor and the profits of half a year. His own hands and those of
James Ingram became callous in breaking in new employees.

Gertrude had arrived on the evening of the third day of the strike, and
had busied herself in unpacking her trunk. She knew her father too well
to talk much to him about the strike. While waiting in the drawing-room
for her father, knowing that George was too busy to come to her, she had
written to her lover as follows:--

  At Home

  _My Darling George_,--

  I wish you were here safe by my side. How I hate strikes, they are so
  like a family quarrel on the front porch. Everybody looks on in pity,
  husband and wife calling each other names, and breaking the furniture,
  and innocent little children fleeing to the neighbors for protection.
  Strikes are simply horrid. Can't you stop it? Labor and capital are
  like bears in a pit with sharpened teeth tearing each other's flesh. Of
  what use is our so-called civilization if it permits such brutal
  scenes? George, the lion in father is again aroused. There is no
  telling what he will do this time.

  It was cruel of the employees to stop his sale to the English
  syndicate. Something terrible is going to happen. I feel it. I dreamed
  about it last night before I left Niagara. You must counsel moderation.
  I am so glad mother is not here to counsel severity. In the morning I
  shall put my hand on father's arm, and say, "Father, I have been
  praying for God to help you."

  I read in the _Evening Dispatch_ that the employees claimed an increase
  of their pay because promised by the company when times improved; that
  the company now flatly refused to restore the old wages; that the mayor
  of the city had sent fifty policemen to guard the mills, and that the
  4000 employees in an enthusiastic public meeting had resolved to
  continue the strike.

  George, you are in a very trying position. The company of course
  depends on your loyalty, and the employees also have great confidence
  in your fairness. What can you do? If disloyal to the Company, you lose
  your position. What more can I do, except to pray!

  Above all, my dear, be loyal to your conscience and do right. Be just.
  Come and see me at your earliest possible moment.

  Your own loving

  Gertrude.

Gertrude's brave letter reached George before ten o'clock the next
morning, and greatly cheered him. He was never more occupied, but he
snatched a moment to say in reply:

  Office of The Harrisville Iron & Steel Co.

  _Dearest Peacemaker_,--

  Glad for your heroic letter. It sings the peace-song of the angels.
  I shall be guarded in my words and actions. Good things, I hope, will
  result from all this terrible commotion. I confess I see only darkness
  ahead, save as it is pierced by the light of your love.

  We have a thousand men this morning building a fence eight feet high
  around our works. It looks like war to the knife under the present
  policy. Of course I can't say much till my opportunity comes, if it
  ever does.

  Believe me, darling Gertrude,

  Wholly yours,

  George.

The note was dispatched by special messenger. Its receipt and contents
gave comfort to Gertrude.

Colonel Harris left his breakfast table almost abruptly. One egg, a piece
of toast, and a cup of coffee were all he ate. It was an earlier meal
than usual which the Swiss cook had prepared, and by half past six
Colonel Harris started from home to his office, Gertrude from her chamber
window kissing her hand to him, saying, "Keep cool, father!"

By seven o'clock he and his capable manager were busily using the two
office telephones. Before nine o'clock, all the teams of several lumber
firms were engaged in hauling fence posts, two by four scantling, and
sufficient sixteen foot boards to construct a fence eight feet high about
the entire premises of the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co.'s plant.

This early action of the company for a time confused the strike managers,
as they could not divine whether Colonel Harris in a fit of despair
planned to fence in and close down his mills, or, perhaps, once getting
his plant enclosed, purposed to eject all members of labor organizations,
and again as in a former strike, attempt to start his plant with
non-union labor.

The leader of the strike was a brawny man with full beard, unkempt hair,
and a face far from attractive. "Captain O'Connor," as the labor lodges
knew him, was the recognized leader of the strike. He was not an employee
at the steel mills, but an expert manager of strikes, receiving a good
salary, and employed by the officers of the central union. At 2:30
o'clock a secret meeting of the officers of the several labor lodges and
Captain O'Connor was held behind closed doors. All were silent, when
suddenly O'Connor rose and began to denounce capital, charging it with
the robbery of honest labor.

"Behold labor," he said, "stripped to the waist, perspiring at every pore
in the blinding heat of molten iron, shooting out hissing sparks.
Pleasures for you laborers are banished; your wives and children are
dressed in cheap calicoes; no linen or good food on your tables, and most
of you are in debt."

This and more Captain O'Connor said in excited language. Finally he
shouted, "Slaves, will you tamely submit to all this indignity and not
resent it? The managers of the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co. are tyrants
of the worst sort. They are fencing you out to-day from the only field on
which you can gain bread for your starving wives and children.

"Reuben Harris cares more for his gold than for your souls. Since you
refuse him your labor on his own terms, he purposes by aid of the high
fence and bayonets to forbid every one of you union men from earning an
honest living."

The strike committee decided to call a public meeting of all the
employees of the steel works on the base-ball grounds at 7 o'clock
the next morning. All the saloons that night were crowded, and loud
denunciation of capital was indulged in by the strike leaders. Early the
next morning a band of music marched up and down the streets where the
employees resided, and by 7 o'clock nearly four thousand men had
gathered.

The chief spokesman was Captain O'Connor whose words evoked great
cheering. He said, "Friends, we meet this morning to strike for our
freedom. How do you like being fenced out from your work? What will your
families do for a roof when the snows come and you have no bread for your
children? We are assembled here not for talk, but for action. I hold in
my hand a resolution which we must pass. Let me read it: 'Resolved, that
we, the employees of The Harrisville Iron & Steel Co., having been driven
out of our positions by a soulless corporation which promised a return to
former wages when the times improved, will not re-engage our services to
the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co. till the promised restoration of wages
is granted." This resolution was unanimously carried, with hurrahs and
beating of the drums.

"Bravo men! Here is another resolution for your action," and Captain
O'Connor read it as follows: "American citizens! In the spirit of
brotherly love we appeal to you citizens and taxpayers of Harrisville
for fair play. Four years ago the employees of the Harrisville Iron &
Steel Co. bowed before the law, and we should continue to do so had we
not discovered that the law, the judges, and the government seem to be
for the rich alone. But we prefer liberty to slavery, and war to
starvation. Again we lay down our tools and seek to arouse public
sympathy in our behalf. Again we plead the righteousness of our cause,
and may the God of the poor help us."

This resolution was carried with shouts and the throwing up of hats. The
band began playing, and the procession headed by Captain O'Connor and his
assistants moved forward.

A third of the sober-minded of the employees soon dropped out of the
procession, while three thousand or more, many of them foreigners, were
only too glad to escape the everyday serfdom of a steel plant. All were
armed with clubs and stones. When O'Connor from the hill-top looked back
upon the mob that filled the street down into the valley and far up the
opposite hill, his courage for a moment failed him.

"What shall I do with this vast army?" he said to himself. Just then
the employees made a rush for the company's furnaces by the riverside,
filling the yards and approaches, shouting "Bank the fires! Down with
capital!"

The big engines were stopped and the furnaces were left to cool.
Frightened faces of women and children filled the door-ways and windows
of the many little brown houses on the hillside. Success emboldened the
strikers whose numbers were now greatly augmented. Again the band played
and the strike managers shouted, "Forward!"

The route taken was along an aristocratic avenue where the wealthy
resided. Windows and doors were suddenly closed, and the terrified
occupants forgot their riches, their diamonds, and their fine dress,
and thought only of safety. Vulcans of the steel works, each armed with
a club, occupied the avenue for two miles. Evidences of hunger and
vengeance were in their faces and sadly worn garments were on their
backs.

Prominent citizens now hurried to the mayor's office, where the chief
executive was found in conference with some of the labor leaders. The
mayor was told that unless he acted promptly in restoring peace and
protecting property, a citizens' committee of safety would be organized,
that he would be placed under arrest, and the mob driven back. At once
the mayor sent one hundred policemen in patrol wagons in pursuit of the
rioters. The latter had already battered down the great doors of the
screw-works, and hundreds of employees, men, women, and children, were
driven out of the factory. The president of the company was beaten into
insensibility. Adjacent nail works were ordered to close and all
employees were driven into the streets. Finally, near night, the strikers
were subdued by platoons of police and forced to return to their homes.

The mayor issued his riot act, which was printed in all the evening
papers and read as follows:

  TO THE CITIZENS OF HARRISVILLE AND THE PUBLIC GENERALLY.

  In the name of the people of the State of Ohio, I, David A. Duty, Mayor
  of the City of Harrisville, do hereby require all persons within the
  limits of the City to refrain from unnecessary assemblies in the
  streets, squares, or in public places of the City during its present
  disturbed condition, and until quiet is restored, and I hereby give
  notice that the police have been ordered, and the militia requested to
  disperse any unlawful assemblies. I exhort all persons to assist in the
  observance of this request.

  David A. Duty.

  _Mayor._

The mayor telegraphed to the governor for troops. The governor responded
promptly, and ordered the First Brigade to be in readiness, and to report
at 5 A.M. next morning in Harrisville, with rifles, cannon, Gatling and
Hotchkiss guns and ammunition. Orderlies went flying through the city
with summons that must be obeyed. The signal corps flashed their green
and red lights from the tower to distant armories. Ambulance corps
hastened their preparation, packing saws, knives, lint, and bandages.

Imperative orders from general to colonels, to majors, to captains, to
corporals tracked the militia men to their homes, and to their places
of amusement. By midnight every military organization in Harrisville was
under arms. The general with his staff was at his headquarters and ready
for action.

Before sunset Colonel Harris had his steel mills enclosed by a high
fortress-fence; many agents were dispatched to other cities to advertise
for, and contract with, skilled labor for his mills. On his way home, he
called again on the mayor, also at brigade headquarters, and satisfied
himself that his property would be protected. In forty-eight hours five
hundred new workmen had arrived, and in squads of from twenty-five to
fifty they were coming in on every train.

Colonel Harris, experienced in strikes, knew just what to do. A great
warehouse in the board enclosure was converted into barracks and supplied
with beds, and kitchens, and an old army quartermaster was placed in
charge. The new men on arrival were taken under escort of the soldiers
to the barracks, and were rapidly set to work under loyal foremen.

In a single week Colonel Harris had secured over fifteen hundred new men.
Smoke-stacks were again pouring forth huge volumes of smoke. The renewed
and familiar hum of machinery was audible beyond the high board fence.
This activity in the mills was to the old employees like a red flag
flaunted before an enraged bull. Inflammatory speeches were the order
of the hour. It was three o'clock on the eighth day of the strike, when
three thousand of the old employees left their halls and marched directly
to the steel mills. Hundreds of women and children joined the long
procession.

The strike leaders in advance carried the American flag, and their band
played the "Star Spangled Banner." Most of the men, and some of the
women, carried clubs and stones. Radicals concealed red flags and pistols
within their coats. Detectives reported by telephone the threatening
attitude of the strikers to Colonel Harris at his home, to Manager Thomas
at the mills, and to the mayor who ordered more police in patrol wagons
to proceed immediately to the steel works. Following the police rode the
Harrisville Troop, one hundred strong. Gertrude would not let her father
go to the steel plant, so he sat by the telephone in his own house.

Captain Crager in charge of the fifty police on guard in and around the
steel plant at once concentrated his force at the great gateway leading
into the fenced enclosure. His men were formed in three platoons, the
reserve platoon being stationed fifty feet in the rear. Captain Crager
himself took position in the center of the first line. He had time only
for a few words to his men. "The city expects each policeman to do his
duty. No one is to use his revolver till he sees me use mine. Stand
shoulder to shoulder, use your clubs, and defend the gateway."

Probably not one of his fifty men had ever read of the 300 Spartan heroes
at Thermopylæ, who for three days held at bay the Persian army of five
millions. To pit fifty policemen against three thousand enraged strikers
was too great odds. Captain Crager's orders were "to defend the
property of the steel company." The reserve police force and troops en
route might or might not reach him in time. The strikers purposed driving
out of the mills all the non-union men, and taking possession. Nearer
came the mob, determined to rule or ruin, O'Connor in the lead holding
the Stars and Stripes. The last fifty feet of approach to the gateway,
the mob planned to cover by a rush. On they came swinging their clubs
and filling the air with stones.

Captain Crager and his platoons used their short iron-wood clubs
vigorously. The strikers' flag was captured. O'Connor fell bleeding.
Right and left, heads and limbs were broken. Women screamed and strong
men turned pale. The whole mob was soon stampeded and the rioters fled
like animals before a prairie fire. Those strikers who looked back saw
the approach of more patrol wagons loaded with police, heard the clatter
of horses' hoofs, and the heavy rumbling of artillery, and they knew that
the city's reserve forces had arrived. A battery of Gatling guns at once
wheeled into a strategic position. The police and troop occupied points
of advantage, and soon the victory was complete.

Within thirty days over four thousand employees, mostly new men, were at
work in the steel mills. Policemen and detectives, however, were still
kept on duty. Colonel Harris was frequently congratulated on his second
triumph, and orders for steel rails were again being rapidly filled.

Most of the strike leaders left the city, some threatening dire revenge.
Many of the employees, who had lost their situations, were already
searching for work elsewhere. All who were behind in their payments of
rents due the company, were served with notices of evictment, as the
tenements were needed for the new employees. Wives and children were
crying for bread. In sixty days labor had lost by the strike over two
hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and capital even more.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was in August. The moon had set beyond the blue lake, and the myriad
lights of heaven were hung out, as George and Gertrude alighted from
their carriage in front of Colonel Harris's residence. They had been to
the Grand Opera House, where they had witnessed Shakespeare's "Midsummer
Night's Dream," beautifully played by Julia Marlowe and her company.
Between the acts, George and Gertrude talked much of the strike, of labor
troubles in general, and earnestly discussed the possible remedies.

Reuben Harris, who had awaited their return, hearing the carriage drive
up, extended a cordial welcome. His hand was on the knob of the front
door, which stood half open, when the sky above the steel mills suddenly
became illuminated and deafening reports of explosions followed. The
door, held by Harris, was slammed by the concussion against the wall, the
glass in the windows rattled on the floor, the ground trembled, Harris
seized George's arm for support, and Gertrude's face was blanched with
fear. Fire and smoke in great volumes were now seen rising above the
steel plant.

George ran to the telephone, but before he could shout "Exchange," a call
came for Colonel Harris from his night superintendent, who announced that
the engines and batteries of boilers had been blown up, and that all the
mills were on fire. The chief of police telephoned that he had sent one
hundred more police to the mills; the chief of the fire department
telephoned that ten steamers had been dispatched. George dropped the
telephone, kissed Gertrude, and on the back of her Kentucky saddle horse
flew into the darkness to direct matters at the mills as best he could.

The next morning's _Dispatch_ contained two full pages, headed,

  "The Deadly Dynamite!

  Frightful Loss of Life,
          and
  Destruction of Property
          at
  The Harrisville Iron & Steel Plant.

  "One hundred employees were killed outright, and hundreds more were
  wounded. All the mills were either burned or wrecked. Many women and
  children were also injured. Five hundred tenement houses were damaged,
  and the windows of most of the buildings within a half mile of the
  mills were badly broken."

Next morning the citizens of Harrisville were wild with excitement.
Ringing editorials appeared in all the morning and evening journals
declaring that "Lawlessness is anarchy," and that "Law and order must
prevail."




CHAPTER XIII

TRIAL OF ANARCHY AND RESULTS


George Ingram had scarcely disappeared in the darkness, when Colonel
Harris fully comprehending the terrible situation at his works telephoned
the exchange to summon at once to his mills every physician and ambulance
in the city.

The Colonel then ordered his carriage, and taking Gertrude, rapidly
drove to the scene of the disaster. Great crowds had gathered, but the
policemen, and the Harrisville Troop, already had established lines about
the burning steel mills, beyond which the people were not permitted to
pass. The police and fire departments were doing all in their power to
save life and property.

Colonel Harris drove directly towards his office at the mills, but this
he could not reach as policemen guarded every approach. The two story
brick office had been completely wrecked by a huge piece of one of the
fly-wheels, that had fallen through the roof.

The night watchman whose duty it was to enter the office hourly was
killed, and his bleeding body was now being moved to a temporary morgue,
which had been established in an adjoining old town-hall. Already over
fifty mangled forms had been brought in and laid in rows on the floor,
and more dead workmen were arriving every moment.

The mayor and Colonel Harris were everywhere directing what to do. Scores
of the wounded were hurried in ambulances to a large Catholic Church, an
improvised hospital. Here were sent physicians, volunteer nurses, beds,
and blankets. Fortunately the seats in the church, being movable, were
quickly carried into the streets, and on beds and blankets the suffering
men were placed, and an examination of each wounded person was being
made. Names and addresses were taken by the reporters, and ambulances
began to remove the severely injured to the city hospitals.

Colonel Harris left Gertrude to minister to the wounded in the church,
and sought out Wilson his manager, and George Ingram. Everybody worked
till daylight. Many wounded and dead men, and women and children were
brought up to the morgue and hospitals from the wrecked tenements that
stood near the exploded mills. Several bodies of the dead workmen, and
the wounded who could not escape from the burning works were consumed.
When the sun rose on that dreadful scene, thousands of workmen and their
families and tens of thousands of sympathizers witnessed in silence the
awful work of anarchists. At daylight Colonel Harris rode with George and
Gertrude home to breakfast.

In the evening press a call for a public meeting at 8 o'clock next
morning of the prominent citizens resulted in the forming of an emergency
committee of one hundred earnest men and women to furnish aid to the
afflicted and needy work-people. The most influential people of
Harrisville were enrolled on this committee, which to be more thoroughly
effective was subdivided. Every house occupied by the mill-people was
visited, and every injured person was cared for.

The women on the committee visited the hospitals and for a time became
nurses ministering to every want. Money and abundance of food were also
contributed, and such kindness on the part of the rich the work-people
had never known before.

The evening papers gave the authoritative statement that the total
number of those killed outright by the explosions at the steel mills was
one hundred and twenty-seven. Of this number eighty-six were workmen,
fourteen were men who lived in the vicinity, but were not employed in the
mills, ten were women, and seventeen were children. The total number of
wounded was sixty-eight.

A public funeral was decided upon by the committee. The Harrisville Iron
& Steel Co. sent their check for $5000 to the committee and many others
contributed money. The time fixed for the public services was Sunday at 2
o'clock. Ten separate platforms for the clergy and church choirs of the
city had been erected on the same open fields where the great strike
meetings had so often been held. By 1 o'clock people began to assemble.
Workmen came from all parts of the city, till over fifty thousand
laborers with their wives were on the ground. Most wore black crepe on
their arm.

Fifteen minutes before 2 o'clock solemn band music gave notice to the
crowd of the approach of an imposing procession. Platoons of police led
the column who were followed in carriages by the mayor, his cabinet, and
the city council; then another platoon of police, followed by a long line
of hearses, the black plumes of which seemed to wave in unison with the
solemn tread of over a thousand workmen, acting as pall-bearers, walking
in double file on either side of their dead comrades.

It was some moments before the speaking could begin. By concerted action
all the clergy preached on the "Brotherhood of Mankind," the text used
being, John XV.-12. "This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as
I have loved you." The speakers were moved by the Holy Spirit. The
services closed with the hymn, "Nearer my God to Thee."

The funeral procession was several miles in length. Public and private
buildings along the route to the cemetery were draped with the emblems of
mourning. Twenty-five of the bodies were given private burial. Over one
hundred of the victims of the dynamite disaster were buried in one common
grave. Together they had died, and together they were buried. The mantle
of charity covered them.

Soon after the funeral, the press contained an account of a great meeting
held by the surviving workmen of the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co., and of
resolutions that were unanimously adopted:--

"Resolved, That we, the surviving workmen of the Harrisville
Iron & Steel Co., hereby desire to express our deep sympathy with the
bereaved families of our late comrades in toil.

"That further we desire to contribute from the pay-roll due us the wages
received for two days' services, the same to be paid to the emergency
committee, one-half the proceeds of which is to apply to the relief of
the bereaved workmen's families, the balance to be used for the purpose
of erecting suitable monuments over the graves of our unfortunate
comrades.

"Resolved, That we, employees of the Harrisville Iron & Steel
Co., extend our sympathy to the company in their great financial loss.

"That we hereby declare ourselves as law-abiding citizens, and that we
neither directly, nor indirectly, were connected in any manner with the
late dynamite explosions and fires which destroyed the plant of The
Harrisville Iron & Steel Co., and we denounce those acts as dastardly
and inimical to the best interest of labor and civilization."

Following the resolutions were appended the signatures of over four
thousand workmen. It was also voted that the resolutions, and names
attached, should be printed in the press of the city, and that a copy
should be delivered to the president of the steel company. This action
freed the atmosphere of distrust, and business in Harrisville returned
to its accustomed ways.

At a meeting of the directors of the Harrisville Iron & Steel Co. it
was voted "Not to rebuild our mills at present." Manager Wilson was
instructed at once to so advise the employees, also to dispose of all the
manufactured stock and raw material on hand, and to clean up the grounds
of the old mill site.

Colonel Harris remembered the action of Herr Krupp of Germany when a
letter once reached him, threatening to destroy with dynamite his vast
works at Essing. Herr Krupp immediately called a meeting of his tens of
thousands of workmen, and read the letter to them, and then said,
"Workmen, if this threat is executed, I shall never rebuild." This
settled the matter.

The city council of Harrisville and the county commissioners offered
rewards for the arrest and conviction of the dynamiters. The sum was
increased to $10,000 by the steel company, and notices of these rewards
were mailed far and wide.

By aid of an informer of the band of conspirators, Mike O'Connor and
his confederates were arrested as they were about to embark for South
America. In the hotly contested trial it was disclosed that O'Connor had
directed the placing of dynamite beneath engines and boilers before the
high board fence was constructed about the works, that electric wires to
ignite the dynamite had been laid underground from the mills to an old
unused barn, nearly half a mile distant, and that O'Connor was seen to
come from the barn just after the explosion. Within two months after the
arrest, the whole band were convicted and sentenced for life to hard
labor in the penitentiary.

It was decided that Colonel Harris and Gertrude should soon sail to
rejoin Mrs. Harris and party in England, and notice of this decision was
cabled next day to them at London. The colonel was busy examining
carefully George Ingram's detailed drawings of a new, enlarged, and
much improved plan for a huge steel plant. The improvements were to be up
to date, and his plans involved an entirely new process of converting
ores into steel. It was agreed that George and his father, James Ingram,
should perfect their inventions on which both for a long time had been
zealously at work, and that later George and the colonel should make a
tour of observation of leading iron and steel works in Europe.

Gertrude was now very happy. The selled together, concerning the proper
relations of capital and labor, and since the explosion they studied the
question more earnestly than ever. Their scheme involved not only
improved works in a new location, but also a plan to harmonize, if
possible, capital and labor, which they hoped might work great good to
humanity. Gertrude told George Ingram that his golden opportunity had
come, and she resolved to render him all the assistance possible.




CHAPTER XIV

COLONEL HARRIS FOLLOWS HIS FAMILY ABROAD


Gertrude's receipt for growing oranges in a northern climate was as
follows: Let a child hold a large and a small orange in her hands, and
give away the large orange, and the smaller will begin to grow until,
when eaten, it will look bigger and taste sweeter than the large fruit
given away. "Try it!" Gertrude often said.

That was the principle by which Gertrude Harris was always acting. If she
had flowers, fruit, books, pretty gifts, or money, her first thought
always was, "How can I make somebody happy?" With such a generous soul,
part nature's gift and part acquired by self-sacrifice, the life of
Gertrude was as buoyant and happy as the birds in a flower garden.

The decision of Gertrude's father to take her and meet his family in
Europe was not known in Harrisville except to a few. Most of the
colonel's friends supposed that he was busy planning some new business
adventure, in which he might employ his surplus capital and his undoubted
business abilities. Because of the recent calamity, and the hardships of
the employees in connection with their strike, he thought it unwise to
make public mention of his future projects.

The more Gertrude meditated upon her father's plan, the more dissatisfied
with herself she became. The idea of going to Europe and leaving George
behind was unendurable. He needed rest more than she. True, he was to
follow later, but she wanted him to cross the ocean on the same steamer,
and she earnestly desired that the one she loved best should share all of
her enjoyments. It was, perhaps, a test of her love that she constantly
longed to lose herself in him, or better, possibly, to find herself in
him.

Two days before the date fixed for their sailing, as George left the
Harris home, Gertrude was urging him to accompany her and her father,
when he ventured to say, "Gertrude, this is what would please me
immensely, take my sister May with you. I will gladly pay her expenses.
And when your summer's travel is over, I want May to study music abroad."

"Capital!" said Gertrude. "Both you and your sister May shall join our
party. Please don't say another word on the subject, nor tell father,
till we meet tomorrow evening," and she kissed him an affectionate
good-night.

The next evening before the stars shone; Gertrude sat on the piazza
anxiously awaiting him, for she had good news for her lover. Gertrude's
white handkerchief told him that she recognized his coming, though he was
still two blocks away. How light and swift the steps of a lover; though
miles intervene, they seem but a step. An evening in Gertrude's presence
was for George but a moment. The touch of her hand, the rustle of her
dress, and the music of her voice, all, like invisible silken cords, held
him a willing prisoner. The love he gave and the love he received was
like the mating of birds; like the meeting of long separated and finally
united souls.

"George, this is your birthday and the silver crescent moon is filled to
the brim with happiness for you and May. Yesterday I had a long talk with
father, and I asked him to let me stay at home and to take your sister
May to Europe. What do you think he said, George? Never did my father so
correctly read my heart. He drew me closely to him, and while I sat upon
his knee, said: 'Daughter, I have decided that it is wise, even in the
interests of my business, to take George with us.' He also said that I
might invite your sister May to go, and that he would pay all the
expenses. Oh, how I kissed him! I never loved my father so much before.
Here, George, is a kiss for you. Aren't you glad now, that you, and your
sister May are going with us? No excuses, for you are both going surely."

"If it is settled, Gertrude, then it is settled, I suppose, but how do
you think May and I can get ready in so short a time to go to Europe?"

"Well, George, you can wear your new business suit, and in the morning, I
will go with May and buy for her a suitable travelling dress and hat. In
Europe we can procure more clothes as they are needed."

Gertrude was now very happy. The dream of her life was to be realized.
She wanted George near her as she traveled, so each could say to
the other, "Isn't it beautiful?" That is half of the pleasure of
sight-seeing. The small orange kept by Gertrude had doubled in size,
and she never before retired with so sweet a joy in her soul. That night
she slept, and her dreams were of smooth seas, her mother, Lucille, and
George.

It is needless to say that May Ingram was overjoyed. She had been fond of
music from her childhood, and had given promise of rare talents. She had
taken lessons for two years in vocal and instrumental music in the best
conservatories in Boston, George paying most of her expenses. For six
years May had been the soprano singer in the highest paid quartette in
Harrisville. Though she occasionally hoped for a musical education
abroad, yet these hopes had all flown away. Her parents could not aid
her, and she had resolved not to accept further assistance from her
generous brother. At first she could not believe what George told her,
but when the reality of her good fortune dawned upon her, taking George's
hand in both of hers, she pressed it to her lips and fell upon his
shoulder, her eyes flooding with tears.

"Well, May," said George, as he kissed her, "can you get ready by noon
tomorrow?"

"Ready by noon? Ready by daylight, George, if necessary."

That night was a busy, happy time for the Ingrams. So much of ill-luck
had come to the father, and so much of household drudging to the faithful
mother, that work and sacrifice for the children had ploughed deep
furrows across the faces of both Mr. and Mrs. Ingram. Opportunities for
advancement now opening for their children, both parents found the heavy
burdens growing lighter.

Before sunrise George and May had packed two small trunks, by ten o'clock
Gertrude and May had made necessary purchases, and the two o'clock
express quickly bore the second contingent of the Harris family towards
New York, which was reached the night before their steamer's date of
sailing.

For some reason, perhaps because the elements of superstition still
lurked in the mind of Colonel Harris, he decided not to stop any more at
the Hotel Waldorf. It had brought him ill-luck, so his party was driven
to the tall Hotel Plazza which overlooks the Central Park.

Fortunately George had inherited a talent for untiring investigation
and the power of close observation. His reasoning faculties also were
excellent. Besides his education, gained in a practical school at Troy,
George, with, his father, James Ingram, had made many experiments,
mostly after business hours; each experiment was numbered and the various
results had been carefully noted. Before leaving Harrisville his
investigations were all drifting towards great possible changes in the
production of iron and steel. He was glad to take this trip to Europe,
as it might afford him opportunity to verify or change some of his
conclusions. He resolved to use every moment for the enlargement of his
powers.

After bidding May and Gertrude good-night, he told the colonel that he
should now take the Elevated Railway for the steamer "Campania," as he
wished to observe at midnight the firing of the great battery of boilers
of the steamer; and that he would return in time for breakfast with the
party. "Let eight o'clock then be the hour, George," and the capitalist
and his trusted superintendent separated for the night.

The elevated railway was not swift enough to carry George Ingram to Pier
No. 40, so anxious was he to see the midnight fires started in the
hundred furnaces of one of the two largest steamers afloat. It was
fifteen minutes to twelve o'clock when he reached the dock, and provided
with a letter of introduction to the chief engineer, he hurried as fast
as possible to the officer's cabin.

The young engineer's night ashore had been spent at the opera, and,
advised of George Ingram's visit, he had promptly returned to the
steamer. Mr. Carl Siemens, engineer, was a relative of Siemens Brothers
& Co., Limited, the great electrical and telegraph engineers of London.
His education had been thorough, and he was very proud of his steamer the
"Campania," especially of the motive power, which he helped to design. He
gave young Ingram a cordial greeting.

For two hours they examined and talked of mechanism for ships and mills,
and they even ventured to guess what the earth's motive power might be.
It was now five minutes of midnight. The chief furnished Ingram an
oversuit and the young engineers dropped through manholes and down
vertical and spiral ladders into the cellar of the steamer, the bottom of
which was thirty feet below the water level.

"The 'Campania,'" said Siemens, "has a strong double bottom that
forms a series of water-tight compartments which, filled with water,
furnish ballast when necessary. On the second steel or false bottom
of the steamer, fore and aft, are located the boilers, furnaces,
and coal-bunkers. We have fourteen double-ended boilers, fitted
longitudinally in two groups, in two water-tight compartments, and
separated by huge coal-bunkers. Each boiler is eighteen feet in diameter
and seventeen feet long. The thickness of the steel boilerplate is
1-17/32 inches. Above each group of boilers rises 130 feet in height a
funnel nineteen feet in diameter, which, if a tunnel, would easily admit
the passage of two railway trains abreast."

George saw the fires lighted, and when the furnaces required more coal,
suddenly a whistle brought fifty stokers or firemen, the automatic
furnace doors flew open, and a gleam of light flooded everything. Long
lances made draft-holes in the banks of burning coal, through which the
air was sucked with increasing roar. The round, red mouths of the hundred
craters snapped their jaws for coal, which was fed them by brawny men
whose faces were streaked with grimy perspiration, and their bodies
almost overcome by heat. The hundred furnaces are kept at almost white
heat from New York to Liverpool.

"Four hours on, and four hours off, and the best quality of food are some
of the recent improvements," said Siemens.

George Ingram shook his head, and his heart ached as he witnessed the
stokers, and resolved to do his utmost to mitigate the hardships of
labor. "What are the duties of the stokers?" inquired George.

"Our stokers," replied Siemens, "must be men of strength and skill, for
they both feed and rake the fires. The ashes and slag must be hoisted and
dumped into the ocean, and twice an hour, as the gauges indicate, fresh
water is let into the boilers. Daily the boilers convert into steam over
a hundred tons of water, which, condensed, is used over and over again."

"What quantity of coal do you use?"

"About three hundred tons per day, or an average of nearly two thousand
tons per voyage. The coal carrying capacity of the "Campania," however,
when needed as an armed cruiser, can be greatly increased."

Siemens led Ingram to see the gigantic cranks, and propeller shafts. Each
of the several cranks is twenty-six inches in diameter and weighs 110
tons; the shafts made of toughest steel are each twenty-four inches in
diameter, and each weighs over 150 tons. The propellers are made of steel
and bronze, and each of the six blades of the two screws weighs eight
tons. It was now past two o'clock and George thanked Mr. Siemens and said
he should be pleased to examine further his department when at sea. It
was past three o'clock when George turned off his gas at the hotel.

At eight o'clock the next morning the Harrises met promptly at breakfast.
Promptness was one of Reuben Harris's virtues, and fortunately all his
party were agreed as to its absolute necessity, especially when several
journey together, if the happiness of all is considered.

"George's eyes look like burnt holes," whispered May to Gertrude.

Overhearing his sister's remark, George added: "Yes, May, and they feel
worse after my two hours last night in the stokehole of the 'Campania.'"

"We thought after our long railway ride and the concert yesterday, that
you would gladly welcome a little sleep," said Gertrude.

"I did sleep four hours, Gertrude, but my owl-visit to the steamer was
highly instructive, and when we get to sea, you all will be delighted to
help me complete the study of the marine engines on the 'Campania.'"




CHAPTER XV

A SAFE PASSAGE AND A HAPPY REUNION


Gertrude and May never knew what happiness was before. One maiden had her
lover, and the heart of the other was pledged to music. George too was
happy in Gertrude's happiness and joyous in his own thoughts that perhaps
he had already entered upon his life work, the development of plans which
would bless humanity. Colonel Harris's chief joy was that he had earned a
rest, was soon to see the absent members of his family, and to behold the
work of men in Europe.

People crowded the gangway, the same as on a previous occasion when duty
forced him suddenly to leave the "Majestic." It was almost two o'clock;
visitors were no longer admitted to the steamer, except messengers with
belated telegrams, mail, packages, and flowers for the travelers. On
the bridge of the "Campania" stood the uniformed captain and junior
officers. The chief officer was at the bow, the second officer aft. The
captain, notified that all was ready, gave the command, "Let go!" and the
cables were unfastened. The engineer started the baby-engine, which
partially opens the great throttle-valves, the twin-screws began to
revolve, and the "Campania," like an awakened leviathan slowly moved into
the Hudson River. Hundreds on both the pier and steamer fluttered their
handkerchiefs, and through a mist of tears good-byes were exchanged,
till the increasing distance separated the dearest of friends.

For twenty-four hours George Ingram was seen but little on deck. Most of
his time he spent with Carl Siemen, the engineer. The colonel took great
delight as the escort of two appreciative young ladies. Before the voyage
ended every available part of the "Campania" was explored.

Gertrude was surprised to find an engineer so cultivated a gentleman. He
was surrounded in his oak-furnished office by soft couches, easy chairs,
works of art, burnished indicators and dials. Mr. Siemen received his
orders from the captain or officer on the bridge by telegraph.

"It's mere child's play," said May, "and as easy as touching the keys of
a great organ."

Mr. Siemen now conducted his friends into the engine-room. "It is not
easy to imagine the tremendous force of the two swiftly turning screws or
propellers exerted against the surging waters of the Atlantic," he said.
"Our 30,000 horse power engines, a horse power is equal to six men, equal
180,000 strong men pulling at the oars, or twice the number of men that
fought at Gettysburg to perpetuate the American Union."

"Wonderful!" said Colonel Harris.

"Steam guided by command of the officer on the bridge, with slightest
effort, also steers our immense steamer."

"Mr. Siemen, tell us please how the steamer is lighted?" said George.

"We have fifty miles of insulated wire in the "Campania" for the electric
current generated by our two dynamos, which give us 1350 sixteen-candle
power lights, equal to a total of 22,000 candle power, absorbing 135
horse-power. We also use large electric reflectors and search lights to
pick up buoys on a dark night. All our machinery is in duplicate.

"At night when the broad clean decks of hardwood are illuminated with
electric lights and filled with gay promenaders, you easily imagine that
you are strolling along Broadway."

The accommodations and appointments of staterooms, of all the large
public rooms, and especially the dining-room, are perfect. A week on the
Atlantic, with the joyous bracing sea-air of the summer months, and
surrounded as you are by a cosmopolitan group of people, passes as
delightfully as a brief stay at the ocean side.

The passage of the "Campania" from Sandy Hook Light to Queenstown was
made in less than five and one-half days, 5 days, 10 hours, and 47
minutes, or at an average speed of 21.82 knots per hour, the highest
day's run being 548 knots. At Queenstown Colonel Harris received
telegrams and letters from his family saying that they would meet him at
Leamington, and that Alfonso would meet his father at Liverpool.

Reuben Harris wired his wife when his party expected to arrive. It was
ten o'clock in the morning when the S.S. "Campania" arrived in the Mersey
off Alexandra dock, and the company's tender promptly delivered the
passengers on the Liverpool Landing Stage.

Gertrude was first to single out Alfonso, whose handkerchief waved a
brother's welcome to the old world. Alfonso was the first to cross the
gangway to the tender, and rushed to his friends. The greeting was
mutually cordial. The father embraced his boy, for he loved him much and
still cherished a secret hope that his only son might yet turn his mind
to business. Alfonso seemed specially pleased that George and his sister
May had come, for he had frequently met May Ingram and her singing had
often charmed him.

May was about his own age. As Alfonso helped her down the gangway to the
deck, he thought he had never seen her look so pretty. She was about the
size of his sister Lucille; slender, erect, and in her movements she was
as graceful as the swaying willows. May's face was oval like that of
her English mother. She had an abundance of brown hair, her eyes were
brilliant, and her complexion, bronzed by the sea-breezes, had a pink
under-coloring that increased her beauty. If Alfonso's eyes were fixed on
her a moment longer than custom allows, perhaps he was excusable, for
portrait painting was his hobby, and he fancied that he knew a beautiful
face.

Alfonso was all attention to his friends in clearing the baggage through
the customs and getting checks for Leamington. After lunch, at the fine
railway hotel, the two o'clock express from Lime Street station was
taken, and Colonel Harris and party became loud in their praises of John
Bull's Island, as they sped on, via Coventry with her three tall spires,
to the fashionable Spa, where the Harris family were again to be
reunited. It was six o'clock when Alfonso alighted on the platform.
"Here they are, mother, I have brought them all; father, Gertrude,
George, and May."

The Leamington meeting was a happy one. The sorrow of separation is often
compensated by the joys of reunion. Mrs. Harris embraced her husband as
if he had returned a hero from the wars. In fact, he had emerged from a
conflict that brought neither peace nor honor to capital or labor.

Lucille too was enthusiastic. She, who was haughty, rarely responsive,
and often proud of her father's wealth, for the time assumed another
character and warmly welcomed her sister Gertrude and Gertrude's intended
husband as "brother George." Leo too was glad to make new acquaintances.
Eight joyous people attracted the attention of many at the station.

Fortunately, the next day was Sunday, which gave time for rest, for
review of the past few exciting weeks, and for the development of future
plans of travel. Much was told of the Harris trip through Ireland and of
the last week spent in the south of England.

Lucille described to Gertrude and May Stonehenge, hanging stones,--the
wonder of Salisbury Plain, where stand the ruins of the Druid
temple--three circles of upright moss-grown stones with flat slabs across
their tops, in which it is supposed the sun was worshiped with human
sacrifices. Many burial mounds are scattered about. A broad driveway, a
mile in extent, surrounds the temple, where possibly great processions
came to witness the gorgeous displays. In early Britain the Druid priests
held absolute sway over the destinies of souls. These priests were
finally overpowered by the Romans, and some of them burned upon their own
altars.

"But, Lucille, you wrote that you planned to visit Osborne House."

"Yes, dear, we did go to the Isle of Wight, and saw Osborne House, Queen
Victoria's home by the sea, as Balmoral is her summer home among the
mountains of Scotland. Her Majesty's palace is surrounded by terraced
gardens, nearly five thousand acres of forests, pastures, and fertile
meadows. Osborne House is furnished with much magnificence, mosaic
flooring, costly marbles, statuary, paintings, books, and art souvenirs.

"There the queen and Prince Albert painted, sang, and read together.
Those were happy days indeed for the young rulers of a kingdom. Each of
their children had a garden. The Prince of Wales worked in a carpenter's
shop, and the royal princesses learned housework in a kitchen and dairy
prepared for them." This was a revelation to Lucille, who had been reared
with little or nothing to do.

Lucille told Gertrude and May that she had just been reading the early
life of the queen, who said, "If one's home is happy, then trials and
vexations are comparatively nothing." The queen also said, "Children
should be brought up simply and learn to put the greatest confidence
in their parents." Lucille continued, "The queen often visited her
people, bringing toys for the children--a promise to a child she never
forgets--and gifts of warm clothing for the aged, to their great
delight."

At a conference of the Harris family, it was decided to go to London
after spending Monday in a carriage drive to Warwick and Kenilworth
castles and Stratford-on-Avon. So Monday promptly at eight o'clock
two carriages stood waiting at the hotel. Colonel Harris took Mrs.
Harris, May Ingram, and Alfonso with him, and George Ingram took
Gertrude, Lucille, and Leo in the second carriage.

There are few, if any, more magnificent drives in England than the one
through the beautiful Stratford district. It is recorded that two
Englishmen once laid a wager as to the finest walk in England.
One named the walk from Coventry to Stratford, the other from Stratford
to Coventry.

It was a delightful day and both the colonel and George entirely forgot
business in their enjoyment of the loveliest country they had ever seen.
A drive of two miles, from Leamington and along the banks of the historic
Avon, brought them to Warwick Castle which Scott calls "The fairest
monument of ancient and chivalrous splendor uninjured by the tooth of
time." It is said that Warwick Castle was never taken by any foe in days
gone by.

Our visitors drove over the draw-bridge through a gateway covered with
ivy, and still guarded as of old, by an ancient portcullis. In the hall
of the castle, pannelled with richly carved oak, are religiously guarded
the helmet of Cromwell, the armor of the Black Prince, and many historic
relics and art treasures. The drawing-room is finished in cedar. In
former days guests were summoned to the great banqueting hall by a blare
of trumpets. In the gardens is seen the celebrated white marble Warwick
vase from Adrian's villa. Interwoven vines form the handles, and leaves
and grapes adorn the margin of the vase. Superb views were had from the
castle towers. In the Beauchamp chapel in the old town of Warwick repose
the remains of Dudley, Earl of Leicester, one of Queen Elizabeth's
favorites. She gave Leicester beautiful Kenilworth Castle, which is five
miles distant.

As the carriages drove over the smooth road, beneath the venerable elms
and sycamores, artists along the way were sketching. Both Alfonso and Leo
tipped their hats, as members of a guild that recognizes art for art's
sake, a society that takes cognizance of neither nationality nor sect.

Gertrude and George had read Scott's novel in which he tells of the
ancient glories of Kenilworth, which dates back to the twelfth century,
and to-day is considered the most beautiful ruin in the world. Ivy mantles
the lofty ruined walls; the sun tinges in silver the gray old towers, and
sends a flood of golden light through the deep windows of the once
magnificent banqueting hall.

For years Kenilworth Castle was a royal residence, and later it was
the scene of bloody conflicts between kings and nobles. Today sheep
peacefully graze within the ruins and about the grounds. Visitors from
all parts of the world look in wonder upon the decay of glories that once
dazzled all Europe. Here the earl of Leicester entertained his virgin
queen hoping to marry her. As Elizabeth crossed the draw-bridge a song in
her praise was sung by a Lady of the Lake on an island floating in the
moat. Story writers have never tired of telling of the magnificence of
these entertainments that cost the ambitious earl $20,000 per day for
nineteen days.

Returning, Warwick Arms Hotel was reached for lunch, after which the
party drove eight miles to Stratford-on-Avon, a model town on the classic
Avon. Here in Henley Street, in a half-timbered house recently carefully
restored, Shakespeare was born. The walls and window panes are covered
with the names of visitors, while inside are kept albums for the
autographs of kings, queens, of Scott, Byron, Irving, and others. One
of the three rooms below is an ancient kitchen, where by the big open
chimney the poet often sat. Climbing a winding, wooden stairway,
George and Gertrude in the lead, our Harrisville friends entered the
old-fashioned chamber, where, it is said, on St. George's Day, April 19,
1564, William Shakespeare was born. A bust of the poet stands on the
table.

"We know little of his mother," said Gertrude, "except that she had a
beautiful name, Mary Arden. If it is true, as a rule, that all great men
have had great mothers, Mary Arden must have been a very superior woman."

"The reverse, Gertrude, must be equally true," said George, "that all
great women must have had great fathers."

Gertrude who had made a special study of Shakespeare and his works did
much of the talking. She said, "All that is definitely known of the life
of the great poet can be put on half a page. It is thought that William
was the son of a well-to-do farmer who lost his property. William, not
above work, assisted his father as butcher, then taught school, and later
served as a lawyer's clerk. When he was eighteen, like most young people,
he fell in love."

Saying this, Gertrude led to the street, and the party drove to Shottery,
a pretty village a mile away, where is Ann Hathaway's thatched cottage.
"Here the beardless William often came," said Gertrude, "and told his
love to the English maiden. Ann Hathaway was older than William, she was
twenty-six, but they were married, and had three children.

"When Shakespeare was twenty-five he was part owner of the Blackfriar's
Theatre in London. There he spent his literary life, and there he was
actor, dramatist, and manager. He became rich and returned occasionally
to Stratford where he bought lands and built houses.

"If we can trust statues and paintings and writers, William Shakespeare
had a kingly physique, light hazel eyes and auburn hair."

"What about his death?" inquired Colonel Harris.

"Of his death," said Gertrude, "we know little, save that the Vicar of
Stratford wrote that Shakespeare, Drayton, and Ben Johnson had a merry
meeting, possibly drank too much, and that Shakespeare died of a fever
then contracted, on the anniversary of his birth, when he was fifty-two
years old."

"And where was he buried?" inquired Lucille.

"In the Stratford church," answered Gertrude, and the carriages were
driven up an avenue of arching lime trees. The old church, with its tall
and graceful spire, reflected in the waters of the Avon, is a restful
place for the body that contains the mightiest voice in literature. Near
by also lie buried his wife and their children. A plain slab in the floor
covers his remains.

Recently a new grave was dug near Shakespeare's and the intervening wall
fell in. A workman ventured to hold a lighted taper in death's chamber,
which revealed that the ashes of the immortal Shakespeare could be held
in the palm of the hand. The Harris party drove back to Leamington to
spend the night.




CHAPTER XVI

A SEARCH FOR IDEAS


Later on the Harrises spent considerable time in London staying at the
Grand Hotel which occupies the site of the old Northumberland House on
Trafalgar Square. They soon learned that the English matrons are devoted
mothers, that they take long walks, dress their children simply, and that
their daughters have fair complexions, are modest in manner, and are the
pictures of health.

Many of the English women find time to study national questions, to
organize "Primrose" and "Liberal Leagues," and to vote on municipal
affairs. Miss Helen Taylor and other cultivated women have been elected
members of the London school board, and aided in temperance reform.

While Alfonso, Leo, Lucille, and May were absent studying the artistic
life of the metropolis, Mr. and Mrs. Harris, Gertrude, and George spent
most of the day planning for the future. Reuben Harris and his wife had
repeatedly talked over the Harrisville affair, and their trips in London
where so many generations had lived and passed away had given both
clearer ideas of life.

"At best," thought the colonel, "life seems short indeed." More than once
he admitted to his wife that his early privations had made his life in
Harrisville selfish and inconsiderate, that the questions of higher
civilization were involved in the vigorous efforts of humanity for a
closer brotherhood, and that if God permitted him he would lend a helping
hand.

Mrs. Harris, naturally proud, was slow to respond to the colonel's new
ideas, but he felt that under Gertrude's generous influences his wife
would prove a help rather than a hindrance. Mrs. Harris knew that
Gertrude and George, who had received a broad education, were ambitious
to do good, and besides she trusted and loved them both.

It was clear to George and Gertrude that little or no hindrance would be
offered to wise plans of usefulness. It was finally agreed that Colonel
Harris and George should spend a week or two visiting some of the great
industrial centers of Europe, and that Alfonso and Leo should accompany
the ladies to Paris, and then visit the haunts of the old portrait
painters of the Netherlands.

It was also decided by George and Gertrude that they would be married in
Paris. This made the two lovers happy; for soon the two diamonds and ruby
would be advanced to the ring finger, as promised by Gertrude on Mt.
Holyoke. Each felt that an inexpensive marriage in Paris would be a
fortunate escape from possible criticisms at home. Colonel Harris had
promised Gertrude a special gift of a thousand dollars for the
approaching nuptials, she to do what she desired with the money. So she
decided to use only one-fourth of the gift for herself, to send one-half
of it to the Relief Society, and the balance to two ladies' benevolent
societies of Harrisville.

The discussion of these plans made the last night in London a happy one.
Happiness comes when we warm the hearts near us. When selfishness leaves
the heart, the dove of peace enters. Early next morning at the Victoria
Station, Colonel Harris and George saw their friends off for Paris. The
route taken was the one via the London, Chatham & Dover Railway, an
hour's run to Dover, thence in the twin steamer "Calais-Dover," an hour
and a half's ride across the English Channel to Calais, and from Calais
via railway to Paris, capital of the French Republic.

Then Reuben Harris and George Ingram left Victoria Station to pay their
respects to Henry Bessemer, civil engineer, who lived at Denmark Hill
south of London. They desired to study the conditions which make the
British people powerful. Both were aware that England was richly stored
with the most serviceable of all minerals, coal and iron, in convenient
proximity; that her large flocks of sheep supplied both wool and leather;
that Ireland had been encouraged in the cultivation of flax; that the
convenience of intercourse between mother country and her neighbors,
especially America, had enabled England to engage largely in the
manufacture of the three textile staples, wool, flax, and cotton. But
material resources are only one element in great industrial successes.
Both labor and capital are equally essential.

Englishmen have strength and skill. In delicate and artistic
manipulation, however, the Englishman may be surpassed, but he possesses
in a rare degree great capacity for physical application to work, also
tremendous mental energy and perseverance. Most of the world's valuable
and great inventions, as successfully applied to the leading industries,
were made by the English.

Though England has neither gold nor silver mines, yet for centuries she
has commanded vast capital. Her trading enterprise, which has made the
Englishman conspicuous round the world, existed long before the Norman
conquest. Helpful and consistent legislation has also favored British
industries. Besides, England enjoyed a good start in the race with
foreigners. Surplus English capital of late has been employed in
promoting foreign industry, and the interests of England as a rival
may suffer.

Reaching the station at Denmark Hill, the colonel and George drove at
once to Bessemer's home. It is doubtful if England has forty acres, owned
by a private citizen, more tastefully laid out and adorned, with forests,
lawns, and flowers.

Henry Bessemer was tall and well formed, and looked the ideal Englishman,
as he gave cordial welcome, in his large drawing room, to Colonel Harris
and George Ingram. Evidences of his constructive skill and exquisite
taste were seen on every hand, notably in his billiard room,
conservatory, and astronomical observatory. The last contained a
reflector telescope of his own design, that rivals the world-famed
telescope of Lord Rosse. Both were soon charmed with Bessemer's manners
and conversation.

George had read of this wonderful man who was born in 1813; between 1838
and 1875 he had taken out 113 patents, and the drawings of his own work
made seven thick volumes. This record of Bessemer indicates an almost
unrivalled degree of mental activity and versatility as keen observer,
original thinker, and clever inventor.

His drawings showed patents in connection with improvements in engines,
cars, wheels, axles, tires, brakes, and rails. Fifteen patents for
improvements in sugar manufacture, patents for motors and hydraulic
apparatus, for the manufacture of iron and steel, the shaping, embossing,
shearing, and cutting of metals, for marine artillery, ordnance,
projectiles, ammunition, armor plates, screw propellers, anchors,
silvering glass, casting of type, patents for bronze powder, gold paint,
oils, varnishes, asphalt pavements, waterproof fabrics, lenses, etc.

Mr. Bessemer's greatest invention, announced to the British Association
at Cheltenham, in 1856, is his method of the manufacture of iron and
steel without fuel, which started a new era in the iron trade. His name
will be forever associated with the rapid conversion of pig iron into
malleable iron and steel. By this process the price of steel per ton has
been reduced from $160 to $25, a price less than was formerly paid for
iron. Mr. Bessemer received the Telford and Albert gold medals and honors
from sovereigns and societies round the world.

George said to Mr. Bessemer that he thought Lord Palmerston's definition,
"dirt was matter out of place," was especially applicable to the
undesirable elements in ores.

"Very true," replied Mr. Bessemer, "and the man who can clean the dirt
from our ores, and produce the most desirable steel, at the least cost,
is a great benefactor of humanity."

Mr. Bessemer's own story of his most important invention was very
interesting. Practical iron men had said that it was an impossible feat
to convert molten pig iron in a few minutes into fluid malleable iron,
and then into available steel, and all this without additional fuel. But
the genius and perseverance of Mr. Bessemer, aided by his practical
knowledge of chemistry and mechanics, did it. It had long been known
that, if a horseshoe nail were tied to a cord and the point heated to
whiteness, the iron nail could be made to burn in common air by being
whirled in a circle. The ring of sparks proved a combustion. Mr. Bessemer
was the first however to show that if air was forced, not upon the
surface, but into and amongst the particles of molten iron, the same
sort of combustion took place.

Pig iron, which is highly carbonized iron from the blast furnace, was
laboriously converted into malleable iron by the old process of the
puddling furnace. Bessemer conceived the process of forcing air among the
particles of molten iron, and by a single operation, combining the use of
air in the double purpose of increasing temperature, and removing the
carbon. The carbon of the iron has a greater affinity for the oxygen of
the air than for the iron. When all the carbon is removed, then exactly
enough carbon is added by introducing molten spiegeleisen to produce
steel of any desired temper with the utmost certainty.

With the ordinary kinds of pig iron early in use, Bessemer's process
was powerless. The old puddling process was more capable of removing
phosphorus and sulphur. But with pig iron produced from the red hematite
ores, practically free from phosphorus, Bessemer's process was a
surprising success.

At once exploration began to open vast fields of hematite ores in the
counties of Cumberland and Lancashire of England, in Spain, in the Lake
Superior regions of North America, and in other countries. Bessemer
wisely made his royalty very low, five dollars per ton; capital rapidly
flowed into this new industry, and Bessemer won a fortune. Mushroom towns
and cities sprung up everywhere and fortunes were made by many.

Mr. Bessemer himself vividly described his process in action: "When the
molten pig iron is poured into mortar-like converters, supported on
trunions like a cannon, the process is brought into full activity. The
blast is admitted through holes in the bottom, when small powerful jets
of air spring upward through the boiling fluid mass, and the whole
apparatus trembles violently. Suddenly a volcano-like eruption of flames
and red-hot cinders or sparks occurs. The roaring flames, rushing from
the mouth of the converter, changes its violet color to orange and
finally to pure white. The large sparks change to hissing points, which
gradually become specks of soft, bluish light as the state of malleable
iron is approached."

This very brilliant process, which includes the introduction and mixture
of the spiegeleisen, may occupy fifteen minutes, when the moulds are
filled, and the steel ingots can be hammered or rolled the same as blooms
from a puddling furnace.

Mr. Bessemer explained many things, and offered many valuable
suggestions. A remark of Mr. Bessemer to George Ingram led the latter
to tell Bessemer a story which he heard in the smoking-room of the S.S.
"Campania."

"Two Irishmen once tried to sleep, but could not for Jersey mosquitoes
had entered their bedroom. Earnest effort drove the mosquitoes out, and
the light was again extinguished. Soon Mike saw a luminous insect, a big
fire-fly approaching. Quickly he roused his companion saying, 'Pat, wake
up! Quick! Let's be going! It's no use trying to get more sleep here,
there comes another Jersey mosquito hunting us with a lantern.'"

Mr. Bessemer was amused, and he ventured the assertion that when
electricity could be as cheaply produced directly from coal as the light
by the fire-fly, and successfully delivered in our great cities, the
smoke nuisance would be effectually abated, all freight charges on coal
would be saved, and coal operators could utilize all their slack at the
mines.

"Do you think this possible?" inquired Colonel Harris.

"Oh, yes, quite possible," answered Bessemer, "our necessities beget our
inventions and discoveries. Thorough investigation in the near future on
this and kindred lines must be fruitful of astonishing results in the
interests of a higher civilization." The colonel and George took their
leave. Truly the fire-fly, like the whirling hot nail, is suggestive of
great possibilities, thought George.

That evening it was planned to visit on the morrow the extensive
telegraphic works of Siemens Brothers & Co., Limited. George retired to
sleep, but his mind was never more active. On warm summer evenings he had
often held in his hand glow-worms and studied them as they emitted bright
phosphorescent light. He had learned that this faculty was confined to
the female which has no wings, and that the light is supposed to serve
as a beacon to attract and guide the male. The light proceeds from the
abdomen, and its intensity seems to vary at will. He had also read of
a winged, luminous insect of South America, which emits very brilliant
light from various parts of its body.

When George reflected that under even the most favorable conditions there
was realized in mechanical work of the energy stored in coal only 10%, he
was convinced that the extravagant waste of 90% of energy was in itself
sufficient argument against the present method as being the best
possible. Ever since his graduation, he had believed that the greatest of
all technical problems was the production of cheaper power. That it was
the great desideratum in cities in the production of food, and in food
transportation from farms to trunk lines, on railways and on the ocean.

While in America he had discussed the matter of cheaper power with
Edison, Thompson, Tesla, and others.

George and his father, James Ingram, experimenting with chemical energy,
had already discovered a galvanic element which enabled them to furnish
electrical energy direct from coal and the oxygen of the air, but this
important discovery was kept a secret. The chief object of George
Ingram's visit abroad was to follow the footsteps of other great
scientists and manufacturers to the edge or frontier of their discoveries
and practical workings.

It was two o'clock that night before George could close his eyes, but
promptly at 6:30 o'clock next morning he was ready for his bath and
shave, and later he and the colonel ate the usual European breakfast
of eggs, rolls, and coffee. The eight o'clock train was taken for the
great works of Siemens Brothers & Co., Limited, which are located at
Woolwich, down the Thames.

This firm, the pioneers of ship lighting by electricity, has already
fitted out hundreds of vessels with electric lights. They also
manufacture submarine and land telegraphs in vast quantities, having
aided largely in enclosing the globe in a network of cables. All the
Siemens brothers have shown much ability. Charles William was born at
Lenthe, Hanover, in 1823, and has received high scientific honors. The
world recognizes the valuable services that Dr. Siemens has rendered to
the iron and steel trade by his important investigations and inventions.

Dr. Siemens, like Mr. Bessemer, labored to make iron and steel direct
from the ores. By the invention of his regenerative gas furnace, which
makes the high grade and uniform steel so desirable in the construction
of ships, boilers, and all kinds of machines, Dr. Siemens has rendered
signal service. This visit at Siemens Brothers & Co.'s works was of great
interest, and many valuable ideas were gained.

Several days were next spent in Birmingham, and at the centers of steel
making in northwest England. Birmingham is called the "Toy Shop of the
World" for there almost everything is manufactured from a cambric needle
to a cannon.

Colonel Harris and George Ingram studied the workings of the English
"Saturday half-holiday," which employees earn by working an extra
half-hour on the five previous days. A visit was made to the Tangye Bros.
Engine Works at Soho, near Birmingham, which absorbed the engine works of
Boulton and Watt. It was Boulton who said to Lord Palmerston visiting
Soho, "Sir, we have here for sale what subjects of his Majesty most
seek, viz., Power."

The Tangyes employ thousands of men, manufacturing engines and other
products. Steam engines of all sizes, in enormous quantities are stored,
ready at a moment's notice to be shipped broadcast. It was the invention
of the powerful Tangye jack-screw that finally enabled the famous
engineer Brunel to launch his "Great Eastern" steamship which he had
built on the Thames, and which had settled on her keel.

Today the Tangye Brothers are fond of saying, "We launched the 'Great
Eastern,' and the 'Great Eastern' launched us." One of the Tangye
Brothers took the two Americans through James Watt's old home, and into
his famous garret, where Watt invented the parallel motion and other
parts of the steam engine. So important were Watt's engine inventions
that he alone should have the honor of inventing the modern engine which
has so elevated the race.

George was greatly interested in what the Tangye Brothers were doing for
their employees. Instructive lectures by capable men were given weekly to
their workmen, while they ate their dinners. Medical aid was furnished
free, and in many ways practical assistance was rendered their working
force.

After a most interesting journey among the steel firms, including Bocklow
& Vaughn of Middleborough, John Brown at Sheffield, and others, Reuben
Harris and George crossed over into busy Belgium, and thence they
journeyed via historic Cologne to Westphalia, Germany. Here are some of
the most productive coal measures on the earth, which extend eastward
from the Rhine for over thirty miles, and here one wonders at the dense
network of railways and manufacturing establishments, unparalleled in
Germany.

At Essen are the far-famed Krupp Works, one of the greatest manufacturing
firms on the globe. These works are the outgrowth of a small old forge,
driven by water power, and established in 1810 by Frederick Krupp. His
short life was a hard struggle, but he discovered the secret of making
cast-steel, and died in 1828. Before his death, however, he revealed his
valuable secret to his son Alfred, then only 14 years of age. After many
years of severe application, Alfred Krupp's first great triumph came in
1851 at the London World's Fair, where he received the highest medal. At
the Paris Exposition of 1855, as well as at Munich the year before, he
also won gold medals.

Abundant orders now flowed in for his breech-loading, cast-steel cannons.
In severe tests which followed, the famous Woolwich guns were driven from
the field. The Krupp guns won great victories over the French cannon at
Sedan, which was an artillery duel. At Gravelotte and Metz the Krupp guns
surpassed all others in range, accuracy, and penetrating power, and Herr
Alfred Krupp became the "Cannon King" of Europe. Americans remember well
his gigantic steel breech-loading guns at the expositions held in
Philadelphia, and Chicago.

Alfred Krupp, however, delighted more in improving the condition of his
army of employees. He provided for them miles of roomy, healthful homes.
He formed a commissariat, where his employees could secure at cost price
all the necessaries of life. He also established schools where the
children of his employees could receive education if desired in
technical, industrial, commercial, and mechanical pursuits, and in
special and classical courses as well. He devised a "Sick and Pension
Fund," for disabled workmen, which scheme Emperor William II. has made a
law of the German Empire. He likewise created life insurance companies,
and widow and orphan funds. The golden rule has been Alfred Krupp's
guiding star. He was always kind and considerate, and never dictatorial.

When asked to accept a title, he answered, "No, I want no title further
than the name of Krupp." Alfred Krupp died July 14, 1887, in the 75th
year of his age. His request was that his funeral should take place, not
from his palatial mansion, but in the little cottage within the works,
where he was born, which is to-day an object of great reverence to the
25,000 workmen who earn their daily bread in the vast Krupp foundries.

Alfred Krupp lived to see Essen, his native village, grow from a
population of 4,000 to a busy city of 70,000, where annually hundreds
of engines and steam hammers produce thousands of tons of steel castings
and forgings. Alfred Krupp built his own monument in the vast mills and
benevolences of Essen, a monument more useful and enduring than marble
or bronze. His son Frederick Alfred Krupp, his successor, married the
beautiful Baroness Margarette von Ende. Colonel Harris and George visited
other great works in Europe, and finally started to rejoin their friends
in Paris.




CHAPTER XVII

THE HARRIS PARTY VISITS PARIS


The distance is two hours from London to Dover. Half-way is Gad's Hill,
famous as the residence of the late Charles Dickens. Further on is
Canterbury, which is celebrated as the stronghold of Kentishmen and the
first English Christian city. Its prime attraction of course is its fine
cathedral, which in 1170 was the scene of Becket's murder.

Dover on the English Channel lies in a deep valley surrounded by high
chalk hills. On one of these, which is strongly fortified, may be seen
evidences of Norman, Saxon, and Roman works.

Every morning and evening the royal mail steamers leave Dover for Calais.
The channel ride of twenty-one miles was made by the Harrises without the
dreaded _mal de mer_. In the railway restaurant at Calais, Lucille
volunteered to order for the party, but she soon learned, much to the
amusement of her friends, that the French learned in Boston is not
successful at first in France.

The express to Paris is through Boulogne, an important sea town of
fifty-thousand inhabitants, which combines much English comfort with
French taste. From there hundreds of fishing boats extend their voyages
every season to the Scotch coast and even to far-off Iceland.

The scenery in the fertile valley of the Somme is beautiful. The route
lies through Amiens, a large city of textile industries, thence across
the Arve; the Harrises reached the station of the Northern Railway,
in the Place Roubaix, in northern Paris as the sun faded in the west.

Carriages were taken for the Grand Hotel, Boulevard des Capucines, near
the new opera house, which is centrally located, and offers to travelers
every comfort. The carriages enter a court, made inviting by fountains,
flowers, and electric light.

The first day or evening in Paris is bewildering. Early in the morning
the Harrises drove along the inner and the outer boulevards that encircle
Paris. Many miles of fine boulevards were built under Napoleon III. Most
from the Madeleine to the July Column are flanked with massive limestone
buildings, palatial mansions, and glittering shops, the architecture of
which is often uniform, and balconies are frequently built with each
story. Early every morning the asphalt and other pavements are washed.
At midday a busy throng crowds all the main streets.

Parisians favor residence in flats, and they enjoy immensely their
outdoor methods of living. At sundown the wide walks in front of
brilliant cafés are crowded with well dressed men and women, who seek
rest and refreshment in sipping coffee, wine, or absynthe, scanning the
papers for bits of social or political news, and discussing the latest
fad or sensation of the day. The English hurry but the French rarely.

Paris under electric light is indeed a fairyland. The boulevards are
brilliant and the scenes most animating. Everybody is courteous, and
all seen bent on a pleasurable time. Cafés, shops, and places of
entertainment are very inviting, and you easily forget to note the
passage of time. Midnight even overtakes you before you are aware of
the lateness of the hour. This is true, if you chance to visit, as did
the Harris party, some characteristic phases of Parisian life.

Near the east end of the Champs-Elysées, under the gas light and beneath
the trees, they found open-air theaters, concerts, crowded cafes, and
pretty booths supplied with sweets and drinks. Every afternoon if the
weather is favorable, tastefully dressed children appear in charge of
nursemaids in white caps and aprons, and together they make picturesque
groups in the shade of elm and lime trees.

At breakfast, Leo proposed a study of Paris, as seen from the Arc de
Triomphe de l'Etoile, so named from the star formed by a dozen avenues
which radiate from it. The location is at the west end of the Avenue des
Champs-Elysées. This monument is one of the finest ever built by any
nation for its defenders. It is 160 feet in height, 145 in width, was
begun in 1806 by Napoleon and completed thirty years afterwards by Louis
Philippe. Figures and reliefs on the arch represent important events in
Napoleon's campaigns. Arriving at the arch, Leo led the way up a spiral
staircase, 261 steps to the platform above which commands fine views of
Paris.

The Champs-Elysées, a boulevard one thousand feet in width, extends east
over a mile from the monument of the Place de la Concord. Handsome
buildings flank the sides, and much of the open space is shaded with elm
and lime trees. Grand statues, fountains, and flowers add their charm.
Between three and five o'clock every pleasant afternoon this magnificent
avenue becomes the most fashionable promenade in the world. Here you will
behold the elite in attendance at Vanity Fair; many are riding in elegant
equipages, many on horseback, and almost countless numbers on foot.

The popular drive is out the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, 320 feet in
width, to the Bois de Boulogne, a beautiful park of 2250 acres,
containing several lakes and fringed on the west side by the River
Seine. In the southwest part of this park is located the Hippodrome de
Longchamp, which is the principal race-course near Paris, where races
attract vast crowds, especially when the French Derby or the Grand Prix
of twenty thousand dollars is competed for early in June.

The Harrises standing on the monument, looked eastward, and Leo pointed
out the River Seine shooting beneath more than a score of beautiful stone
and iron bridges, and making a bold curve of seven miles through Paris.
Then the Seine flows like a ribbon of silver in a northwesterly direction
into the English Channel. On the right bank is seen the Palais du
Trocadero of oriental style, which was used for the International
Exposition of 1878. On the left bank stands the Palais du Luxembourg,
rich in modern French art, the Hotel des Invalides, where rests Napoleon,
and the Church of St. Genevieve, or the Pantheon, where Victor Hugo is
buried.

Beyond the Place de la Concord are the Royal Gardens of the Tuileries,
where Josephine and Eugenie walked among classic statues, vases,
fountains and flowers; the Louvre filled with priceless art treasures,
the beautiful Hotel de Ville or city-hall, majestic Notre Dame, and
the graceful Column of July. Paris is truly an earthly Paradise. For
centuries it has been the residence of French rulers, and the mecca of
her pleasure loving citizens. Fire, famine, foreign invasion, civil war,
and pestilence have often swept over this, the fairest of cities, yet
from each affliction, Phoenix-like, Paris has risen brighter and
gayer than ever.

Gertrude, May, and Lucille were charmed with the fair vision before them,
and were anxious to leave the Arch of Triumph and become a part of the
gay city. The carriages drove back to the Place de la Concord, one of the
finest open places in Europe. Around this place the chief cities of
France are represented by eight large stone figures. That of Strasburg
the French keep in mourning. In the center stands the Obelisk of Luxor,
of reddish granite, which was brought at great expense from Egypt and
tells of Rameses II. and his successor. Other ornaments are twenty
rostral columns, bearing twin burners. On grand occasions this place
and the avenue are illuminated by thirty thousand gas lights.

In the Place de la Concord the guillotine did its terrible work in the
months between January 21st, 1793, and May 3rd, 1795, when thousands of
Royalists and Republicans perished. Two enormous fountains adorned with
Tritons, Nereids, and Dolphins beautify the court. No wonder the
brilliant writer Chateaubriand objected to the erection here of these
fountains, observing that all the water in the world could not remove
the blood stains which sullied the spot.

How beautiful the vista up the broad and short Rue Royale, which conducts
to the classic Madeleine! Alfonso was entranced with the beauty of this
rare temple, which was begun and finally dedicated as a church, though
Napoleon earnestly hoped to complete it as a temple of glory for his old
soldiers. Its cost was nearly three million dollars. A colonnade of
fifty-two huge fluted Corinthian columns and above them a rich frieze
surround the church. The approach is by a score and more of stone steps
and through enormous bronze doors on which the Ten Commandments are
illustrated.

Entering the Madeleine, one sees an interior richly adorned, floors of
marble, and lofty columns supporting a three-domed roof, through which
light enters. On either side are six confessionals of oak and gilt,
where prince and peasant alike confess their sins. Beyond is the altar
of spotless marble. How beautiful the group of white figures, which
represents Madeleine forgiven, and borne above on angels' wings! This
artistic group cost thirty thousand dollars.

On Sunday morning Leo and his friends came to the Madeleine which is the
metropolitan church of Paris. Here every Sunday exquisite music is
rendered, and here come the elite to worship and to add liberal gifts. It
is a broad policy that no Catholic Church on the globe, not even splendid
St. Peter's of Rome, is considered too good for rich and poor of all
nationalities to occupy together for the worship of the Master.

All the Parisian churches are crowded on Sunday mornings, but Sunday
afternoons are used as holidays, and all kinds of vehicles and trains are
burdened with well dressed people in pursuit of pleasure.

Traveling by omnibus and tramway in Paris is made as convenient to the
public as possible; nobody is permitted to ride without a seat, and there
are frequent waiting stations under cover. This is as it should be.
Nearly a hundred lines of omnibuses and tramways in Paris intersect
each other in every direction. Inside the fares are six cents, outside
three cents. A single fare allows of a transfer from one line to another.
Railways surround Paris, thus enabling the public to reach easily the
many pretty suburbs and villages.

Both Mrs. Harris and Gertrude on their return to the Grand Hotel were
glad to find letters from the men they loved. George wrote Gertrude that
he was amazed at the enormous capacity of the manufacturing plants which
he and Colonel Harris were visiting; that both labor and capital were
much cheaper than in America. His closing words were, "Learn all you can,
darling, I shall soon come to claim you."

Gertrude had read of the laundries on the Seine, so she left the hotel
early with her mother and Alfonso to see them, while Leo, Lucille, and
May went to study contemporaneous French masterpieces in the Luxembourg
palace and gallery. The public wash houses on the Seine are large
floating structures with glass roofs, steaming boilers, and rows of tubs
foaming with suds. Hard at work, stand hundreds of strong and bare armed
women, who scrub and wring their linen, while they sing and reply to the
banter of passing bargee or canotier.

If the sun is shining and the water is clear, the blue cotton dresses
of the women contrast prettily with white linen and bare arms busily
employed. Though they earn but a pittance, about five cents an hour, yet
they are very independent; mutual assistance is their controlling creed,
and few, if any, honor more loyally the republican principle of liberty,
equality and fraternity. The women seemed to do all the hard work, while
the men in snowy shirts and blue cotton trousers, with scarlet girdles
about their waists, pushed deftly to and fro the hot flat or box irons
over white starched linen.

Each ironer has a bit of wax, which he passes over the hot iron when he
comes to the front, the collar, or the wrist-bands, and he boasts that he
can goffer a frill or "bring up" a pattern of lace better than a
Chinaman.

Alfonso and his party drove along the handsome Rue de Rivoli, with its
half-mile of arcades, attractive shops, and hotels of high grade, and
up the Rue Castiglione, which leads to the Place Vendome. Here in one
of a hundred open places in Paris rises the Column Vendome in imitation
of Trajan's column in Rome. The inscription records that it is to
commemorate Napoleon's victories in 1805 over the Austrians and Russians.
On the pedestal are reliefs which represent the uniforms and weapons
of the conquered armies. The memorable scenes, from the breaking of camp
at Boulogne down to the Battle of Austerlitz, are shown on a broad bronze
band that winds spirally up to the capital, and the shaft is surmounted
by a bronze statue of Napoleon in his imperial robes.

Fortunately Alfonso's carriage overtook Leo's party, and they visited
together the pretty arcades and gardens of the Palais Royal. In the open
courts are trees, flowers, fountains, and statues, and on the four sides
are inviting cafés and shops which display tempting jewelry and other
beautiful articles. On summer evenings a military band plays here.
Returning, the ladies stepped into the Grand Magasin du Louvre. At a
buffet, refreshments were gratis, and everywhere were crowds, who
evidently appreciated the great variety of materials for ladies' dresses,
the fine cloths, latest novelties, exquisite laces, etc. The ladies
planned to return here, and to make a visit to the famous Au Bon Marche,
where cheap prices always prevail. Most of the afternoon was spent in the
Louvre, a vast palace of art, and the evening at the Theatre Français,
the ceiling of which represents France, bestowing laurels upon her three
great children, Molière, Corneille, and Racine. The Theatre Français
occupies the highest rank. Its plays are usually of a high class, and the
acting is admirable. The government grants this theatre an annual subsidy
of about fifty thousand dollars.

Early next morning, the Harrises took carriages to the Halles Centrales,
or union markets. These markets consist of ten pavilions intersected by
streets. There are twenty-five hundred stalls which cover twenty-two
acres, and cost fifteen million dollars. Under the markets are twelve
hundred cellars for storage. The sales to wholesale dealers are made by
auction early in the day, and they average about a hundred thousand
dollars. Then the retail traffic begins. The supplies, some of which
come from great distances along the Mediterranean, include meat, fish,
poultry, game, oysters, vegetables, fruit, flowers, butters, cream
cheese, etc. Great throngs of people, mostly in blue dresses and blouses,
with baskets and bundles constantly surge past you. The whole scene is
enjoyable. Everything they offer is fresh, and the prices usually are
reasonable. When you make a purchase, you are made to feel that you
have conferred a favor and are repeatedly thanked for it.

The few days that followed in Paris were days of rest, or were spent
in planning for the future. The art galleries and the shops on the
boulevards were repeatedly visited, theaters and rides were enjoyed,
and on Friday morning, the ladies went to the railway station to take
leave of Alfonso and Leo, who left Paris for the study of art in the
Netherlands. Colonel Harris and George Ingram were expected to arrive
in Paris on Saturday evening.




CHAPTER XVIII

IN BELGIUM AND HOLLAND


Reluctantly Alfonso and Leo left Lucille and May in Paris. Both were well
educated and beautiful women. It is possible that Alfonso might have
loved May Ingram had he been thrown more into her company, and so known
her better in early life, but the Harrises and Ingrams rarely met each
other in society. As for Leo, he loved Lucille, but she had erected an
impassable barrier in her utterance on the steamer, "First love or none."

Leo in a thousand ways had been kind to her, because he hoped eventually
to win her favor, and possibly because he fully appreciated the value of
money. Fortunes in Europe are not so easily made, but once won, the rich
of the old world as a rule husband their resources better then they of
the new world. On the whole Alfonso and Leo were glad to cut loose from
society obligations and be free to absorb what generations of art
development in the Netherlands had to offer.

Leaving Paris they took the express via Rheims for Brussels. Entering
this beautiful capital of the Belgians in the northern part of the city,
they took a cab that drove past the Botanic Garden down the Rue Royale to
the Hotel Bellevue which is near the Royal Palace and overlooks a park,
embellished with sculptures, trees, flowers, and smooth lawns. One of the
most enjoyable and profitable things for tourists to do in their travels
is to climb at least one tower or height, as the views and correct
information thus obtained will cling longest to the memory.

Brussels is Paris in miniature. The royal palace and park may be compared
to the Tuileries. The beautiful drive down the Boulevard de Waterloo and
up Avenue Louise leads directly to the Bois de la Cambre, a lovely forest
of four hundred and fifty acres, which resembles the Bois de Boulogne of
Paris. Nearly six miles of old and new boulevards encircle Brussels,
passing through the upper and lower portions of the city. The pleasing
variety of some of the more handsome buildings is due to the competition
for large premiums offered for the finest façades. The resemblance of
Brussels to Paris is perhaps more apparent in the cafés, shops, and
public amusements along the busy boulevards. West of the Royal Palace is
the picture gallery owned by the state, and by judicious and repeated
purchases, the collection of pictures is considered superior to that of
the famous gallery in Antwerp. In this gallery the two young artists
spent several pleasant half-days comparing the early Flemish and Dutch
schools. Especially did they study portrait work by Rubens, Frans Hals,
and Van der Helst. All the work by the blacksmith artist Quinten Matsys
in color or iron proved of great interest to the young Americans.

Finally Leo, who knew much of the old masters of Europe, took Alfonso to
see the Musee Wiertz, which contains all the works of a highly gifted and
eccentric master. In a kind of distemper Wiertz painted Napoleon in the
Infernal Region, Vision of a Beheaded Man, A Suicide, The Last Cannon,
Curiosity, and Contest of Good and Evil, Hunger, Madness and Crime, etc.
As Brussels is located near the center of Belgium, the city is very
convenient to several cities that contain many works attractive to
painters and architects.

On arrival at Antwerp Alfonso and Leo rode to one of the stately
cathedrals, near which a military band was playing. Before the church
stood a bronze statue of Peter Paul Rubens. The scrolls and books,
which lie on the pedestal, with brush, palette, and hat, are allusions
to the varied pursuits of Rubens as diplomatist, statesman, and painter.
The two young artists hastened into the cathedral to see Rubens's famous
pictures, The Descent from the Cross, and The Assumption. His conception
and arrangement were admirable, his drawing carefully done, and his
coloring harmonious and masterly.

Rubens, the prince of Flemish painters, was knighted. He was handsome and
amiable, and his celebrity as an artist procured for him the friendship
and patronage of princes and men of distinction throughout Europe.

Not far from the cathedral the young artists came to the museum, in
front of which rises a statue to Van Dyck, pupil of Rubens. "Here,
Alfonso," said Leo, "is encouragement for you, for Van Dyck like yourself
was the son of a wealthy man or merchant of Antwerp. He was educated in
Italy, where he executed several fine portraits which I saw in Genoa as
I journeyed to Paris." Charles I. of England appointed Van Dyck
court-painter and knighted him. Van Dyck's ambition was to excel in
historical works, but the demand upon him for portraits never left him
much leisure for other subjects. How often "man proposes, but God
disposes."

Alfonso and Leo reached Dort or Dordrecht, which in the middle ages was
the most powerful and wealthy commercial city in Holland. Huge rafts
float down from the German forests, and at Dordrecht the logs are sawed
by the many windmills. The Dutch province of Zealand is formed by nine
large islands on the coast of the North Sea, and it has for its heraldic
emblem a swimming lion with a motto _Luctor et Emergo_.

Most of the province, which is created by the alluvial deposits of the
Scheldt, is below the sea-level, and is protected against the
encroachments of the sea by vast embankments of an aggregate length of
300 miles. Willows are planted along the dykes, the annual repairs of
which cost $425,000. An old proverb says, "God made the land, we Dutch
made the sea."

This fertile soil produces abundant crops of wheat and other grain. Near
Dort is a vast reed-forest, covering more than 100 islands, which is also
called, "Verdronken land," drowned land. This area of forty square miles,
once a smiling agricultural tract, was totally inundated on the 18th of
November, 1421. Seventy-two thriving market towns and villages were
destroyed, and 100,000 persons perished. Leo made a sketch of the tower
of Huis Merwede, the solitary and only relic of this desolate scene.

The two artists visited Rotterdam, the second commercial city in Holland,
which is fourteen miles from the North Sea and on the right bank of the
Maas. An attractive quay a mile in length is the arriving and starting
point for over 100 steamboats that connect Rotterdam with Dutch towns,
the Rhine, England, France, Russia, and the Mediterranean.

Alfonso and Leo studied the collection of portraits at Boyman's Museum,
and sketched in the River Park the happy people who were grouped under
trees, by the fish ponds, and along the grassy expanses. Alfonso bought a
photograph of the illustrious Erasmus. It is about ten miles to Delft,
once celebrated for its pottery and porcelain, a city to-day of 25,000
inhabitants. Here on the 10th of July, 1584, William of Orange, Founder
of Dutch independence, was shot by an assassin to secure the price set on
William's head by Farnese.

Our two artists visited a church in Delft to see the marble monument to
the memory of the Prince of Orange, which was inscribed "Prince William,
the Father of the Fatherland." Not far is Delft Haven which Americans
love to visit, and where the pious John Robinson blessed a brave little
band as it set sail to plant in a new world the tree of Liberty.

At length the artists reached The Hague, which for centuries has been the
favorite residence of the Dutch princes, and to-day is occupied by the
court, nobles, and diplomatists. No town in Holland possesses so many
broad and handsome streets, lofty and substantial blocks, and spacious
squares as The Hague.

Alfonso and Leo hastened to Scheveningen, three miles west of The Hague,
on the breezy and sandy shores of the North Sea, a clean fishing village
of neat brick houses sheltered from the sea by a lofty sand dune. Here
bathing wagons are drawn by a strong horse into the ocean, where the
bather can take his cool plunge. Scheveningen possesses a hundred fishing
boats. The fishermen have an independent spirit and wear quaint dress. A
public crier announces the arrival of their cargoes, which are sold at
auction on the beach, often affording picturesque and amusing scenes,
sketches of which were made. The luminous appearance of the sea caused by
innumerable mollusca affords great pleasure to visitors, twenty thousand
of whom every year frequent this fashionable sea-bathing resort.

The second evening after the artists' arrival at Scheveningen, as they
sauntered along on the brick-paved terrace in sight of white sails and
setting sun, Alfonso was agreeably surprised to meet in company with her
mother, Christine de Ruyter, a young artist, whose acquaintance he had
made in the Louvre at Paris.

Christine's father, prominent for a long time in the vessel trade, had
recently died, leaving a fortune to his wife and two daughters, one of
whom, Fredrika was already married. They were descended from the famous
Admiral de Ruyter, who in 1673 defeated the united fleets of France and
England off the coast of Scheveningen, which fact added much of interest
to their annual visit to this resort. While Leo talked with the mother,
Alfonso listened to Christine, as she told much about the historic family
with which she was connected, and in return she learned somewhat of young
Harris's family and their visit to Europe.

Christine, who was about Alfonso's age, had fair complexion, light hair,
and soft blue eyes. Her beauty added refinement that education and wide
travel usually furnish.

It was seen in Alfonso's face and in his marked deference that Christine
filled his ideal of a beautiful woman. Christine and her mother and the
young artists were registered at the Hotel de Orange, so of necessity
they were thrown into each other's company. They drove to The Hague,
compared the statues of William of Orange with each other; rode along
the elegant streets, south through the Zoological and Botanical Gardens,
through the park, and to the drill grounds. A half-day was spent in
visiting the "House in the Woods," a Royal Villa, one and one-half
miles northeast of The Hague. This palace is beautifully decorated,
particularly the Orange Salon, which was painted by artists of the school
of Rubens.

Alfonso and Leo enjoyed their visits to the celebrated picture gallery,
which contains among many Dutch paintings the famous pictures by Paul
Potter and Rembrandt. Paul Potter's Bull is deservedly popular. This
picture was once carried off to Paris, and there ranked high in the
Louvre, and later the Dutch offered 60,000 florins to Napoleon for its
restoration.

Christine, who was well conversant with art matters, knew the location
and artistic value of each painting and guided the young Americans to
works by Van Dyck, Rubens, the Tenniers, Holbein, and others. She was
proud of a terra-cotta head of her ancestor, Admiral de Ruyter. The party
soon reached Rembrandt's celebrated "School of Anatomy," originally
painted for the Amsterdam Guild of Surgeons. Tulp is in black coat with
lace collar and broad-brimmed soft hat, dissecting a sinew of the arm of
the corpse before him. He is explaining, with gesture of his left hand,
his theory to a group of Amsterdam surgeons. No painter ever before
succeeded in so riveting the attention of spectators in the presence of
death. The listeners appear altogether unconscious of the pallid corpse
that lies before them on the dissecting table.

Invited by Christine's mother, the young artists accompanied the De
Ruyters to Amsterdam, the commercial capital of Holland, with 300,000
inhabitants. They live on ninety islands formed by intersecting canals,
which are crossed by three hundred bridges. The buildings rest on
foundations of piles, or trees, which fact gave rise to Erasmus's jest,
that he knew a city where the people dwelt on tops of trees, like rooks.

Alfonso took Leo into the suburbs to see diamond polishing. The machinery
is run by steam, and the work is done largely by Portuguese Jews. These
precious stones are cut or sawed through by means of wires covered with
diamond dust, and the gems are polished by holding them against rapidly
revolving iron disks moistened with a mixture of diamond dust and oil.

Christine's people lived in a red brick mansion, the gable of which
contained a portrait in relief of Admiral de Ruyter, and fronted a shaded
street on a canal. Here the American artists were handsomely entertained.
They were driven to the picture galleries and the palace or town-hall in
the Dam Square, where Louis Napoleon and Hortense once resided. From the
tower which terminates in a gilded ship the artists obtained fine views
of Northern Holland. Christine pointed out the Exchange and other objects
of interest in the city, which abounds in narrow streets and broad
canals, the latter lined with fine shade trees. Many of the tall,
narrow houses have red tile roofs, quaint fork-chimneys, and they stand
with gables to the canals. The docks show a forest of masts.

The environs of the city are covered with gardens; trees adorn the roads,
while poplars and willows cross or divide the fields, which are studded
with windmills and distant spires, and everywhere are seen fertile corps,
black and white cattle, and little boats creeping slowly along the
canals.

A Hollander's wealth is often estimated by his windmills. If asked, "How
rich?" The reply comes, "Oh, he is worth ten or twelve windmills."
Holland seems alive with immense windmills. They grind corn, they saw
wood, they pulverize rocks, and they are yoked to the inconstant winds
and forced to contend with the water, the great enemy of the Dutch. They
constantly pump water from the marshes into canals, and so prevent the
inundation of the inhabitants. The Hollander furnishes good illustration
of the practical value of Emerson's words, "Borrow the strength of the
elements. Hitch your wagon to a star, and see the chores done by the gods
themselves."

To the west are seen the church spires of Haarlem, and its long canal,
which like a silver thread ties it to Amsterdam. To the east the towers
of Utrecht are visible, and to the north glitter in the morning sun the
red roofs of Zaandam and Alkmaar.

Far away stretched the waters of the Zuider Zee, which Holland plans to
reclaim by an enbankment from the extreme cape of North Holland, to the
Friesland coast, so as to shut out the ocean, and thereby acquire 750,000
square miles of new land; a whole province. At present 3,000 persons
and 15,000 vessels are employed in the Zuider Zee fisheries, the revenues
of which average $850,000 a year. It is proposed to furnish equivalents
to satisfy these fishermen. It is estimated that this wonderful
engineering feat will extend over 33 years and cost $131,250,000.

Christine now conducted her artist friends out of the Palace and over to
the Rijks Museum to see Rembrandt's largest and best work, his "Night
Watch." It is on the right as you enter, covering the side of the room.
It represents a company of arquebusiers, energetically emerging from
their Guild House on the Singel. The light and shade of the Night Watch
is so treated as to form a most effective dramatic scene, which, since
its creation, in 1642, has been enthusiastically admired by all art
connoisseurs.

Rembrandt was the son of a miller, and his studio was in his father's
wind-mill, where light came in at a single narrow window. By close
observation he became master of light and shade, and excelled in vigor
and realism. At $50 a year he taught pupils who flocked to him from all
parts of Europe, but, like too many possessed of fine genius, he died in
poverty. Later, London paid $25,000 for a single one of his six hundred
and forty paintings. The Dutch painters put on canvas the everyday
home-life and manners of their people, while the Flemish represented more
the religious life of the lower Netherlands.

These journeys in Belgium gave Alfonso and Leo enlarged ideas as to the
possibilities of portrait painting. In Alma Tadema, of Dutch descent, and
Millais they saw modern examples of wonderful success, which made clear
to them that the high art of portrait painting once acquired, both fame
and fortune are sure to follow.

Christine de Ruyter had taken lessons of the best masters in Holland,
Italy, and France. Few, if any women artists of her age, equalled or
excelled her. Her conversations on art in the Netherlands charmed her
two artist friends. She said, "The works of art of the fifteenth and
seventeenth centuries in the Netherlands seemed to grow out of the very
soil of the low countries. Our old artists revelled in the varied
costumes and manifold types that thronged the cities of the Hanseatic
League. The artist's imagination was fascinated by the wealth of color he
saw on sturdy laborers, on weather-beaten mariners, burly citizens, and
sagacious traders.

"Rubens delighted often in a concentrated light, and was master of
artistic material along the whole range. He painted well portraits,
landscapes, battles of heroes, gallant love-making of the noble, and the
coarse pleasures of the vulgar. Nearly a thousand pictures bear the name
of Rubens.

"The artistic labor of Frans Hals of Haarlem extended over half a
century. He possessed the utmost vivacity of conception, purity of color,
and breadth of execution, as shown in his latest works, and so well did
he handle his brush that drawing seems almost lost in a maze of color
tone. The throng of genre painters, who have secured for Dutch art its
greatest triumph, are well nigh innumerable."

Christine was very fond of flower-pieces, and had painted lovely
marguerites on Gertrude's white dress, in Alfonso's full length picture
of his sister, which he was soon to carry to Paris as his wedding
present.

Leo and Alfonso much wished to extend their journey north to Copenhagen
and Stockholm, the "Venice of the North," but letters urging a speedy
return to the marriage of George and Gertrude in Paris, forced the two
artists to shorten their journey, say good-bye to their kind friends of
Amsterdam, and hasten back to Paris, taking portraits of their own skill
as wedding gifts.




CHAPTER XIX

PARIS AND THE WEDDING


Friday morning, Alfonso and Leo were missed at the table, and during the
day as guides. Early every day while in Paris, Alfonso had bouquets of
fresh flowers sent to the rooms of his mother, sisters, and May Ingram.
After his departure the flowers did not come, so Gertrude and May before
breakfast walked down the boulevard to the flower show, near the
Madeleine, where twice a week are gathered many flower carts in charge of
courteous peasant women. The flowers of Paris are usually cheap. A franc,
eighteen cents, buys a bunch of pansies, or roses in bud or full bloom,
or marguerites. The latter are similar to the English ox-eyed daisy, a
favorite flower with the French, also with Gertrude, who often pinned a
bunch on May Ingram. In mid-winter Parisian gardeners delight in forcing
thousands of white lilac blossoms, which are sold in European capitals
for holiday gifts.

Gertrude and May hurried back to the hotel as happy as the birds in the
trees of the boulevard. When Gertrude reached her mother, a telegram was
given her from George which read:

  City of Brussels.

  _Gertrude_,--

  We expect to arrive in Paris Saturday evening 6 o'clock. Alfonso and
  Leo here. All well. Grand trip. Love to all.

  George.

Mrs. Harris and her young ladies planned to give most of the day to the
purchase of Gertrude's trousseau and other needed articles. May Ingram
thought it was "just lovely" to be with Gertrude in Paris, and help her
select the wedding outfit. Earlier than usual on Friday morning the
Harrises left the hotel. All four women were somewhat excited, as Mrs.
Harris and Gertrude led the way, Lucille and May following, to M. Worth's
establishment, located at Rue de la Paix 7.

Lucille said, "It is strange indeed that, in view of the French ridicule
made of the English on account of their lack of taste in dress, the best
dressmakers in Paris should be Englishmen."

Chief among all the Parisian dressmakers is Charles Frederick Worth, who
was born in 1825, at Bourne, Lincolnshire. He came to Paris in 1858, and
opened business with fifty employees combining the selling of fine dress
material and the making of it. Worth now employs twelve hundred persons,
and turns out annually over six thousand dresses and nearly four thousand
cloaks; his sons ably assist him.

Rare fabrics and designs in silk and other choice material are woven, and
artistic ornaments are made especially for M. Worth. Paris, as the center
of fashion, is greatly indebted to him, who gained in his line world-wide
fame, and for nearly half a century he has been universally recognized by
his competitors and the fair sex as master of his art. Kingdoms, empires,
republics, and cabinets in swift succession followed each other, but the
establishment of M. Worth maintained its proud position against all
changes and rivals. He was helped to the highest pedestal of dictator
of fashions by Mme. de Pourtales and Princess Pauline Metternich, both
of whom possessed a keen sense of the fitness of texture, color, and
cut, and with delicate hands could tone and modify till perfection was
reached. The former introduced M. Worth to Empress Eugenie, for whom,
and for the ladies of whose court, he designed state, dinner, and fancy
costumes.

That M. Worth possessed rare artistic taste aside from dressmaking is
evidenced in the beauty of his rural home at Suresnes on the Seine, seven
and a half miles from Paris. It is a superb work of harmony and is like
a charming mosaic, every piece fitting into every other piece. He was
his own architect, designer, upholsterer, and gardener. His villa lies
beneath Mt. Valerien, one of the finest sites near Paris, and the outlook
on the Seine, the Bois de Boulogne, and Paris, is a dream of beauty.

Hurriedly passing down the Rue de la Paix, the stately Column Vendome in
the vista, the Harris party entered M. Worth's establishment, to which
women, from actress to empress, make pilgrimages from the end of the
world.

What a medley of people were already assembled! English duchesses,
Russian princesses, Austrians, Spanish and Levantine aristocracy; wives
and daughters of American railroad kings, of oil magnates, and of coal
barons; brunette beauties from India, Japan, South America, and even
fair Australians, all unconsciously assuming an air of ecstasy as they
revelled in the fabric and fashion of dress; and stalking among them,
that presiding genius, M. Worth, who in his mitre-shaped cap of black
velvet, and half mantle or robe, strikingly resembled the great painter
Hogarth.

Mrs. Harris sent forward her letter of introduction from her husband's
New York banker, and soon she and her friends were ushered into the
presence of M. Worth himself. He seemed very gracious, asking about
several good friends of his in America, and added, "Americans are my best
clients, though we dispatch dresses to all parts of the world."

Gertrude inquired as to the origin of fashion. M. Worth answered
cautiously, "When new fabrics or designs of material are invented, some
require a severe style, and some are adapted for draperies, puffings,
etc., and then the stage has great influence over fashion."

May Ingram said, "Mr. Worth, how do you arrange designs?" He answered,
"All my models are first made in black and white muslin, and then copied
in the material and coloring which I select. In a studio our models are
photographed for future reference."

Saying this, he excused himself to welcome new arrivals, first having
placed the Harrises in charge of a competent assistant. M. Worth's many
rooms were plainly furnished with counters for measuring materials. The
floors were covered with a gray and black carpet, in imitation of a
tiger's skin, with a scarlet border. Several young women dressed in the
latest style of morning, visiting, dinner, and reception toilets, passed
up and down before clients to enable them to judge of effects. Mrs.
Harris explained that one daughter desired, at an early date, a wedding
dress and that the other members of her party wanted gowns.

Friday and Saturday were occupied at Worth's in selecting dresses, and
elsewhere in search of gloves and other essentials. A delightful hour was
spent among the many makers of artificial flowers. Skilled fingers make
from wire and silk stems and stamens and dies, shape leaves and petals
which are darkened by a camel's hair pencil, or lightened by a drop of
water. Capable botanists and chemists are employed, and nature herself is
rivaled in delicate construction and fragrance even.

In their round of shopping, the Harrises saw an ideal robe being made for
an American belle. It was composed entirely of flowers, a skirt of roses
of different tints, with a waist of lovely rose buds, and over all a veil
with crystal drops in imitation of the morning dew. "A gem of a dress for
some fairy," thought Lucille.

Promptly at six o'clock Gertrude and Lucille drove to the railway
station, and welcomed back George and Colonel Harris, and after dinner
all went to the opera. Between the acts Gertrude and George told much
of their late experiences. George said that Colonel Harris had become
greatly interested in their scheme to build in America an ideal plant and
town, and that he was anxious to return home as he felt that one's work
must be done early, as life was short at best.

Gertrude explained to George all that had been done in preparing for the
wedding, and said that she would be ready soon, that her mother and
Lucille approved of their wedding trip of two weeks in Switzerland, and
then Gertrude added, "I shall be ready, George, when you are, to return
to America and to aid you all I can."

Colonel Harris suggested a ride to Versailles, and Monday morning at nine
o'clock Gaze's coach and four drove to the Grand Hotel, and six outside
seats which had been reserved for the Harris party were filled. The
coachman drove down the Avenue de l'Opera and into the Place du
Carrousel, stopping a moment that all might admire the artistic pavilions
of the Louvre, and the statue to the memory of Leon Gambetta, "Father of
the Republic." Thence they rode out of the Court of the Tuileries, across
the Place de la Concord, and down the charming Champs Elysées. On the
left stands the Palais de l'Industrie, where the salon or annual
exhibition of modern paintings and sculptures occurs in May and June. On
the right is the Palais de l'Elysée, the official residence of the French
president.

George recalled that in these gardens of Paris, in 1814, Emperors
Alexander and Francis, King Frederick III., and others sang a _Te Deum_,
in thanksgiving for their great victory over Napoleon I.; that here
the English, Prussian, and Russian troops bivouacked, and that in the
spring of 1871, Emperor William and his brilliant staff led the German
troops beneath the Arc de Triomphe, while the German bands played "Die
Wacht am Rhine."

The coach passed through the Bois de Boulogne, in sight of lovely lakes,
quaint old windmills, and across famous Longchamps, where after the
Franco-German War under a bright sky, in the presence of the French
president, his cabinet, the senate and chamber of deputies, in full
dress, and a million of enthusiastic citizens, Grevy and Gambetta
presented several hundred silk banners to the French army. Thence the
drive was along the left bank of the river till the ruins of St. Cloud
were reached, where Napoleon III. Unwittingly signed his abdication when
he declared war against Prussia.

Climbing the hills through fine old forests after fourteen miles of
travel southwest of Paris, the coach reached Versailles. Here that
magnificent monarch, Louis XIV. lavished hundreds of millions on
palaces, parks, fountains, and statues, and here the Harrises studied the
brilliant pictorial history of France. In the Grand Gallery, which
commands beautiful views of garden and water, are effective paintings
in the ceiling, which represent the splendid achievements of Louis XIV.
In this same Hall of Glass, beneath Le Brun's color history of the defeat
of the Germans by the French, occurred in 1871 a bit of fine poetic
justice, when King William of Prussia, with the consent of the German
States, was saluted as Emperor of reunited Germany. After visiting the
Grand Trianon the home of Madame de Maintenon, the coach returned via
Sevres, famous for its wonderful porcelain, and reached Paris at sunset.
The day was one long to be remembered.

The Paris mornings were spent either in visits to the Louvre or in
driving. George and Gertrude walked much in Paris. Monday morning all
resolved to enjoy on foot the Boulevards from the Grand Hotel to the
Place de la Republique. It was a field-day for the women, for every shop
had its strong temptation, and the world seemed on dress-parade.
Boulevard des Italiens in Paris is the most frequented and fashionable.
Here are located handsome hotels and cafés, and many of the choicest and
most expensive shops. Several of these were visited, and many presents
were sent back to the hotel for friends at home.

At noon the Harrises took a simple lunch at one of the popular Duval
restaurants. While the ladies continued their purchases, Colonel Harris
and George visited the Bourse, or exchange, a noble building. Business at
this stock exchange opens at twelve o'clock and closes at three o'clock.
The loud vociferations of brokers, the quick gestures of excited
speculators, and the babel of tongues produced a deafening noise, like
that heard at the stock exchange in New York.

By appointment the ladies called at the exchange, and a coach took the
party to the Place de la Republique, where stands a superb statue of the
Republic, surrounded with seated figures of Liberty, Fraternity, and
Equality. Colonel Harris had often noticed these remarkable words cut
into many of the public buildings of Paris, and he remarked that the
lesson taught by them was as injurious as that taught in the Declaration
of Independence, which declares, that "all men are created equal."

Along the broadest parts of some boulevards and in public parks many
chairs are placed for hire. On all the boulevards are numerous pillars,
and small glass stalls, called kiosques, where newspapers are sold. The
pillars and kiosques are covered with attractive advertisements. In these
kiosques are sold, usually by women and children, many of the 750 papers
and periodicals of Paris. Fifty of these papers are political. The
_Gazette_ is two hundred and sixty-four years old, established in 1631.
_Le Temps_, "The Times," an evening paper, is English-like, and widely
known. _Le Journal des Debats_, "The Journal of Debate," appears in
correct and elegant language, and it usually discusses questions of
foreign as well as of home politics. Papers called _Petite_, or "Little,"
have an immense circulation. Over a half million copies of _Le Petite
Journal_ are sold daily. Frenchmen at home or abroad are not happy
without their _Figaro_, which is read for its news of amusements, spicy
gossip, and the odor of the boulevards. The sensitive and powerful press
of Paris has often provoked political changes and revolutions.

To study better the important revolution for liberty which occurred on
the ever memorable 14th of July, 1789, the Harrises drove along the
boulevard till they approached the Bastille, formerly the site of a
castle, or stronghold, used for a long time as a state prison for the
confinement of persons who fell victims to the caprice of the government.

The graceful bronze July Column is 154 feet in height, and it
commemorates the destruction of the Bastille, symbol of despotism. A
strong desire for independence raised the cry "Down with the Bastille,"
and the advancing tide of revolution overcame the moats, the walls, the
guns, and the garrison, and freedom was victorious. On the column the
names of the fallen "July Heroes" are emblazoned in gilded letters. In
large vaults beneath are buried the heroes of 1789, with the victims of
the later revolution of 1848. The capital of the column is crowned with
an artistic Genius of Liberty standing on a globe, and holding in one
hand the broken chains of slavery, and in the other the torch of
enlightenment.

All the boulevards were crowded with artisans in blue blouses, hurrying
to their homes, as the Harrises drove along the quays to Notre Dame. They
were in time to witness the sun burnish with his golden rays the graceful
spire, the majestic tower, and elegant façade, and to enjoy the harmony
of its grand organ within. To know Notre Dame, founded seven centuries
ago, is to learn well the history of Paris, and to study the monuments of
Paris alone, is to acquire the history of France.

Every day some of the Harris party visited the vast Louvre, the most
important public building of Paris, both architecturally and on account
of its wonderful art treasures which are the most extensive and valuable
in the world. Thus two weeks went swiftly by in sight-seeing, and in
preparation for the marriage.

The private parlors, banquet hall, and several rooms for guests of the
Grand Hotel had been secured for Gertrude's wedding, which was to take
place on George's birthday. Though superstition for ages had placed
birthdays under a ban, yet Gertrude herself preferred this day, and all
concurred. Beautiful presents had already arrived from America, and
letters from schoolmates and friends, several of whom, however, had sent
their presents to Harrisville. Nearly a thousand invitations in all,
mostly to friends in America, had been mailed, including a hundred to
friends traveling on the British Isles, and on the continent. May Ingram
had met in London Claude Searles, son of Hugh Searles, and a graduate of
Oxford University. She had an invitation mailed to Claude, and he
promised to come.

Alfonso and Leo arrived from Holland the night before, and each brought
paintings of their own skill as presents. Alfonso had done an exquisite
full-length portrait of Gertrude in white, the dress, the same that she
wore at Smith College graduation. All wondered about Leo's gift. Gertrude
herself cut the strings, and pushed back the paper, while her sister
Lucille looked first at her own beautiful likeness and then at Leo. Her
face grew crimson, as she said, "Leo, this is just what I most wanted for
Gertrude. Thank you! Thank you!" and she came near kissing the handsome
artist.

The mother had bought a plentiful supply of those things which daughters
most need. The father's gift was the promised check for $1000, and a
mysterious long blue envelope sealed, with the name "Mrs. Gertrude
Ingram" written on the outside. Underneath her name were the tantalizing
words, "To be opened when she reaches New York."

"Oh, I so wonder what is inside," said Gertrude.

May Ingram's gift was unique; a mahogany box, inlaid with the rare
edelweiss, encasing a Swiss phonograph, that was adjusted to play "Elsa's
Dream Song" from Lohengrin on Gertrude's marriage anniversary, till her
golden wedding should occur.

Next morning after the sun had gilded the domes and spires of Paris, the
Harrises sat at breakfast in a private room, fragrant with fresh cut
flowers. Gertrude wore at her throat her lover's gift, and she never
looked prettier or happier. All the morning till 11 o'clock everybody was
busy, when the ushers and friends began to arrive. Soon came the American
ambassador, his wife and children. At 11:45 a bishop of New York City,
Claude Searles of London, and intimate friends of the Harrises and George
Ingram followed, till the private parlors were full.

The orchestra of twenty pieces of Grand Opera House, stationed in the
reception hall, played the "Largo" of Handel. In the third parlor from
the ceiling were suspended ropes or garlands of smilax and bride's roses,
which formed a dainty canopy. White satin ribbons festooned on two rows
of potted marguerites made a bridal pathway direct from the foot of the
stairway to the dais beneath the canopy.

On the low platform stood the bishop and the manly bridegroom expectant,
when a voice at the foot of the stairway, accompanied by three
instruments, sang the Elsa's Dream Song. The wedding party came
downstairs as the orchestra played Wagner's Wedding March. The bride was
dressed in duchess satin of soft ivory tone, the bodice high and long
sleeves, with trimming of jewelled point lace. The bridesmaids wore pale
yellow cloth, with reveres and cuffs of daffodil yellow satin and white
Venetian point. Mrs. Harris wore a gown of heliotrope brocaded silk,
trimmed with rich lace and a bodice of velvet.

The wedding party took their places and Mme. Melba accompanied by piano,
harp, and violin sang Gounod's "Ave Maria."

The bishop addressed a few earnest words to the couple before him, spoke
of responsibilities and obligations, and then the formal questions of
marriage, in distinct voice, were put to George and Gertrude.

Mr. and Mrs. George Ingram received hearty congratulations. The guests
retired to the banquet hall where breakfast was served. One table with
marguerites was reserved for bride and bridegroom, ushers, and
bridesmaids. Before the breakfast was ended the bride and bridegroom had
escaped, but soon returned, the bride in a traveling gown of blue cloth.
Volleys of rice followed the bridal pair, and more rice pelted the
windows of the coach as it drove to the express train which was to convey
the happy pair to Fontainebleau for a day, and thence into Switzerland.
In the evening Colonel Harris entertained a large party of friends at the
new opera house. The Harrises next morning left for southern France.

Before the marriage day George and Gertrude had carefully provided in
Paris for the welfare of May Ingram whom both loved. And well they might,
for May had a noble nature, and her music teachers in Boston, who had
exerted their best efforts in her behalf, believed that she possessed
rare talents, which, if properly developed, would some day make her
conspicuous in the American galaxy of primadonnas.

They had secured for May sunny rooms at a pension in the Boulevard
Haussmann, where a motherly French woman resided with her two daughters.
In beautiful Paris, May Ingram was to live and study, hoping to realize
the dreams of her childhood, a first rank in grand opera.




CHAPTER XX

ABOARD THE YACHT "HALLENA"


Before leaving Paris Colonel Harris was solicitous that his son Alfonso
should accompany him to Rome, and Leo urged the artistic advantage of a
trip to Italy, but Alfonso had attractions in Holland of which the father
knew not. Leo, of course, had his suspicion, but did not wish to betray
his friend, and so Alfonso returned to the Netherlands ostensibly to
study art.

Before leaving New York it was frequently stated by Leo that when he
reached Rome he hoped to be able to even up favors with Alfonso by a
series of visits among his relatives, the famous Colonna family. While
Leo regretted seriously to lose this opportunity, he was quick to see
that the change of plans would leave him much in Lucille's company, the
thing that gave him most pleasure. Lucille before leaving Harrisville had
a severe attack of the grip, and Mrs. Harris hoped the journey abroad
would prove beneficial to her health.

The ocean voyage had brought the roses back to her cheeks, but the
railway trips, the over-work of sight-seeing, and especially the
excitement of the Paris wedding, had renewed frequent complaints of heart
difficulty, and at night Lucille was restless and failed to secure
satisfactory sleep. Of course the mother was anxious, and was glad when
the express arrived at Nice, on the Mediterranean. Fortunately this was
not the fashionable season, so quiet quarters were secured overlooking
the terraced promenade, the small harbor open to the southeast, and the
smooth sea beyond. Here Mrs. Harris hoped that her daughter would
speedily recover her health.

Nice is charmingly situated in a small plain near the French frontier at
the foot of the triple-ridged mountains, which shelter the city on the
north and east against northern winds, while the river Paglion bounds
Nice on the west. Far beyond stretch the snow-clad peaks of the Maritime
Alps.

In the cold season thousands of foreigners, especially the English, visit
this winter paradise. On the high background are Roman ruins and an old
castle enclosed by bastioned walls; leading to two squares, one of which
is surrounded with porticoes, are streets embellished with theater,
public library, baths, and handsome homes that are frescoed externally.
In Nice the patriot Garibaldi first saw the light, and just above the
town on a sunny hillside lies buried the illustrious Gambetta.

Lucille was soon able to sit on the portico and watch the vessels in the
harbor come and go, also parties of excursionists in pleasure boats, and
well dressed people in the shade of the great palms on the adjacent
promenade. Thus hours went pleasantly by while Leo often played
delightfully on his guitar.

Few if any places in the world are like the Riviera where in winter
months royalty and aristocracy gather. Here come the gay world of fashion
and the delicate in health to beg of death a respite of a few more days.
The physician in attendance upon Lucille advised much outdoor air, and
frequent coach rides along the shore were taken to Cannes, to Monaco, and
Mentone.

In the seaport town of Cannes, a bright gem set in groves of olives and
oranges, Napoleon landed from Elba on the first of March, 1815. The
tri-color of France was again thrown to the breeze, and en route to Paris
Napoleon received on every hand the renewed allegiance of officers and
garrisons. The French were wild with excitement, but Europe was filled
with amazement. Again France was conquered without the shedding of blood,
a victory unparalleled in history.

Lucille particularly enjoyed the ride of eight miles east along the
peaceful Mediterranean, also the visit to Monaco, capital of the
principality of its own name, with an area of about 34,000 acres. Monaco
is beautifully situated on a promontory in the sea, and has an attractive
palace and cultivated terraces. The ruling prince resides here six months
and at Paris the other six months.

Monte Carlo is a veritable bit of paradise so far as nature and art can
work wonders. Around this famous gambling resort grow aloes, orange
trees, and tufted palms. Within the handsome casino weak humanity of all
nationalities is allured by glittering promises of wealth. No wonder
a dozen or more suicides occur every month.

It was three o'clock on the sixth day of the stay at Nice, when Colonel
Harris sitting on the porch of the hotel and using a marine glass,
discovered to the southwest a tiny craft rapidly approaching Nice. For
three days he had been anxiously watching and waiting for the arrival of
the "Hallena," built at Harrisville for the son of his special friend Mr.
Harry Hall.

Before leaving Paris, Harry Hall Jr. had invited the colonel's family to
coast along the Mediterranean in his new yacht. It was arranged that the
"Hallena" should touch at Nice and take aboard the colonel's family.
Young Mr. Hall was to rejoin his yacht at Gibraltar, and doubtless he was
now aboard.

The colonel grew nervous as he observed the approach of the little boat.
It had been agreed between Harris and Hall that the yacht would fly the
Union Jack at the bow, the national banner at the flag-staff, and a
streamer bearing the yacht's name at the mast-head.

As the colonel again wiped the dust from his glasses, Lucille said,
"Father, please let me try the glass, perhaps my eyes are better." While
Lucille eagerly looked toward the yacht, Leo watched every motion, as the
mention of young Hall's name in connection with his great wealth had
awakened jealousy in his heart.

Suddenly Lucille shouted, "There she is! I can see the stars and stripes;
how welcome is the dear old flag, we see it abroad so rarely!"

"Hasten, Leo," said the colonel, "and ask the hotel proprietor to raise
the stars and stripes over his hotel."

Colonel Harris had promised Mr. Hall to do this, and so advise him where
the Harris family were stopping. No sooner was the red, white, and blue
given to the breeze above the hotel, than a puff of white smoke was seen
on the yacht, and then came the report of a gun in response to Harris's
flag signal. Bills were paid at once, and the Harrises took carriage down
to the landing. As the "Hallena" glided in between the piers, she was as
graceful as a swan, or as Leo expressed it, "as pretty as a pirate."

Harris himself when at home saw the yacht launched, and he was as proud
of her behavior then as were the officers of the Harrisville Ship
Building Company.

The yacht had now approached so near that Colonel Harris and Harry Hall
saluted each other, and in five minutes the Harris and Hall parties were
exchanging cordial greetings on the deck of the "Hallena." "Captain
Hall," as Harry was known at sea, was very cordial to all. Colonel Harris
was glad again to meet some of his old Harrisville business friends.

Luke Henley and wife were of the Hall party. He was stout, resolute, and
ambitious; his wife womanly and well dressed. Henley early learned that
money was power. Combining what he fell heir to with his wife's fortune,
and what he had made by bold ventures in the steel, ore, and coal trade,
he was enabled to live in a fine villa, overlooking the water, and to
carry on an immense business on the inland lakes.

His business, however, was used as a cover to his real designs in life.
Influential in the local politics of Harrisville he had experienced the
keen pleasure of wielding the silver sceptre of power, and he longed not
only to be the "power behind the throne," but to sit on the throne itself
and guide the Ship of State.

Major Williams also was one of the "Hallena" party. He was young,
slender, and had a cheerful smile for everybody. He had climbed to the
presidency of the Harrisville Bank which had thousands of depositors, and
which wielded a gigantic financial power.

It was decided not to start for Genoa till the next morning. Dinner was
soon announced and Captain Hall offered his arm to Lucille, whom he
placed at his right hand, and Mrs. Harris at his left. The dinner hour
and part of the evening were spent in pleasant reminiscences of what
each had seen since leaving Harrisville. The marriage of George Ingram
and Gertrude was also a suggestive topic, and many agreeable things were
spoken. Captain Hall was present at the Paris wedding, and it was the
stately beauty of Lucille more than all else that prompted him to invite
the Harrises to take the Mediterranean cruise.

Some of the mothers of fine daughters in Harrisville had exhausted their
wits in trying to entrap Harry Hall, who was impartially attentive to
all, but was never known to pay marked attention to any young lady. That
Captain Hall should overlook the other women on the yacht, and place
Lucille at his right hand was so marked that Major Williams after dinner,
lighting his cigar, said, "Henley, why wouldn't Harry and Lucille make a
good match?" "Lucille is a beautiful girl," was all Henley said, and as
the lights of Nice disappeared, the "Hallena" party retired for the
night.

An early breakfast was ordered as everybody wished to be early on deck to
witness the yacht's departure for Genoa. As the "Hallena" responded to
her helm, the United States consul at Nice hoisted and lowered the flag
thrice, as a _bon voyage_ to the American yacht, and the consul queried
whether the American statesman was yet born who was wise enough to
introduce and maintain such a national policy as would multiply his
country's commerce and flag on the sea. Patriotic Americans stopping at
Monaco also responded with flag and gun, as the "Hallena" steamed swiftly
away.

The sun had reached the zenith, when Captain Hall sighted Genoa, and he
called Lucille to stand with him on the bridge. "Superb Genoa! Worthy
birthplace of our Columbus," said Lucille.

"Yes," said Harry, "Genoa is older than Borne; she was the rival of
Venice, and the mother of colonies."

As the "Hallena" approached this strongly fortified city of northern
Italy, the capacious harbor was a forest of masts, and a crazy-quilt of
foreign flags, but not one ship was flying the stars and stripes, a fact
which saddened the hearts of the tourists. The "Hallena" steamed past the
lighthouse and moles that protect the harbor, and all the guests of
Captain Hall stood on the forward deck admiring the city with its
palaces, churches, white blocks, and picturesque villas that occupy land
which gradually rises and recedes from the bay.

On landing, the officials were very courteous, and gave Captain Hall and
his party no trouble when it was learned that that "Hallena" brought
travelers only. The Genoese are very proud of their city and its past
history, and they are courteous to Americans, especially so since the
Columbian World's Fair.

The tourists found the streets in the older part of Genoa narrow, seldom
more than ten feet wide, with lofty buildings on either side. But in the
new portions, especially on the wide Strada Nuova and the Strada Balbi,
the palaces and edifices present fine architecture.

Nearly a day was spent in driving about Genoa with its flower-crowned
terraces. It was after five o'clock when the party stood before the noble
statue of Columbus recently dedicated in a prominent square filled with
palms and flowering shrubs, and near the principal railway station. Here
the statue welcomes the coming and speeds the parting guest. Its design
is admirable. Surmounting a short shaft is Columbus leaning upon an
anchor, and pointing with his right hand to the figure of America; below
him are discerned encircling the shaft ornaments symbolic of Columbus's
little fleet, while other statues represent science, religion, courage,
and geography; between them are scenes in bass-relief of his adventurous
career.

Dinner was taken aboard the yacht as it steamed away from Genoa. The
flowers that Harry had bought for Lucille's stateroom she thoughtfully
placed on the table, and with the porcelain they added artistic effect.
The day's experiences were reviewed, and, as the appetizing courses
were served, the conversation drifted back to the World's Columbian Fair
which all had attended. Many of the wonders of the "White City" were
recounted, and Henley in his off-hand manner repeated a compliment
which was paid by a cultivated Parisian who visited the Fair. The
Frenchman said that at the last Paris Exposition, he saw immense and
unsightly structures, such as one might expect to find in far-off
Chicago, but that at the Columbian World's Fair, he beheld buildings
such as his own artistic Paris and France should have furnished; that the
Columbian Fair was an artistic triumph that had never been paralleled
except in the days of imperial Rome by her grand temples, palaces,
arches, bridges, and statues.

"The Parisian is right, and he pays America a most deserved compliment.
Never was so elegant a panorama enrolled as at Chicago," responded
Colonel Harris.

"You are correct, Colonel," said Captain Hall, "the triumph of our
Exposition was largely due to the masterly supervision which evoked
uniformity of design and harmonious groupings by employing only those
of our architects, sculptors, painters, and landscape gardeners, who
possessed the highest skill."

Leo ventured to add that the "White City" seemed to him dream-like and
that under the magical influence of Columbus, as patron-saint, all
nationality, creed, and sex, were harmoniously blended in ideal beauty
and grandeur.

Lucille, who had just sipped the last of her chocolate, also bore
testimony, and Harry watched her admiringly as she said, "At times,
especially in the evening, when thousands of incandescent lights outlined
the Court of Honor with its golden Goddess of the Republic and the
façades, turrets, and domes, it seemed to some of us as if we had stepped
out upon a neighboring planet, where civilization and art had been
purified, or that the veil was lifted and we were gazing upon the
glories of the New Jerusalem."

The ladies now sought the deck of the "Hallena," and were soon followed
by the gentlemen, who smoked their fragrant Havanas, enjoying every
moment's vacation from business anxieties at home. The yacht, like a
slender greyhound, in charge of the first officer was swiftly running
towards the Isle of Elba, en route to Naples. The stars never shone more
brilliantly in the Italian sky, and land breezes were mingling their rich
odors with the salt sea air.

The spell of Columbus's great discovery stirred the soul of Harry Hall.
Holding his half-smoked cigar, he repeated the familiar couplet,

  "Man's inhumanity to man
   Makes countless thousands mourn."

"Strange that four centuries go by before even Genoa erects his monument,
which we have admired to-day; though monuments to the memory of Columbus
have been erected in many cities, yet, how tardy the world was to
appreciate the value of Columbus's discovery, a third of the land of the
globe. How pitiful the last days of Columbus, who, old and ill, returning
in 1504 from his fourth voyage to the new world, found his patroness
Isabella dying, and Ferdinand heartless. With no money to pay his bills,
Columbus died May 20th, 1505, in poor quarters at Valladolid, his last
words being, 'Into thy hands, O Lord, I commit my spirit.' It is now
natural perhaps that many cities should claim his birth and his bones."

"Yes," said Lucille, "how encouraging some of the world's kind epitaphs
would be if they were only spoken before death came. Two hemispheres now
eagerly study the inspiring story of Columbus's faith, courage,
perseverance, and success."

Henley said, "Captain Hall, you are young yet, but by the time you reach
my age you will have little use for the sentiment young people so often
indulge in. When New York tries her hand with expositions she will
doubtless deal with facts. The truth is, Columbus was human like the
rest of us, and followed in the wake of others for his own personal
aggrandizement. He was not the first man to discover America. The
Norsemen antedated him by five centuries."

"What if the Norsemen did first discover America?" said Colonel Harris.
"The discoveries of the vikings were not utilized by civilization. It is
held by the courts that a patent is valid only in the name of the
inventor who first gives the invention a useful introduction. Columbus's
discovery was fortunately made at a time when civilization was able with
men and money to follow up and appropriate its advantages."

"The true discoverer of America," said Henley, "I believe to be Jean
Cousin, a sea captain of Dieppe, France, who crossed the Atlantic and
sailed into the Amazon River in 1488, four years before Columbus reached
San Salvador. Then Spain, Portugal, the States of the Church, Ferdinand,
Isabella, and Columbus attempted to rob Cousin of his bold adventure. In
brief these are the facts: Jean Cousin was an able and scientific
navigator. In 1487 his skill so contributed in securing a naval victory
for the French over the English that the reward for his personal valor
was the gift of an armed ship from the merchants of Dieppe, who expected
him to go forth in search of new discoveries.[A]

[Footnote A: _The True Discovery of America._ Captain R.N. Gambier.
_Fortnightly Review_, January 1, 1894.]

"In January, 1488, Cousin sailed west out into the Atlantic, and south,
for two months with Vincent Pinzon a practical sailor, second in command.
He sailed up the Amazon River, secured strange birds, feathers, spices,
and unknown woods, and returned to the coast of Africa for a cargo of
ivory, oil, skins, and gold dust. Pinzon quarreled with the natives,
fired upon them, and seized some of their goods, so that they fled and
would not come back to him. He thus lost a valuable return cargo. At
Dieppe the merchants were enraged; Pinzon was tried by court martial for
imperilling the trade of Africa, and banished from French soil. He
thirsted for revenge and went back to Palos to tell his brothers Alonzo
and Martin, shipowners, of the mighty Amazon; often they speculated as to
the vast lands which the Amazon drained.

"Columbus, discouraged, ridiculed, and begging his way, started out to
meet at Huelva his brother-in-law and secure promised help, so that he
could visit France. Suddenly he changed his route, stopped at the little
convent La Rabida, met Juan Perez, who knew Queen Isabella, and Fernandez
the priest, the latter a close friend of the three Pinzon brothers.
Columbus got what he wanted at court, returned to Palos, and with the
Pinzon brothers sailed west, with Vincent Pinzon, Cousin's shipmate, as
pilot. The conclusion that Jean Cousin, and not Columbus first discovered
America, seems irresistible. Pope Alexander VI., by Papal bull, had
already divided all the new discoveries made, between Catholic Spain and
Portugal. Dieppe and France were in the Pope's black books. What chance
of recognition had Cousin against Columbus, the protégé of this Pope?"

"You seem to win your case," said Major Williams, "what romance in
history will be left us? William Tell is now a myth, and Washington's
little hatchet story is no more."

Lucille quieted Leo with a smile, cigars were thrown overboard, the light
on the Isle of Elba was visible, and all retired for the night, while the
alert yacht, like a whirring night-hawk, flew on towards Naples.

On the yacht "Hallena" early to bed and early to rise was an unwritten
law. By six o'clock next morning, breakfast had been served, and the
tourists were on deck with glasses, each anxious to discover objects of
interest. During the night busy Leghorn on the coast, and Pisa, and
Florence up the Arno, were left behind. Leo was proud of sunny and
artistic Italy and he much desired that Lucille should see at Pisa the
famous white marble leaning tower, with its beautiful spiral colonnades;
its noble cathedral and baptistry, the latter famous for its wonderful
echo, and the celebrated cemetery made of earth brought from the Holy
Land. At Florence she should see the stupendous Duomo, with the
Brunelleschi dome that excited the emulation of Michael Angelo; the
bronze gates of Ghiberti, "worthy to be the gates of paradise," and the
choice collections of art in the Pitti Palace and the Uffizi Gallery
connected by Porte Vecchio. But Leo contented himself with the thought
that when the yacht episode was over, and Harry Hall had passed out of
sight, he could then take Lucille over Italy to enjoy a thousand-and-one
works of art, including masterpieces by such artists as Michael Angelo,
Raphael, Titian, Correggio, Guido, and others.

Lucille had studied art in Boston, and she was fond of Leo because he
passionately loved art and could assist her. She began to comprehend what
Aristotle meant when he defined art as "the reason of the thing, without
the matter," or Emerson, "the conscious utterance of thought, by speech,
or action, to any end."




CHAPTER XXI

TWO UNANSWERED LETTERS


During the night the yacht "Hallena" had steamed down through the Channel
Piombino, and the Tuscan Archipelago, studded with islands, and had
passed Rome, the Eternal City.

"Naples cannot be far off," thought Leo, for to the southeast is seen the
smoking torch of Mt. Vesuvius, southwest is the island of Ischia with its
extinct volcano, and beyond is Cape Miseno. The "Hallena" cautiously felt
her way among the luxuriant islands that guard the broad and beautiful
Bay of Naples and the Siren City. Her passengers had ample opportunity
to study the attractions of this justly celebrated locality.

Vesuvius, reflected in the smooth waters of the bay, lifts high her peak,
the ascending smoke coloring the white clouds above. At her feet lies
ancient Hurculaneum, submerged on the 24th of August, A.D. 79, by a flood
of molten lava.

Nearer the bay and only five miles from the volcano, is ancient Pompeii,
which was overwhelmed by the same eruption of Vesuvius. Pompeii was
buried, not with lava, but with tufa, ashes and scoriæ, and since 1755
has thus been the more easily and extensively uncovered. This ancient
Roman city was enclosed by walls and entered by several gates. Its
numerous streets were paved with lava. The traveler of to-day beholds
uncovered the one story and terraced houses, shops, mansions, the market
place, temples, theatres, and baths. In some of the houses were found
furniture, statues, paintings, books, medals, urns, jewels, utensils,
manuscripts, etc., all less injured than one would suppose.

Today more modern towns are located about the curved shore of this
unrivaled bay. The sparkling waters, the winding shore, the bold cliffs,
the threatening lava cone, the buried cities, all combine under the
bluest skies to make the Bay of Naples a Mecca for worshipers of the
beautiful.

On the deck of the "Hallena" stood the group of American tourists,
enchanted with the picturesque environment of historic Naples. The city
is built along the shore and up the sides of adjacent mountains. A mole,
with lighthouse, projects into the bay and forms a small harbor.

The sun had climbed towards the zenith, and shone full upon this fair
city, as the yacht entered the harbor. Many of the buildings are white,
five or six stories in height, with flat roofs covered with plants and
shrubbery. If the weather is favorable the inmates resort at sunset to
their roof-gardens to enjoy lovely views and the cool breezes from the
bay.

The Spiaggia, a popular thoroughfare, is adorned with statues, and
extends along the shore to the Tomb of Virgil, and the mole. It is
crowded every evening with Neapolitans in equipages, some elegant, and
some grotesque.

Two or three days were spent in studying the palaces and art galleries of
Naples. Of special interest is the national Museo Borbonico, which is
remarkable for its collection of antiquities. In the palmy days of Borne,
Naples was a luxurious retreat for emperors and wealthy citizens of the
great empire. Naples was the scene of a most disgraceful outrage in May,
1848, when it was plundered by the Lazzaroni, or Begging Community, and
fifteen hundred lives were lost.

When the sight-seeing in Naples was completed Captain Hall offered to
take the Harrises in his yacht back to Rome, but his offer was declined.
Good-byes were cordially exchanged and the "Hallena" steamed south to
Palermo, en route to Athens and other Levantine cities, while the
Harrises took the express for Rome.

Leo was glad to see the "Hallena" steam away, and to be with Lucille
aboard a train moving towards Rome. When the station in the eastern part
of the city was reached, a carriage conveyed the Harrises along the Corso
which at the hour of their driving was enlivened by many vehicles and
foot-passengers.

Leo told Lucille of the popular festivals at Rome, especially of the
Carnival that extends over several days, which consists of daily
processions in the Corso, accompanied by the throwing of bouquets and
comfits; the whole concluding with a horse race from the Piazza del
Popolo to Piazza di Venezia, upwards of a mile. On the last, or the
Moccoli evening, tapers are lighted immediately after sunset. Balconies
most suitable for observing these animated scenes are expensive, but
always in great demand, especially by tourists.

Colonel Harris took his family and Leo to an excellent hotel on the
Piazza de Popolo. The weather being uncomfortably warm, it was decided
to spend only a few days in the city, and go as soon as possible to the
country. Leo was very familiar with Rome, ancient and modern, and he
felt that weeks were absolutely necessary to study and comprehend the
grandeur of a city that for so many centuries had been mistress of the
world. He agreed with Niebuhr, "As the streams lose themselves in the
mightier ocean, so the history of the people once distributed along the
Mediterranean shores is absorbed in that of the mighty mistress of the
world."

Leo back again in Rome was in an ecstasy of joy. Here Greece had laid at
the feet of Rome her conqueror, the accumulated art treasures of ages.
Here Leo could have keenest delight, where he moved among the noblest
examples of antique sculpture, which filled the galleries and chambers of
the Vatican and Capitol. Most of the night he lay awake, planning how he
could in so short a time exhibit to his American friends Rome and her
wealth of art. At breakfast he said, "A whole day is needed to inspect
the Forum Romanum, a day each, for the Capitoline Hill, the Appian Way,
and many other historic localities in this seven-hilled city."

Leo, acting as guide, took his party to the Pincian Hill near the
northern wall, a fashionable resort with fine boulevards and frequent
band music. From the summit, he pointed out the yellow Tiber, which winds
for seventeen miles to the sea. The larger part of modern Rome lies on
the left bank of the Tiber, and covers three historic hills. Towering
above the tops of the buildings are the domes and spires of nearly four
hundred churches of which the dome of St. Peter's is the most imposing.
In sight beyond are the Capitol, the ruins of the Colosseum, and ancient
tombs along the Appian Way. To the west on the Palatine Hill are the
ruins of the palace of the Cæsars, and outside the walls, on the broad
Campagna, are the remains of several aqueducts converging on the city,
some of which, restored, are in use to-day.

The day's ride included a visit to Agrippa's Pantheon, now denuded of its
bronze roofing and marble exterior. A circular opening in the huge dome
admits both light and rain. Leo standing with Lucille by the tomb of
Raphael in one of the recesses, for a moment was silent. Then he said,
"Lucille, it is impossible to fully appreciate the many and beautiful
works of this 'prince of painters.' He was born on Good Friday, 1483, and
lived exactly thirty-seven years. He was of slight build, sallow, and had
brown eyes. Over nine hundred prints of his works are known. Besides his
works in fresco at the Vatican, for a time he had charge of the
construction of St. Peter's, and he also painted masterpieces now at
Bologna, Dresden, Madrid, Hampton Court, and executed numerous
commissions for Leo X.; and Madonnas, holy families, portraits, etc.,
for others. Raphael stands unrivaled, chiefly in his power to portray
lofty sentiments which persons of all nationalities can feel, but few
can describe. He also excelled in invention, composition, simplicity
and grandeur. For moral force in allegory and history, and for fidelity
in portrait, Raphael was unsurpassed. His last and most celebrated oil
picture, the transfiguration, unfinished, stood at his head as his body
lay in state."

Colonel Harris was interested in the restored Triumphal Arch of Titus
erected to commemorate the defeat of the Jews A.D. 70, also in the
beautiful Arch to Severus. At the end of the Rostra, or Orators' Tribune
was the Umbilicus Urbis Romae, or ideal center of Rome and the Roman
Empire. True it was that all roads led to Rome. Leo and Lucille visited
by moonlight the ruins of the great Colosseum, and the lights and shadows
in the huge old stone and brick amphitheater, made it look all the more
imposing and picturesque.

On the morning of the second day Leo Colonna guided his friends down the
Via di Ripetta, stopping at the Mausoleum of Augustus, which in the
middle ages was used by the Colonnas as a fortress. Then continuing down
the left bank of the Tiber, the Ponte S. Angelo was reached. This ancient
bridge of five arches leads directly to the Castello S. Angelo, the
citadel of Rome, which originally was a tomb erected by Hadrian for
himself and successor. The tomb is 240 feet in diameter, and must have
been very beautiful, as it was once encrusted with marble. Statues stood
around the margin of the top, and above all a colossal statue of Hadrian
himself. Later the Goths, veritable iconoclasts, converted this tomb of
the emperors into a fortress, hurling the marble statues down on the
besiegers. For centuries this castle-tomb was used as a stronghold by
the party in power to maintain their sway over the people. In 1822 Pius
IX. refortified the castle. In it was seen the gloomy dungeon where
Beatrice Cenci and others were incarcerated.

The Harrises drove down the Borgo Nuovo to the church of St. Peter. Its
approach is through a magnificent piazza ornamented on the right and left
by two semicircular porticoes of 284 columns, which are surmounted by an
entablature, and 192 statues, each eleven feet in height. It is claimed
that the origin of the Cathedral of St. Peter is due to the impulse
given by Pope Julius II. who decided to erect a grand monument for
himself in his life-time, and the new edifice was needed to shield it.
St. Peter's was begun in 1506 and dedicated in 1626.

Bramante's wonderful plans were accepted, and both Michael Angelo and
Raphael aided in its construction. From a Greek cross rises a gigantic
dome, which is one of the boldest and most wonderful efforts of
architecture. Lucille recalled Byron's description,

  "The vast and wondrous dome,
   To which Diana's marvel was a cell."

Entering this mighty cathedral, Colonel Harris was bewildered with its
grand and harmonious interior. The height from the pavement to the cross
rivals the height of the Washington monument. The nave is 607 feet in
length, and the transept is 445 feet. St. Paul's at London covers only
two acres, St. Peter's five acres. The cost of the former was $3,750,000,
the cost of the latter from $60,000,000 to $80,000,000.

The Harrises visited St. John Lateran, the mother-church of the Eternal
City, where Popes were crowned, and where on Ascension Day, from one of
its balconies, the Pope's benediction to the people is pronounced.

They also visited the restored St. Paul's Church outside the walls. Its
interior is of vast dimensions. It was built of valuable materials, and
the whole is very imposing. Especially was Lucille impressed with the
long series of portrait medallions of all the Popes from St. Peter to Leo
X. worked in mosaic above the polished columns.

Many monuments in St. Peter's were erected to the memory of several of
the famous Popes. The Vatican, the largest palace in Europe, is where the
Popes came to reside after their return from Avignon, France, in 1377,
for here they felt much security in the vicinity of the Castle S. Angelo,
with which it communicated by a covered gallery. For a time the Popes
vied with each other in enlarging and embellishing the Vatican, which
covers an immense space, and is a collection of separate buildings; the
length is 1150 feet, and the breath 767 feet. The Vatican is said to
contain 20 courts, and 11,000 halls, chapels, salons, and private
apartments, most of which are occupied by collections and show-rooms,
while only a small part is set apart for the papal court.

The Harrises visited the most celebrated portions of the Vatican; the
Scala Regia, covered with frescoes of events in Papal history, the
Sistine Chapel, adorned with fine frescoes by Michael Angelo, including
the Last Judgment. Here the Cardinals meet to elect the Pope, and here
many of the most gorgeous ceremonies of the Roman Catholic Church are
performed.

Equally enthusiastic were Leo and Lucille over Raphael's superb frescoes
in the Loggie, and in the chambers adjoining. The few pictures in the
gallery are scarcely surpassed. The museum contains some of the noblest
treasures of art, including the Laocoon, and Apollo Belvidere. The
library is very valuable. The superb palace of the Quirinal has beautiful
gardens.

Besides the several elegant public palaces in Rome, there are in and near
the city over sixty private palaces or villas; the finest of which is the
Barberini Palace. Several of the villas are located above terraces amid
orange and citron groves, and they are ornamented with statues and
fountains. Leo with pride took his friends to see the Colonna Palace,
which contained many old portraits of his family.

After dinner a drive was taken outside the Porta del Popolo to the
magnificent Villa Borghese and the Pincian Hill. It was planned to visit
on the morrow the gallery Borghese, next to the Vatican, the most
important in Rome. It was dark as Leo returned with his party to the
hotel. The landlord handed him a gentleman's card which read,

  Mr. Ferdinand Francisco Colonna.
  Piazza Colonna, Rome.

The landlord said that this gentleman was waiting for Leo in the
reception-room. Leo at once recognized the card as that of his cousin,
who was an attorney in Rome, and he hurried to meet his relative. They
grasped hands warmly, and soon were in earnest conversation.

Ferdinand, taking a large official envelope from his pocket, opened it
and began reading what he called a very important paper. It was a copy
of the will of their rich uncle, who had just died, while inspecting
his possession in Sicily. Leo Colonna bore the name of this uncle, his
father's oldest brother, who was fond of art, and who was never married.
He had always been attached to Leo, his nephew, and in his will Leo was
made his sole heir. Great was Leo's surprise to learn that he was now not
only the owner of a fine palace southeast of Rome, but of large
possessions in Rome, Sicily, and South America.

Leo leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed, his face changed color
and the muscles of his hands and face twitched as if he were in pain.
Suddenly he recovered possession of himself and said, "Ferdinand, you
almost paralyze me by the news you bring. Am I dreaming, or not?"

"No, no, Leo. This is a copy of the will of our uncle. The original will
is in my safe. By this same will I am to have 100,000 lira for assisting
you. I am now at your service."

"Ferdinand, you bring sad and glorious news. What is your advice?"

"That we file the original will at once in the proper court, and that you
proceed with me immediately to Marino to take possession there of your
palace and property."

"Agreed, Ferdinand. We will leave Rome for Marino at noon tomorrow.
Meet me here, as I may have friends to join us."

Leo hastened at once to tell the good news to the Harrises, who were
nearly as much elated as himself, and it was agreed that all would join
Leo in his proposed trip. It was late that night when Leo and Lucille
separated in the parlor below. Each had dreamed of castles in Spain, but
now it looked as if Leo and possibly Lucille, might actually possess
castles in Italy.

That night Leo told Lucille much about the princely Colonna family of
Italy, which originated in the 11th century. Pope Martin V., several
others who took part in the contest between the Guelphs and the
Ghibellines, and many others of the Colonna family had attained to
historical and literary distinction.

Lucille was interested in the story of the great naval battle of Lepanto
in which Marc Antonio Colonna aided Don Juan of Austria to gain a
world-renowned victory for Christianity against the Turks, the first
effective triumph of the cross over the crescent. Leo recited the story
of the life of the illustrious Vittoria Colonna, pictures of a bust of
whom Lucille had seen that day in Rome.

Vittoria, and the son of the Marquis of Pescara, when children four years
old, were affianced, and in their seventeenth year they were married. The
young bride bravely sent her husband to the wars with a pavilion, an
embroidered standard, and palm leaves, expressing the hope that he
would return with honors, for she was proud of the Colonna name.

Vittoria full of genius and grace, idealized her young showy cavalier,
who was gallant and chivalrous. Her brave knight Pescara, among other
victories, won the battle of Pavia, and finally died of his wounds in
Milan before she could reach his side. Vittoria Colonna buried her love
in Pescara's grave at Naples. Her widowhood was a period of sorrow, song,
friendship, and saintly life. She was tall, stately, and dignified; of
gracious manners, and united much charm with her culture and virtue. She
is considered the fairest and noblest lady of the Italian Renaissance.

Vittoria Colonna was on intimate terms with the great men and women of
her day, and in close sympathy with the Italian reformers. Michael Angelo
was warmly her friend. His strong verses full of feeling to Vittoria were
replied to in gentle, graceful strains. She died as the sun sank in the
Mediterranean on the afternoon of February 25, 1547, Michael Angelo
regretting as he saw her, lying on her death-bed, that he had not kissed
her forehead and face as he had kissed her hand.

As Lucille retired that night she felt the force of Vittoria's noble
life, and longed to emulate one so related to her friend Leo. She felt
her own heart drawing nearer to Leo's, and in the silent hours of the
night, she sometimes wondered if she should ever bear the honored name of
Colonna.

Next day at 12 o'clock promptly, Leo's cousin came, and the Harrises and
Leo took the Rome and Naples line for Marino, located sixteen miles
southeast of Rome, where Vittoria Colonna had lived, and where Leo
expected to find and take possession of his own palace and property.

The Roman tombs of the Via Appia on the right were soon left behind.
A dozen miles out and Frascate a summer resort was conspicuous with
its many lovely villas. Later the party left the train and enjoyed a
beautiful drive of three miles to Marino, a small town famous for its
wine, and located on the Alban Mountains. In the middle ages, the Orsini
defended themselves here in a stronghold against their enemies the
Colonna, but the latter under Martin V. captured Marino, which with the
surrounding country has remained a fief of the Colonna family to the
present day.

Ferdinand had already attended to much of the detail at Marino, so that
Leo, as owner of the vast Colonna estate, was loyally received by the
villagers, the tenants, and the old servants. Leo made his friends, the
Harrises, most welcome at his unexpected and palatial home. The Harrises
were delighted at what they saw. Leo and Lucille took several drives
together over the large estate. Once they drove along the shady roads,
commanding extensive views, through the beautiful park of Colonna, and
down a well wooded valley to the clear waters of the Alban Lake. Often
Leo wished that Alfonso had accompanied him.

For some time before leaving Rome, Lucille had complained of a dull
headache and chills at night. In France Mrs. Harris was fearful that the
summer trip to Italy was not wise, but Leo and her family thought the
yacht voyage to Naples would be charming. On the morning of the third
day at Marino, Lucille was unable to leave her bed. Leo hastily called a
physician who found her pulse very low. She experienced great thirst and
nausea, and the heat of her body was much increased. When the doctor
learned that Colonel Harris's daughter had slept in Rome with the window
open, he at once declared to the family that Lucille had Roman fever,
that dreaded malaria which is engendered in summer months near the
marshes of Italy. Leo summoned to Marino the ablest physicians of Rome,
who were in constant attendance, and heroic treatment was adopted.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Harris were half crazed with the fear of losing
their beautiful daughter, and Leo himself was nearly frantic. Lucille
grew rapidly worse. Her strength and courage failed her, she became
unconscious, and as the tall white lily in the midday sun loses its
beauty and life, so Lucille passed from earth, her agonizing mother
holding the dead daughter's slender white hands.

Leo fell insensible and was removed from the death-chamber by his
servants. Womanly courage returned to the mother after a few moments of
intense grief, and aided by others the necessary preparations were made
for the removal of Lucille to America.

Captain Harry Hall with his yacht en route to Athens had called at
Brindisi to get a reply from a most important letter of his mailed to
Lucille at Palermo. As he stepped ashore a telegram was handed him
announcing the sudden death of the woman he loved. He was so shocked that
his friends were alarmed. After a short conference Harry wired Colonel
Harris the use of his yacht to carry back to America the remains of
beautiful Lucille.

While Colonel Harris was writing an acceptance of Captain Hall's
services, a second telegram came announcing the death, by drowning, of
his only son Alfonso in the Zuider Zee at Amsterdam. How true that
misfortunes never come singly!

Beneath the pillow on which Lucille died, were found two unanswered
letters, proposals of marriage, one from Leo and one from Captain Hall.
The broken hearted mother took charge of these letters, and before the
metallic coffin was sealed, the unanswered letters were placed in
Lucille's white hand, over the heart that could not now decide.

Later the casket was put on board the yacht "Hallena" at Rome, and
Captain Hall with his flag at half-mast steamed towards America with the
woman, who could never on earth accept the tribute of his heart. Leo, now
Marquis Colonna, true chevalier that he was, insisted that he be
permitted to accompany Colonel Harris to Amsterdam in search of his son
Alfonso.




CHAPTER XXII

COLONEL HARRIS'S BIG BLUE ENVELOPE


The honeymoon of George and Gertrude included not only the two delightful
weeks in Switzerland, but also the ten or twelve days on a slow steamer
returning to New York. The weather at sea was all that could be desired.
The longer a smooth sea-voyage, the better lovers are pleased. Return
ocean passages usually furnish the much needed rest after a so-called
vacation abroad. Overworked Americans need, not so much an entire
cessation of activities, as a change of occupation, which usually, brings
the desired results.

George and Gertrude made but few acquaintances on the steamer. The
thought that each possessed the other was enjoyment that satisfied, and
both were happy. Each lived as in dreamland, and scarcely observed even
the daily runs made by the steamer. The death by accident of a sailor,
and his strange burial at sea, served only for a brief time to arrest a
happiness made complete by each other's voice and presence. The two weeks
on the ocean came and went as softly as flowers unfold and disappear.
Thus far, married life had been ideal.

It was after eleven o'clock, and anxious passengers were pacing the
decks, hoping to sight native land before retiring. Suddenly the officer
on the bridge discerned the dim Fire Island Light, bearing north by west,
twenty miles distant. Ten minutes later, five points on the port bow, a
pilot boat was sighted. Her mast-head light was visible, also the torch,
which soaked in turpentine, burnt brightly at intervals.

The steamer signals, "We want a pilot," by burning a blue light on the
bridge, and bears down on the pilot schooner. The moon reveals enormous
figures, with a heavy dot beneath, on the mainsail of the schooner. Over
the rail goes the yawl, followed by the oarsman and pilot, whose turn
it is to go ashore. The pilot carries a lantern, which in the egg-shaped
yawl dances on the white wave crests up and down like a fire-fly. The
yawl is soon under the steamer's lee, and a line from the big ship pulls
the little boat to the ladder, and the pilot nimbly climbs to the
steamer's bridge, bringing the latest papers. The schooner drifts under
the steamer's stern, takes in the yawl, and again sails to the eastward
in search of another liner.

The entrance to the port of New York is patrolled night and day by a
pilot-fleet of thirty boats, which cost from $10,000 to $20,000 each.
They are staunch and seaworthy, the fastest schooners afloat. Often,
knocked down by heavy seas, for a moment they tremble, like a frightened
bird, then shaking the water off their decks, they rise, heave to,
perhaps under double reefed foresail, and with everything made snug,
outride the storm, and are at their work again. Pilots earn good pay, and
this they deserve, as they often risk their lives in behalf of others.

Sandy Hook Light was now in sight, and long before the sun began his
journey across the heavens, the steamer lay at anchor at quarantine,
waiting for a certificate from the health officer. As the steamer proudly
sped through "The Narrows," a jubilant crowd of passengers on the
promenade deck sang,

  "My country 'tis of thee
   Sweet Land of Liberty,
   Of thee I sing;
   Land where my fathers died;
   Land of the pilgrim's pride;
   From ev'ry mountain side
   Let freedom ring."

The hymn was sung to the tune of "God Save the Queen," and several
enthusiastic Englishmen joined with their kith and kin.

On Bedloe's Island Bartholdi's Statue of Liberty waved her torch, outward
bound steamers exchanged salutes, the Brooklyn Bridge and all the ferries
were thronged with people hurrying to the labor marts of the metropolis,
as the steamer with George and Gertrude aboard moved up the harbor and
was safely docked on the North River.

In the lead down the gangway Gertrude hastened George to secure a
carriage for their hotel, so anxious was she to reach rooms on American
soil, where she might honorably break the seal of her father's mysterious
big blue envelope. It had rarely been out of her mind since the day of
her wedding in Paris.

After breakfast, served in true American style, the Ingrams glanced at
the big morning papers crowded with American news, and wondered why
European papers printed so little about the States. Then they retired to
their rooms to break the seal of the blue envelope.

George was all attention as his young wife with the flush of health and
excitement in her cheeks tore apart the envelope, and stepping to the
window for better light, she began to read Reuben Harris's letter.

  Paris--

  _Dear George and Gertrude_,--

  The accumulation of my fortune, now largely invested in prime
  securities, has been a surprise and often a burden to me, and with it
  came, as I now clearly see, great responsibilities.

  Money is power, and most people zealously seek it. Many fail to get it,
  and often those who do succeed, fail to keep it. Wealth unsought comes
  only to a few, while others, with perhaps hereditary financial
  instincts, pursue with certainty of success the golden fleece.

  My early experiences with poverty, and now with wealth, and my late
  extensive observations have impressed upon me, as never before, the
  common brotherhood of mankind. The great problem of our age is the
  proper administration of wealth, so that the ties of brotherhood may
  still bind together the rich and poor in harmonious relations. What
  shall be the laws of accumulation and distribution? To decide this
  wisely the discretion of our present and future legislators will be
  heavily burdened.

  The condition of many races is better to-day on the foundations on
  which society is built, than on the old ones tried and abandoned. What
  were yesterday's luxuries are to-day's necessities. The poor enjoy
  to-day what yesterday even the rich could not afford. Mankind always
  has exhibited great irregularities. In every race some are born with an
  energy and ability to produce wealth, others not. Invention and
  discovery have replaced scarcity and dearness with abundance and
  cheapness. The law of competition seems to cheapen comforts and
  luxuries.

  Both labor and capital are organizing, concentrating, competing. The
  idealist may dream of what is attainable in the future, but our duty is
  plainly with what is practicable now. My prayer is for wisdom and
  ability to administer wisely our wealth, during my life-time. I am
  therefore resolved to act as follows:--

  1st. To retain for my family only what will provide modestly for them
  all. I do not wish to leave much property for my relatives to use
  prodigally, or to quarrel over.

  2nd. I plan not to wait till I die and then leave behind for public
  purposes money which I cannot take with me. I shall consider myself as
  an agent, or trustee, in charge of certain surplus funds to be expended
  in behalf of my poorer brethren.

  On our return to America, Mrs. Harris and I will make our wills in
  accordance with the above. It is our desire that, when you reach home,
  you both enter at once upon the development of your plans, of a
  cooperative manufacturing corporation, in accordance with the views
  which you have so frequently mentioned. In the execution of these
  plans, you may use, if necessary, five millions. With best wishes for
  your happiness.

  Your father,

  Reuben Harris.

The writing of this letter gave Colonel Harris more pleasure than any act
of his life; in fact it was for him the beginning of a new life; a life
for others.

The reading of the letter also gave George and Gertrude much happiness,
for it furnished them abundant means for the execution of their
beneficent plans, which had been thoroughly considered by the Harris
family. This important letter was returned to the blue envelope and given
to Gertrude for safe keeping, and it was agreed to leave for Harrisville
next day at 1 o'clock on the Chicago Special.

Among the personals in the Harrisville Sunday paper appeared the
following:

  Arrived from Europe Saturday morning, Mr. and Mrs. George Ingram. It is
  needless to say that their many friends will give them cordial welcome.
  Colonel and Mrs. Reuben Harris, their son and daughter, Alfonso and
  Lucille, will remain in Europe for several weeks.

This notice, though brief, was of much interest to rich and poor in
Harrisville. Society, of course, was interested in the marriage of
Gertrude, business men in the return of so skilled a manufacturer as
George Ingram, and many workmen, still unemployed, hoped that their old
superintendent whom they loved would find or make positions for them.

The continued absence of Colonel Harris the financier aided George Ingram
in certain important negotiations which he proceeded quietly to make,
viz., the purchase in the suburbs of Harrisville, in fifty parcels, of
4,000 acres of contiguous land, that had both a river and a lake front.
While these purchases were being made, agents were dispatched into
several Ohio counties, and more than 20,000 acres of well tested coal
lands were secured. When it was learned that all these lands were bought
in the name of George Ingram, and paid for in cash, the wisacres of the
city began to say, "I told you so; these monopolists having visited
England have adopted foreign ideas, and now they have returned to buy and
hold our valuable lands." George Ingram was reticent, as most successful
business men are, for he gave attention to business. "Talkers are no
great doers," wrote Shakespeare.

The offices of the old Harrisville Iron & Steel Co. had been rented to
other parties, so a suite of rooms near by was occupied by George Ingram
and his five assistants. It had leaked out, however, that Ingram had
given orders for twenty millions of brick and a large quantity of
structural iron and copper tubes, all to be delivered within four months.
The order for copper tubes puzzled even the wisest in Harrisville. Later,
when a thousand laborers were set at work on the river front of
his purchase, building extensive foundations, it dawned upon the
expectant that a gigantic plant for some purpose was to be erected near
Harrisville. Newspaper reporters found it difficult to reach George
Ingram, even with a card, which would be returned with the reply "Busy
to-day. Please excuse me."

In the meantime Harrisville agreed to create a more available harbor, and
to establish dock lines, not less than 500 feet apart, and in three years
to dredge the river to a depth of 25 feet for five miles back from the
lake.

George Ingram in his own mind had settled three vital points; that
Harrisville was one of the most favorable producing and distributing
centers in America; that he would so design and build a manufacturing
plant as to minimize the cost of production; that he would attempt to
harmonize capital and labor. Important provisions of the Company's
charter were:

  ARTICLE III

  The capital stock of this Corporation shall be Five Million Dollars
  ($5,000,000) to be divided into Five Hundred Thousand Shares at Ten
  Dollars each, fully paid, and non-assessable.

  ARTICLE VI

  The private property of stockholders shall be exempt from any and all
  debts of this Corporation.

Two thousand of the four thousand acres purchased were set apart for
manufacturing purposes. Most of the land sloped gradually, and the
surface-water naturally drained into the river. George Ingram's plans for
an enormous steel-plant had been most carefully worked out in detail.
Night and day the construction went forward. In eight months the plant
was in full operation. He had obtained the latest important labor-saving
devices and improved facilities in use throughout America and Europe. The
whole was supplemented by the inventions already perfected by his father
and himself.

The Harris-Ingram Steel Co. was provided with every modern device that
could in any manner contribute economy and rapidity from the time the
ores left the ship, till the finished product was loaded for market. All
ores and limestone were delivered on a tableland of the same height, and
adjacent to a series of several enormous blast-furnaces. The melted iron
from the blast-furnaces was tapped into ladles mounted on iron cars, and
provided with mechanism for tipping the ladles. The molten iron of the
cars was next transferred to improved converters in an adjoining
building, constructed entirely of iron. Nearby were the spiegel cupolas.
The greatest possible accuracy was thus attainable in delivering definite
quantities of molten iron into the converter for a given blow, also of
spiegeleisen. This was easily accomplished by standing the ladle cars
upon scales.

The metal was cast into ingot moulds, standing upon cars, and then
transferred to the mould stripper; afterwards the ingots were weighed
and sent to the soaking-pit furnaces. After a "wash heat" the ingots,
or blooms, entered the rolls, and were drawn and sized in shape to fill
orders from every part of the world.

The marvel at the Harris-Ingram Steel Co.'s mills was that electricity,
developed in vast quantities at the coal mines and conveyed on patented
copper tubes, furnished all the power, heat, and light used in the entire
plant. Electricity hoisted and melted all the ores; it worked Sturtevant
fans and blowing engines, which supplied necessary air for cupolas and
converters. Electricity furnished all the power requisite to handle
innumerable cranes and cars. As easily as a magnet picks up tacks,
electricity also handled ingots or finished steel. Five thousand tons of
finished steel per day were made and the labor and fuel account had been
reduced over one-half.

While the huge steel plant at Harrisville was being constructed, a large
force of men were building a conduit to protect copper tubes, from the
steel plant to the coal fields. At the mines hundreds of miners were set
at work, several shafts were sunk, and tunnels, levels, and winzes were
developed.

George Ingram believed that all the force in the world available for
man's use was derived from the sun; so he heroically resolved to hitch
his wagon, if not to a star, to the mighty sun. With this purpose in
view, he had bought the 20,000 acres of coal land. Half of this area was
located in Jefferson, Harrison, and Belmont counties on the Ohio River,
and thus title was secured to vast quantities of fossil power in the
upper coal measures, which ignites quickly and burns with a hot fire. The
other 10,000 acres were valuable because nearer to Harrisville. This coal
came from lower measures or seams.

George Ingram had made a thorough study of coal, or fossil fuel, its
formation and value. The coal of the carboniferous age is derived almost
entirely from the family of plants called _Lycopods_, or club mosses, and
the ferns, which back in high antiquity attained gigantic size. The
microscope has clearly developed this vegetable origin of coal. The great
Appalachian and other coal fields are without doubt, the long continued
and vigorous forest growths, and subsequent fossilization of the same in
the marginal swamps of ancient gulfs or seas.

The agency of transfer for solar energy is the vegetable kingdom. The
vegetable cell has the surprising property through the sun's agency of
being able to live and multiply itself on air alone. The carbon of
carbonic acid, a constituent of the atmosphere, is so liberated and
appropriated, as to become fixed in the forming tissues of plants. Thus
the plant is a storer of light and heat, a reservoir of force. It
mediates between the sun's energy and the animal life of the world. Thus
coal seams are the accumulations of the sun's energy for thousands of
centuries, requiring the patient growth and slow decay of hundreds of
immense forests. One secret of the unprecedented late growth of cities is
discovered in the steam engine, or the coal which feeds it.

A pound of good coal, used in a good engine, stands for the work of six
horses for an hour; a ton of coal for the work of thirteen hundred horses
for a day of ten hours; ten thousand tons of coal, used in a day by
single lines of railways, stand for the work of thirteen million horses,
working ten hours a day. In 1894 the English mines produced 188,277,525
tons of coal. In Great Britain alone, coal does the work of more than a
hundred millions of men, and adds proportionately to the fabulously
increasing wealth of those fortunate islands.

The Ingrams had solved two important problems, and on their practicable
application depended the success of the great Harris-Ingram experiment.
The more important of the two was the unlocking of the sun's stored
energy, electricity, at the coal mines. The second was a device for
conveying this energy from the mines to the steel plant, and it had been
patented to protect it.

Since electricity possibly travels on the surface of wires or metals, the
Ingrams patented a valuable device of small corrugated copper tubes,
strengthened in the center by steel wires, and thus the carrying capacity
of electricity was greatly increased, and the amount of costly copper
much decreased. These corrugated tubes enclosed in cheap glass, and
surrounded with oil, were laid in properly prepared conduits of vitrified
fire-clay sewer pipes. Without the intervention of the steam engine, by
a surprisingly simple process, electrical force was liberated chemically
at the mines and transferred for multiple uses at the steel plant.
Expensive coal-freights were thus saved. All the slack coal was utilized,
and instead of the waste of nine-tenths of the stored energy of the coal,
only one tenth was now lost. To husband properly the fruits of so great a
discovery, it was decided not to patent this latter invention, which if
disclosed would give too great publicity to the details.

The electrical works at the mines were constructed of safe-steel walls
and roof, and so built that the operations of generating electricity
directly from coal were conducted in secret in several separate
apartments, so that no single operator without the knowledge of all the
initiated employees would be able to successfully work the inventions.
The dozen initiated employees had made life long contracts with the
company in consideration of liberal and satisfactory rewards. The
Harris-Ingram Steel Co. thus equipped began operations.




CHAPTER XXIII

"GOLD MARRIES GOLD"


Alfonso Harris was content to leave his friends to continue their
journey, as they were willing that he should return to the Netherlands,
or to Amsterdam, where lived the beautiful woman who had won his heart.

Christine de Ruyter cordially welcomed Alfonso back to study art as he
expressed it to her on the first evening after his arrival. Alfonso was
much in Christine's society, at art exhibits, in carriage drives, and on
pleasure boat excursions down the bay. Weeks went by before he could
summon courage enough to ask Christine's hand in marriage.

In the game of hearts Alfonso thought himself an able combatant. He had
studied Christine in action and in repose, in society, and when alone
under his protection at Scheveningen, and at home, and he prided himself
that he knew at least one woman thoroughly. She loved art, flowers,
music, and fine dress, and was very ambitious. The latter trait was
doubtless inbred from her distinguished naval relatives.

Christine had many acquaintances among the best families of Holland. Her
beauty, coupled with the fact that she was an heiress, made her the
object of much attention from artists and members of clubs, but possibly
her love, or affection for art, might have sprung from the desire to gain
more knowledge of how to make herself attractive in dress, manner, and
conversation. Christine was not offensively vain, but she was
passionately fond of admiration. Alfonso had never dreamed that Christine
was not genuine at heart. She appeared to him to make much of her
American acquaintance, introducing him to her many friends, young ladies
as well as young gentlemen, and always seemed to prefer his company to
others.

She manifested even tenderness for him, expressed her strong liking for
America, and Alfonso believed that Christine was truly fond of him. No
arguments or persuasions could have convinced him otherwise. The contrary
wishes of his own family, the eloquence of a Webster, winds from the
poles, all combined, could not have cooled his ardor. Alfonso had firmly
resolved to wed Christine, come what would.

He had often dreamed of her smiles, her pretty blue eyes, and her fleecy
hair floating in the breezes of the Zuider Zee. He had also dreamed of a
brilliant wedding in Holland, of a large reception at Harrisville, and
had even heard the plaudits of his fellow artists in New York, as they
lauded his master piece "Admiral De Ruyter's Great Naval Victory."

Fortified with these proofs of Christine's devotion, he sought the
company of his blond sweetheart on a balcony that overlooked the moon-lit
harbor of Amsterdam.

Here Alfonso offered his hand and heart--to a coquette--who rejected him.
He was astonished, almost stunned. Recovering from his dazed condition,
she again chilled his heart by the utterance, "You have not learned in
this practical world of ours that gold marries gold; that society plays
for equivalents. You once admitted to me that your father wanted you at
the head of his large business, and disapproved of your choice of a
profession. As an artist you seek fame. How can you divide it with me? In
asking my hand you seek to divide my gold, thus securing both fame and
gold. Alfonso we have enjoyed each other's company as friends."

"Yes, Christine, though you have been cruel we can separate as friends.
Sometime I may be able to match gold with gold. Till then, adieu."

Saying this Alfonso left the De Ruyter mansion all the more resolved,
however, to win Christine. For a moment her deceptive heart rebuked her
as she watched Alfonso's departure. In the papers of the following
evening an announcement frightened Christine. The head lines read: "Mr.
Alfonso Harris, a young American artist, drowned this morning in the
harbor."

Later the police brought to the De Ruyter home detailed news. Christine
gave instructions to use every possible effort to recover Alfonso's body,
and at once sent her servant with a telegram for Colonel Reuben Harris,
Grand Hotel, Paris, the only address she knew.

The next day, with her mother, she accompanied the police to Alfonso's
room, where she gathered up several of her love letters. A new suit of
clothes hung in the closet, a package of returned laundry lay on the
table, also pen, ink and paper. Evidently Alfonso expected to return soon
to the hotel. His clothes, watch, and money had been found in the boat
that drifted ashore.

Christine concluded that Alfonso had gone for a boat-ride and swim, as
was his custom; very likely this time to free his mind, if possible, from
recent trouble, and was seized with cramp and drowned before aid could
reach him. Vigorous search in the harbor and along the shore instituted
by the police department and the American consul failed to locate his
body or to furnish further facts to Christine as to the cause of the
accident.

       *       *       *       *       *

Alfonso Harris meant all he said to Christine in his last words,
"Sometime I may be able to match gold with gold." He might be blind in
love matters, but his mind after a storm always righted itself. That
night when Alfonso reached his hotel, he planned to leave the impression
on Christine's mind that he was dead. To make the deception complete,
his trunk and all effects in his room were left as found by Christine.
Even his watch, pocket book and clothes were left behind in the little
pleasure boat, while he donned an extra suit. A Norwegian captain, who
was about leaving Amsterdam with a cargo for Canada, agreed for fifty
dollars to pick up Alfonso down the harbor and to land him in Quebec.

Fine family, beauty, and gold were powerful incentives to effort to an
ambitious young man like Alfonso, and he was resolved, incognito, to
explore the Great West in search of riches, and once found, he would lay
all at Christine's feet, and again claim her hand.

Jans Jansen, the Norwegian captain, was a jolly good ship-master, and the
fair weather voyage across the Atlantic proved enjoyable. Alfonso always
took his meals with the captain. Jans Jansen's wife and children lived in
Christiania, and his constant talk was that he hoped some day to get rich
and quit the sea. Alfonso made a warm friend of Captain Jansen, who
pledged secrecy as to his escape from Amsterdam.

The captain was robust and his big flowing red beard, blue eyes, and
bravery made him a worthy successor of the ancient vikings of the
Norseland. Jans Jansen enjoyed his pipe, and with his good stories whiled
away many an hour for Alfonso, so that when the ship, under full sail,
entered the Strait of Belle Isle and sailed across the Gulf towards the
River St. Lawrence, both the captain and young Harris regretted that
their sea-voyage was so soon to close.

The entrance of the St. Lawrence River is so broad that the navies of the
world abreast might enter the river undiscovered from either bank. Two
hundred miles up the river, Trinity House, an association of over three
hundred pilots, put aboard a pilot, and at noon next day Captain Jansen
docked his vessel at Quebec.

This old French city is located on a high promontory on the left bank
of the St. Lawrence. Its citadel, one of the strongest fortresses in
America, commands a varied and picturesque beauty. Alfonso walked up to
the obelisk, which stands in one of the squares of the Upper Town, in
joint memory of the brave generals Wolfe and Montgomery.

Next morning he was off on the Canadian Pacific Railway for Duluth, the
zenith city. Thence the journey west was through. Dakota in sight of
occasional tepees, where the brave Sioux patiently waits his call to join
the buffalo in the happy hunting grounds. Alfonso did not agree with the
popular sentiment, "The best Indian is a dead Indian," for the Sioux
seemed to him to belong to a noble race of red men.

Alfonso's enthusiasm for mining was greatly quickened by a fellow
traveler, who was the owner of a large block of stock in the famous
Homestake Mining Co. of Lead City, Black Hills, So. Dakota. This company
possesses one of the largest gold mines and mills in the world. The ore
bodies show a working face from two to four hundred feet in width, and
sink to a seemingly inexhaustible depth. The Homestake has produced over
$25,000,000 in bullion, and has divided over six millions in dividends to
stockholders.

Three days' journey brought young Harris to Montana, an inland empire
state, which lies on both sides of the Rocky Mountains. The Pacific
Express was laden with a motley crowd of men and women in search of fame
and fortune. Alfonso soon caught their enthusiasm, and visions of castles
with gilded domes floated in his imagination.

It was 1:35 P.M. when No. 1, the Pacific Express, pulled into thrifty
Helena, capital of Montana, a commercial metropolis metamorphosed from
a rude mining camp of twenty-five years ago.

The electric cars carried Alfonso to the Hotel Helena on Grand St.,
which he thought quite as good as any in his own city. Here he was
fortunate in meeting Mr. Davidson, a gentleman of large experience
as owner, organizer, and locator of some of the best gold and silver
properties in Montana and adjoining states. Irrigating canals and
water-rights were a special branch of Mr. Davidson's business. He never
failed to make the round of the leading hotels after the arrival of the
Overland. In this way he met Alfonso Harris. Davidson knew when to tell a
good story, and when to be serious. He took Alfonso to the Club, located
in elegant quarters, and the secretary gave him a complimentary visitor's
card. Davidson quickly discerned that Harris needed a week's rest, and so
took him on the motor line two miles out to the Hotel Broadwater and
Natatorium. No wonder the citizens of Helena take pride in their fine
health resort, the Helena Hot Springs.

Mr. Davidson introduced Alfonso to Colonel Broadwater, who extended the
hospitalities of his hotel on which he had expended a fortune. The
verandas were long and wide, the park was dotted with fountains, and the
interior of the hotel was luxurious in all its furnishings. The mammoth
plunge bath was the largest in the world under a single cover. Curative
mineral waters, steaming hot, flowed in abundantly from the grotto. In
the natatorium fun-loving men and women slid down the toboggan planks, or
jumped from the spring boards, while spectators in the gallery enjoyed
the aquatic sports. Elegantly appointed bathrooms in the hotel offered at
one's pleasure the double spray plunge, vapor, and needle baths.

Alfonso was not prepared to find in the mountains elegance surpassing
what he had seen abroad. Here he luxuriated for a week, and recovered his
health, which had been somewhat impaired by the unfortunate experiences
in Amsterdam, and the long journey from Holland.

Davidson visited Harris every day. At first he only sought to entertain
and awaken enthusiasm. He recited the familiar story of the Last Chance
Gulch, how in 1864, four half-starved and disheartened miners, on their
homeward journey from a prospecting tour among the gulches of the
Blackfoot country in search of the precious dust, had settled down to
work their last chance to make a stake, and had found gold in abundance.

Davidson said, "Here, where to-day runs the main street of Helena, was the
'Last Chance Gulch,' and the output of its placers was not less than
fifteen millions. From 300 feet square, where now stands the Montana
Central Railway depot, two miners took out over $330,000." Davidson told
of the great successes at the "Jay Gould," and "Big Ox Mine," and, that
in five years the output of the Drum Lummon Mine was six millions.

All this pleased young Harris, and whetted his appetite for mining
investments. Finally, as a result of several trips to examine prospects
and mines, Alfonso bought two prospects one hundred miles west of Helena
at a place called Granite.

At Drummond west of Helena, a line branches south of the Northern Pacific
to Rumsey. From Rumsey, Alfonso rode four miles to Granite, which was
located high up among huge granite boulders. Here, for a year he isolated
himself and labored hard for silver that was to be exchanged into gold
and laid at the feet of Christine. His mines had been named "Hidden
Treasure" and "Monte Christo." Possibly these mystical names influenced
Alfonso to make the purchase, and no doubt they often renewed his
courage.

The United States patents for his two lode mining claims finally came,
and were examined by legal experts, who pronounced them perfect. In the
purchase of the properties and in the development work, Alfonso and his
two associates expended $50,000. On the showing, which the development
made, together with the Annual Report of the adjacent Granite Mountain
Mining Company, young Harris hoped to form a syndicate and profitably
work his mines.

The facts in the report which Alfonso emphasized, were that the Granite
Mining Co. had paid dividends as follows:

Twelve dividends ending
July 31st, 1889                 $1,900,000

Total of fifty-five dividends,
an aggregate of,                $6,700,000

In eight years these mines
had produced and sold
of pure silver                  10,989,858 ozs.

Of pure gold                         6,521 ozs.

Realizing a gross sum          $10,988,800
Total gross expenditures       $ 4,092,512

Alfonso felt free to use the facts of the Granite Reports, as his
property was supposed to be a continuation of the same lode or metallic
vein. His syndicate was finally organized, and with the money thus made
available, all possible work was done for the next twelve months, on
shaft, levels, cross-cuts, drifts, winzes, and raises. For two long years
he pursued underground promising indications of wealth, which like the
will-with-the-wisp evaded him, until every prospect of silver and gold in
the "Hidden Treasure," and "Monte Christo" disappeared, and the mines
were abandoned.




CHAPTER XXIV

THE MAGIC BAND OF BEATEN GOLD


The demonetization of silver by the government in 1873, and its great
production, had reduced the value of the white metal one-half, so young
Harris resolved to seek for gold, and began a search, which proved to be
a most romantic success.

At first he hesitated to leave Montana, as its quartz veins and sluice
boxes in twenty-five years had poured out $400,000,000, and its mineral
resources were yet almost wholly unknown. The area of this single
mountainous state could not be blanketed by the six New England States,
and New York, or covered by England, Wales, Ireland, and Scotland
combined.

Finally Alfonso determined to follow the great mineral belt in a
southwesterly direction even to the Sierra Nevada Range if need be. At
Livingston he went south by railway through a gateway of the mountains,
and up the fertile Paradise Valley, following the cool green waters of
the Yellowstone alive with trout and equally gamesome graylings.

At Cinnabar Alfonso joined a merry party of tourists, who mounted a
Concord coach, and the four grays were urged to a brisk pace over a
smooth government road towards the great National Park. How exhilarating
this six miles' ride, and how imposing the scenery, as the coach enters
this Geologist's Paradise!

The Yellowstone or National Park contains 2,288,000 acres, and is fifty
times the size of France's greatest park at Fontainebleau. Its altitude
is a half mile higher than the summit of Mt. Washington, and the whole
park is encircled by snow-clad peaks and majestic domes from three to
five thousand feet high. This reservation by Congress in 1872, of 3575
square miles of public domain in perpetuity for the pleasure of the
people, was a most creditable act.

Alfonso found that the park abounded in wild gorges, grand canyons,
dancing cascades, majestic falls and mountains, picturesque lakes,
curious hot springs, and awe-inspiring geysers. He and his party pushed
through the Golden Gate, marveled at the wonders of the Norris and
Firehole Basins, stood entranced before the mighty Canyon then bathed in
the transparent Yellowstone Lake, and by nine o'clock were lulled to
sleep in the shade of fragrant pines.

After breakfast next morning, while Alfonso and the hotel guests sat on
the porch, a retired army captain, who had served in the Seventh U.S.
Cavalry, said he wished a party could be organized to visit General
Custer's monument east of the National Park on the Little Big Horn River.
There the Government had marked the historic battleground, where on the
morning of the 24th of June, 1876, two hundred of the famous Seventh
Cavalry and their brave leader, were overwhelmed and slaughtered by 2,500
Indians under the famous chief, Sitting Bull. Custer was tall and
slender, with blue eyes and long light hair. He had fought at Bull Run
and Gettysburg, and was present at Lee's surrender at Appomattox. He was
promoted to brigadier general when he was twenty-three years old, and
became major general when he was twenty-five. Eleven horses were shot
under him. Once he saved the flag by tearing it from its staff and
concealing it in his bosom. What Napoleon said of Ney is also true of
Custer, "He was the bravest of the brave."

The recital of Custer's deeds nerved Alfonso to renewed efforts to win
Christine's hand. He declined with thanks to join the captain's excursion
party, and early next day rode south into the upper basin of the Park,
which contains over 400 springs and geysers; many of the springs in their
peculiar shapes, translucent waters, and variety and richness of color,
are of exquisite beauty. Alfonso visited emerald and sapphire springs,
where it is said nymphs, elfs, and fairies came to bathe, and don their
dainty dress of flowers and jewelled dew drops.

Many bronzed tourists had assembled, and their faces showed amazement as
they watched giant geysers in action. Suddenly the solid earth is
tremulous with rumbling vibrations, like those that herald earthquakes.
Frightful gurgling sounds are audible in the geyser's throat. Sputtering
steam is visible above the cone, the water below boils like a cauldron,
and scalding hot, the eruption becomes terribly violent, belching forth
clouds of smoke-like steam, and hurling rocks into the air as though
a mortar of some feudal stronghold had been discharged. The stupendous
column of hot water is veiled in spray as it mounts towards heaven.
Boiling water is flowing in brooks to the Firehole River, which is soon
swollen to a foaming torrent washing away the bridges below. The valley
is filled with dense vapors, and the air is laden with sulphurous fumes,
while the hoarse rumblings and subterranean tremors chill the heart.
Beneath your feet are positive evidences of eternal fires, and all about
you the might of God. Alfonso was glad to leave this region of the
supernatural.

He hastened across the Snake River, which winds through Idaho, and pushed
on towards the Teton Range, one of many that form the Rocky Mts. In sight
are snow-touched sentinel peaks kissed by earliest and latest sun. The
Rocky Mts. or Great Continental Divide is a continuation of the famous
Andes of South America, and jointly they form the longest and most
uniform chain of mountains on the globe. Amid the gorges of this system
of mountains, over 3000 miles in length, America's largest rivers have
their birth, and find their outlet into the Atlantic, Arctic, and Pacific
Oceans.

These mountains are vast vaults that will hold in trust for centuries to
come untold supplies of precious metal for the American nations. This
general fact did not concern Alfonso. He was ambitious to unlock for his
own use only a single box of the huge vault. He was familiar with the
wonderful story of Mackay, Fair, Flood, and O'Brien, Kings of the
Comstock Lode, and owners of the Big Bonanza, who paid their 600 miners
five dollars per day in gold, for eight hours' labor a third of a mile
below the earth's surface. The Comstock Lode yielded over $5,000,000 per
month, or a total output of silver and gold of over $250,000,000.

For six long weary months Alfonso and his companion searched for gold
down the Green River and along the river bottom of the Grand Canyon of
the Colorado, till they reached the Needles on the A. & P. Railway.
Thence they rode west to Kern River. This stream they followed on
horseback into the Sierra Nevada Mountains, all the time searching for
precious metals, especially gold. The mountains were crossed over to
Owen's Lake, and a river traced north. Alfonso was prospecting in new
fields, but his search thus far was fruitless. His companion sickened and
died, but Alfonso bravely climbed among the mountains hoping to cross the
crest and reach the cabins of friendly government officials on duty in
the park of the big trees in Mariposa County.

It was late in the fall, grasses and leaves had browned, Alfonso's horse
had grown thin, and being too weak and lame to go forward, finally died.
His provisions had given out; his own strength and courage had failed; he
needed water for his parched tongue and lips, but none was at hand; fever
quickened his pulse. Sitting alone in the shadow of a giant boulder that
afforded partial protection from the gathering storm, his mind reverted
to his home at Harrisville where abundance could be had, to his family
that thought him dead, and to Christine across the sea, whom he had
vowed to win with gold. All seemed lost. Alfonso's head reeled, he fell
back upon the ground, and the early snows seemed to form for him a
shroud.

Good fortune guided this way a party of Yosemite Indians, who were
returning from an extended hunt for deer and elk. They had also slain a
few bears and a couple of mountain lions. The dead horse first arrested
their attention, and then the exhausted miner was found asleep covered
with snow. The Indians wrapped the sick man at once in a grizzly bear
skin, fastened him to a pony, and carried him to their camp near the big
trees. It was morning before Alfonso was conscious of his surroundings.
Standing by him was a shy Indian maiden with a dish of hot soup. His bed,
he discovered was in a burned-out cavity of one of the big trees. Near by
were several tepees, the tops of which emitted smoke. Straight,
black-haired Indians in bright blankets moved slowly from tent to tent.

Alfonso scarcely conscious had strange dreams. Sometimes he thought he
was in the Hodoo Region, or Goblin Land, the abode of evil spirits, where
he saw every kind of fantastic beast, bird, and reptile, and no end of
spectral shapes in the winding passages of a weird labyrinth on a far-off
island. Then his dreams were of rare beauty. Green foliage was changed to
pure white, the trees became laden with sparkling crystals, roadways and
streams were laid in shining silver, and geyser-craters enlarged in
strange forms resembled huge white thrones in gorgeous judgment halls.
Such fleeting beauty suggested to Alfonso's feverish brain the
supernatural, the abode perhaps of spirit beings. For days the medicine
man and Mariposa, daughter of the Indian chief, watched and cared for
Alfonso, whose life hovered over the grave.

Mariposa, Spanish for butterfly, was a fit name for the pretty Indian
maiden. She paid great deference not only to her tall father, Red Cloud,
but to the pale faces whenever in their presence. For four years
Mariposa, unusually bright, attended the Indian school at Carlisle, Pa.;
when she returned to her wild home in the forest she was able to speak
and read the language of the pale face, and beside she loved history and
poetry.

One day, Alfonso's health having slowly improved, Mariposa put in his
hands a small pine cone, the size of a hen's egg, and said, "Three years
go by from the budding to the ripening of the seed of the sequoias, or
big trees."

Alfonso did not know, till Mariposa told him that the big trees were
called sequoia in honor of a Cherokee chief, Sequoyah, who invented
letters for his people. She also told Alfonso that there were at least
ten groves of big trees on the northern slope of the Sierra Nevada range;
that some of the trees were thirty feet in diameter, and 325 feet in
height; that sixteen Yosemite braves on their ponies had taken refuge
from a terrible storm in the hollow of a single sequoia. Alfonso prized
highly a cane, fashioned by the Indian maiden from a fallen Big Tree. The
wood had a pale red tint, and was beautifully marked and polished.

Part of the Indian hunting party went forward with the game, while
Mariposa, Red Cloud, and three Yosemite braves with their ponies, waited
for the handsome pale face to recover partially. Then they rode with
Alfonso among the Big Trees, past Wawona, toiling up long valleys,
stopping now and then to cook simple food. The Indians followed a
familiar trail up dark gulches, along steep grades, through heavy timber,
skirting edges of cliffs and precipitous mountains, the ruggedness
constantly increasing, till suddenly Mariposa conducted Alfonso to a high
point where his soul was filled with enthusiasm. Mariposa, pointing to
the gorge or canyon of extraordinary depth, which was floored with forest
trees and adorned with waterfalls, said, "Here in the Yosemite (grizzly)
Valley is the home of my people. Here we wish to take you until you are
well. Will you go?"

Alfonso, still weak and pale, but trusting the Indian girl, replied
"Yes." The young artist-miner had never seen such stupendous masonry; the
granite walls that surrounded the valley were a succession of peaks and
domes, from three thousand to four thousand feet high, all eloquent in
thought and design. Alfonso began sketching, but Mariposa motioned him
to put his paper aside, and the six Indian ponies with their burdens
carefully picked their way into the paradise below.

Red Cloud, Mariposa, Alfonso, and the braves were received with
expressions of joy unusual for the stolid red men, and Alfonso was given
a tent to himself near the chief's big tepee, close by a broad clear
stream, and in the shadow of large old oaks. Here for several days
Alfonso tarried, grew stronger, and often walked with pretty Mariposa.
She taught him a novel method of trapping trout which thronged the river.
She had him sketch the reflection in Mirror Lake of cathedral spires and
domes, of overhanging granite rocks, and tall peaks of wildest grandeur.

He also sketched several waterfalls fed by melting snow. Mariposa's
favorite falls at the entrance to the valley made a single leap of
hundreds of feet, and when the white spray was caught by the breezes and
the sun, the lace-like mist, sparkling like diamonds, swayed gracefully
in the winds like a royal bridal veil. "The highest of a series of
cascades," Mariposa said, "was called 'The Yosemite Falls.'"

Here eagles soar above the Cap of Liberty and other granite peaks.
Robins, larks, and humming birds swarm in the warm valley, and abundance
of grass grows in the meadows for the Indian ponies.

As Alfonso's strength increased, he walked more frequently with Mariposa
along the banks of the river, by the thickets of young spruce, cedar, and
manzanita with its oddly contorted red stems. At times, each vied with
the other in bringing back echoes from the lofty granite walls of the
valley.

One sunset, as Alfonso and Mariposa sat by the river bank, Alfonso
holding the light redwood cane, the gift of the maiden, he took the
shapely hand of Mariposa in his own and said, "Mariposa, I owe my life to
you, and if I am ever rich I will come back and reward you."

"I shall miss you," said the maiden shyly, "I want no money; I am happy
because you are well again."

"Mariposa, I have long searched for gold," said Alfonso, "but finally
I lost courage, became sick, and you know the rest. You have a ring of
beaten gold on your finger, did it come from near here?"

"My father gave it to me," was all that Mariposa would say about the ring
as they separated for the night.

It was past midnight when Alfonso felt someone pulling at his shoulder.
There in the moonlight stood Mariposa beckoning him to come. Quickly
dressing, Alfonso left his tent without speaking as the maiden put her
fingers to her lips, and quietly following Mariposa they walked by the
silver stream into a wild gorge. Graceful pines afforded cover for
Mariposa and Alfonso, as swift of foot, they scaled high cliffs, till the
Indian girl held aloft her hand, and above in a cleft of white quartz the
yellow gold shone brightly in the moon's rays.

When the time came for Alfonso to leave the Yosemite Valley, one of
nature's masterpieces, tears filled the eyes of lovely Mariposa. He
earnestly thanked Red Cloud and his daughter, and, saying good-bye,
mounted his pony, a gift from Mariposa, when the girl ran to him and
whispered, "Here, Alfonso, is the ring; bring it back to me when you are
rich, but you will forget Mariposa."

"No! no!" replied Alfonso, "I will bring back the ring, and you shall
give it to the one who makes you his bride." Then the Indian girl turned
her face toward the Bridal Veil Falls, and Alfonso rode sadly out of the
valley.

After several years, still wearing the magic band of beaten gold, having
developed the Mariposa Gold Mines into property worth millions, Alfonso
left the far west to seek beautiful Christine.




CHAPTER XXV

WORKINGS OF THE HARRIS-INGRAM PLAN


A telegram received at Liverpool by Reuben Harris from Marquis Leo
Colonna, who at the Colonel's request went on to Amsterdam, verified the
facts as to Alfonso's death by drowning. Colonel and Mrs. Harris's
journey back to America under leaden and unsympathetic skies was sad
indeed.

George and Gertrude met them on the pier at New York. The next day at
noon, in deep mourning, they received the remains of Lucille from the
yacht "Hallena."

Ten days with Lucille on the pitiless ocean, and unable to exchange
with her a word of love, had sunk deeply the iron of affliction into
the soul of Harry Hall. He often wished that he had never been born. He
dreaded every new sunset, as the darkness that gathered about his
catafalque-yacht whispered to him of cruel fates, of rest in the deep
sea, and of angels' songs. Like the silent vigils of certain watchful
plants, Captain Hall carefully observed his compasses, studied the
weather, and often wished that he too might cross over and rejoin
Lucille.

       *       *       *       *       *

Ten days went by before Colonel Harris visited the offices of the
Harris-Ingram Steel Co. Then followed several meetings of the directors,
at which it was finally decided to issue the following circular:

  Official Notice, No. 27.
  Offices of The Harris-Ingram Steel Co.,
  400 to 410 Brough Building,
  Harrisville, O.--

  _To Whom, it may Concern_,--

  For the purpose of better promoting the harmonious workings of capital
  and labor, The Harris-Ingram Steel Co., Limited, has been organized,
  and its scope of co-operation has been planned on the following
  basis.

  Capital Stock of the Harris-Ingram Steel Company  $5,000,000
  Total number of shares                               500,000
  Par value each share                                     $10

  The liability of each stockholder is limited to the amount of stock
  held. Half of the entire stock of the corporation shall be owned by
  so-called "capital," and half by the employees of the company, or
  so-called "labor." The stock issued shall represent the actual cash
  expended upon the plant, and employed as a working capital. It is the
  wish of the management that each employee in the steel company shall
  own at least ten shares of the stock, and more, if he so desires.

  All the stock bought is to be paid for in cash. A loan at 4% interest,
  equal to the par value of the stock, can be made by employees, when
  necessary, to purchase a limited amount of the stock. Ten per cent of
  the wages of all such employees will be retained as needed, which, with
  dividends actually earned by the stock, will be applied on the amounts
  due for the purchase of stock and real estate for a home. The new model
  town will be known as Harris-Ingram.

  Two thousand acres of land near the mills will be properly allotted and
  improved by the company for homes for the employees, and practical
  architects have been secured. It is further the wish of the steel
  company that each employee shall own a good home. The size of each lot
  is 50 ft. x 200 ft. and the price per lot is $50 which is in proportion
  to the original cost and improvement of the allotment, so that the
  employees in advance will thus secure all the profits that result from
  any increased value of the lots. This is only just.

  A Stock and Building Bureau will be established, and money, at 4%, will
  be furnished the employees to build comfortable homes. This bureau
  created and officered by the employees will attend to the purchase and
  sale of stock, lots, the construction of homes, and the payment for the
  same. When for any reason, an employee desires to sever his connection
  with the steel company, his stock in the company and his home, if sold,
  must first be offered at a fair price to the Stock and Building Bureau.

  By this scheme capital and labor will have equal interests in the
  Harris-Ingram Steel Co., also an equal voice in the management of the
  steel company's welfare. Should capital and labor disagree, then the
  matter in dispute, with all the facts, and before any strike on the
  part of labor shall occur, shall at once be submitted to arbitration,
  and the decision of the arbitrators shall be final.

  Signed by
  George Ingram,
  _President of The Harris-Ingram Steel Co_.

In eight months George Ingram had spent of the five millions at his
disposal three million dollars on the steel plant. A working capital of
$500,000 was deposited in four banks, and the balance of one and a half
millions was invested in call loans, and so held ready to loan in small
amounts at 4%, to aid employees in securing their quota of stock, a lot
and house.

In twelve months, the $2,500,000 stock of the company, allotted to
labor, had been subscribed for by the employees, over a thousand pretty
cottages, costing from $1,000 to $2,500 each, were built or in process of
construction, and nearly three thousand lots had been bought by the
workmen.

A Co-operative Supply Bureau was organized and managed in the interests
of the workmen, to furnish food, clothing, and all the necessary comforts
of life at about cost prices. The profits of the bureau, if any, were to
be divided annually among purchasers, in proportion to purchases made.

Women in Harris-Ingram voted on several matters the same as the men.
Saloons, all forms of gambling, and corruption in politics were
tabooed. Sewerage was scientifically treated by the use of chemicals
and machinery. Storm water only was sent to the lake. The valuable
portions of the sewerage were utilized on adjacent vegetable farms. At
Harris-Ingram electrical energy supplied water free for streets, lawns,
and gardens, and filtered water was delivered free for family purposes.
All the public buildings and homes were heated and lighted by
electricity.

A Transportation Bureau was organized to manage the electric railways in
the interests of the people, and the fare was reduced to two cents.
Everybody rode, and the receipts were astonishingly large and quite
sufficient to meet expenses and leave a profit, which went into the town
treasury. Thus the people received large benefits from the electric
railway, conduits for wires, gas privileges, and other franchises.

Electricity also propelled the pleasure launches and fishing boats. The
smoke nuisance was a vexatious trouble of the past. Life for the laborer
and his family ceased to be a burden. Eight hours were given to
conscientious labor, eight hours to physical, mental, and moral
improvements, and eight hours to rest.

By the Harris beneficences all the employees became personally interested
in the profitable workings of the steel plant. The profits of the
business also were greatly increased by the valuable inventions of
the Ingrams.

The money advanced to the employees was rapidly returned through the
company's treasurer to Colonel Harris, and by him, and later by his
heirs, was again invested in other lines of practical benevolence.
The act which gave Colonel Harris most comfort was his righting the great
wrong done James Ingram, his early joint-partner, and father of George,
his son-in-law. Colonel Harris held $2,500,000 of the steel company's
stock. He disposed of this stock as follows:--

To George and Gertrude, each $250,000 or   $500,000
To James Ingram, early partner            1,000,000
Retaining for himself only                1,000,000
                                         ----------
Total                                    $2,500,000


Since his return Reuben Harris had aged rapidly, his hair having
whitened, caused probably by the loss of his only son and lovely
daughter. His joy on account of the success of the Co-operative Steel
Mills could not banish his intense grief. He had performed his life work,
and the cares and burdens of the new enterprise he had placed upon George
Ingram in whom he had full confidence. He had seen much in his travels
abroad; and now he had learned a most valuable lesson, taught by the
Savior himself, that it is more blessed to give than to receive.

At the close of a long summer day, as the golden sun dropped into blue
Lake Erie, the life of Reuben Harris passed from sight. It was a strange
coincidence that the papers Monday morning should contain parallel
obituary notices of both Reuben Harris and James Ingram. Together
they had labored earnestly for humanity, each in his own way, and now
reconciled, together they entered,--

  "The undiscovered country from whose bourne
    No traveller returns."

The four thousand employees, in a body, attended the double funeral. Each
man had been the recipient of tangible assistance from both Harris and
Ingram, and each laborer felt that he had lost a personal friend. It was
a touching scene as the four regiments of employees, each wearing
evidence of mourning on his arm, filed past the two open caskets. Each
employee left a rose on the caskets till both were hidden from sight. The
thousands of roses were more eloquent than marble or bronze. During the
week, the employees each contributed the wages of two days for bronze
statues of their late employers.

George and Gertrude felt keenly the loss of their fathers. They also
become conscious of increased responsibilities, but each had courage, and
good cheer was imparted if either faltered or stood beneath gray skies.
Their home life was delightful. Each possessed the art of controlling
trifles; thus troubles were minimized and joys were magnified.

Later twins, a boy and girl, entered their home, and the mother said, "If
you call our son George Ingram, Jr., I shall call our daughter Gertrude
Ingram, Jr.," and so there lived under the same roof George I. and George
II., Gertrude I. And Gertrude II.

Gertrude proved a model wife and mother. The mystery of woman's love and
purity is no longer a secret when we watch the mother in touch with
innocent children. Gertrude gave home duties prominence over all others,
with the blessed result that George found more attractions in his own
home than in clubs or in the homes of his friends.

To do daily some little favor for his wife, as in lover days, gave him
much pleasure. Every night George came home with a new book, rare
flowers, or fruit, the first of the season, or some novel plaything for
his "Two G's" as he often called the little twins. Gertrude occasionally
rebuked her husband for spending the money foolishly, as she said, but
then remembrance of his family when down town gratified her. Wives miss
and long for appreciation more than for better dress or money. If, on
return to tea, the bread is good, the thoughtful husband speaks of it. If
the table-cloth is white or if the arrangement of the meal is artistic,
he speaks of it. A single word of honest approval makes the wife happy.

Sometimes Gertrude wondered why the marriage ceremony so often untied
lovers' knots, and why after marriage love and esteem did not increase.
She never forgot the advice of an old lady, too poor to make her a
wedding present, who told her that if she wished to be happy in marriage
she must always keep two bears in her home, bear and forbear.

George and his wife were human, and not unlike other people. Now and then
George would say to his intimate friends. "The Ingrams like most New
Englanders did not come over in the Mayflower as the passenger list was
full, neither do the Ingrams belong to that very large number of families
who feel the necessity of saying, 'We have never had an unkind word
in our home.' Gertrude and I both have strong wills, and we often differ
in opinions, but as often we agree to disagree. In this manner we avoid
sunken rocks that might wreck our ship."

One day, Irene, George's youngest sister, asked Gertrude for a painting
of herself and of George. "Too expensive, Irene," replied Gertrude,
"couldn't think of it for a moment."

"No, Gertrude, I want only a tiny picture of your thumb and George's."

"What in the world do you want of our thumbs?"

"Because, Gertrude, George tells me privately that he has you completely
under his thumb, and you always act as if you thought you had George
under your thumb."

Gertrude and George were strong and helpful, both educated, unselfish
and ambitious; why should they not succeed? Gertrude had learned that
good and great people are also sometimes selfish. When a little girl,
she was present with her father who was invited to take dinner with a
distinguished divine. The good doctor of divinity did the carving, and
adroitly managed to keep for his own plate the tenderest piece of steak.
Colonel Harris observed the fact, and enjoying a joke, casually observed,
"Doctor, how well you carve!" The good man saw his breach of hospitality
and blushed, remarking, "Colonel, you must forgive me for I believe I was
born with a delicate stomach."

Business cares were locked up in the office desk down town, and Gertrude
forgot home annoyances as soon as George was seen coming up the lawn, and
she and the twins ran to meet "papa." He always brought home the latest
literary and scientific magazines and journals, while the reviews of
America and London kept the family up-to-date on the latest books and
leading topics. George's vacations were sometimes taken with his own
employees, all of whom in the heated months, had two weeks off, some
camping along the shores of the lake, others taking boat excursions to
neighboring groves, or enjoying the outdoor band concerts which were
furnished every other evening on the public park.

What concerned his employees, concerned him. When any of his workmen
were injured or sick, the company at once sent a surgeon or physician.
Rightly, he thought it more important that an employee should be kept
in good working order than even his best piece of machinery.

George Ingram was once heard to say that eleven letters covered a large
part of his religion, and that he wished he could write across the blue
dome in letters of gold the word "Helpfulness." To assist an unfortunate
individual permanently to help himself, is preaching a gospel that
betters the world.

The community of Harris-Ingram had little or no poverty. Everybody had
money in the savings bank, or accumulations going into pretty homes, and
mill stock, and all respected law and order, hence few if any policemen
were ever seen on the streets. Everybody was well dressed, courteous, and
daily growing more intelligent. Taxes were light, and general
improvements were economically and promptly made.

Both George and Gertrude believed that the tendency of the age was
towards more practical education for the people. London publishes
millions of penny books, penny histories and biographies, penny
arithmetics, astronomies and dictionaries, and penny books to teach good
behavior, honor, and patriotism. In London and elsewhere, the people were
organizing workmen's clubs, colleges, and institute unions, for mutual
improvement, and glimpses were already caught of Morris's "Earthly
Paradise that is to be."

  "Then a man shall work and bethink him, and rejoice in the deeds of his
     hand,
   Nor yet come home in the even too faint and weary to stand.
   Men in that time a-coming shall work and have no fear
   For to-morrow's lack of earning and the hungry-wolf a-near.
   Oh, strange, new, wonderful justice! But for whom shall we gather the
     gain?
   For ourselves and for each of our fellows, and no hand shall labor in
     vain."

Free night schools over the country, for the child of eight to the man of
eighty, will go a long way in solving the troublesome socialistic
problem.

George was familiar with the generous gifts and deeds of the Pratts of
Baltimore, and of Brooklyn, of Carnegie, of Lorillard & Co., of Warner
Brothers of Connecticut, and of the Messrs. Tangye of Birmingham,
England. The latter firm provides for its thousands of workmen a library,
evening classes, and twice a week, while the employees are at dinner in a
great hall, a twenty minutes crisp talk by capable persons on some live
topic.

George Ingram organized an Educational Bureau for the improvement of his
employees and others by evening schools and public entertainments. As
requisite for the success of such a bureau as he planned, he published
the conditions as follows:--

  1. Several study rooms and good teachers.

  2. A large and cheerful hall, church or opera house for lectures, that
  the prices may be low, the audience must be large.

  3. A capable committee or manager, enthusiasm, good temper, fertility
  of resource and sympathy with the people. Common sense coupled with
  determined perseverance works wonders.

  4. Variety and quality in the entertainment, with no wearying pauses
  between the parts. The movement must be swift and sure.

  5. Punctuality and business-like thoroughness in the management. Begin
  and end on the minute. Give exactly what you promise; or, if that be
  impossible, what will be recognized as a full equivalent. Ideas, not
  words, old or new on every helpful subject in the universe, spoken or
  illustrated. Music that rests or inspires, and is understood.

  6. Sell 5,000 season tickets at $1.00 in advance to secure a guarantee
  fund; this is sound business, as success is then assured, and it will
  not depend upon the weather.

  7. Have prominent citizens preside at each entertainment, but pledge
  them to crisp introduction. High grade entertainments wisely managed,
  prove themselves of benign influence, and an agency more potent than
  many laws in the preservation of peace and the reform of public morals.

When Colonel Harris's will was probated, two-thirds of the balance of
his fortune was left in trust with Mrs. Harris, George, and Gertrude,
to be used for the public welfare, as they deemed wisest. The trustees
used $100,000 to build for the Workmen's Club a large and attractive
Central Hall, that had steep double galleries, and five thousand opera
chairs.

Several necessary committees were organized and George Ingram's gospel of
Helpfulness found another practical expression. The Educational Bureau
was not a gratuity in any of its departments, as small fees were charged
in all the evening classes, which were crowded with old and young. For
twenty consecutive Saturday evenings in the winter season, a four-fold
intellectual treat was furnished at $1.00 for tickets for the entire
course.

By 7:30 o'clock in the evening the Central Hall was packed to the walls,
no reserved seats were sold, and the rule was observed "First come, first
served," which brought promptly the audience. Season ticket-holders had
the exclusive right to the hall till 7:25 o'clock, when a limited number
of single admission tickets were sold. A large force of polite ushers
assisted in seating the people, and in keeping order. At 7:30 all the
entrance doors were closed, so that late comers never disturbed the
audience.

The musical prelude, or orchestra concert of thirty minutes closed at
7:30 with a grand chorus by the audience standing; following this,
precisely at 7:30 was the half-hour lecture-prelude on some scientific
or practical subject. Among the topics treated were "Wrongs of
Workingmen, and How to Right Them," "The Terminal Glacier," "Sewerage and
Ventilation," "The Pyramids," "Wonders of the House we Live in,"
"Architecture Illustrated," etc.

From 8:00 to 8:15 followed the popular Singing School, in which five
thousand persons heartily joined, aided by an enthusiastic precentor, and
orchestra, in singing national hymns and other music. During the singing
school everybody stood, and with windows lowered, fresh air and music
swept through the hall and the hearts of the audience.

From 8:15 to 9:30 was given the principal attraction of the evening, a
popular lecture, dramatic reading, debate on some burning question, or a
professional concert. The entertainments always closed promptly at 9:30,
as many electric cars were in waiting. During the season, free lectures
on "The Art of Cooking," "How to Dress," "The Care of Children,"
"Housekeeping in General," "The Culture of Flowers," etc., etc., were
given at 3 P.M. in the great hall to the wives and friends of all the
ticket holders.

The circulation of useful literature was another important feature of the
Educational Bureau work. At each entertainment five thousand little books
of forty pages each, a wagon-load, were given to the owners of course
tickets, as they entered the hall. These pamphlets included "A Short
History of France," or "History of the United States," "Story of the
Steam Engine," "A Brief History of Science," an "Essay on Early Man,"
"Great Artists," "Secrets of Success," etc. Each little book contained
the evening's programme, the words and music of at least two national
hymns, and "Owl Talks," a single page of crisp thoughts, to whet one's
wits. At the close of each season the twenty pamphlets, continuously
paged, were bound for fifty cents in two volumes with covers of red
cloth. Thus the people got much for little, and they were benefited and
pleased with their bargain. Encores and the discourtesy of stamping the
feet and leaving the hall before the performance was concluded were
abolished. Palms and fragrant flowers were always on the platform.
Everybody listened attentively to the kindly words of teacher, orator,
or poet; new impulses were received, and all rejoiced in the supply and
satisfaction of their deepest and best wants. Feelings of a common
brotherhood made hearts happier and lives better.

Workmen went home sober with their week's earnings in their pockets, as
there were no saloons in the town, a bright book to read, and a home of
their own for shelter and rest. Thus also an improved citizenship was
obtained and the nation was made stronger.

George Ingram thought that all our cities should have large, cheerful
halls, people's forums, where clear and simple truths on important
questions should be taught. He believed that it would prove an antidote
to various forms of anarchy and communism, which under the aegis of
liberty are being advocated in our cities.

The trustees of the Harris estate set aside $250,000, to be known as "The
Reuben Harris Fund," to assist in providing regular courses of free
public lectures upon the most important branches of natural and moral
science, also free instruction to mechanics and artisans in drawing, and
in practical designing, in patterns for prints, silks, paper hangings,
carpets, furniture, etc. Free courses of lectures were given to advanced
students in art, also lectures in physics, geology, botany, physiology,
and the like for teachers, and the public.

Gertrude felt that the perpetuity and usefulness of such a fund or
monument dedicated to her father would outrival the pyramids. She greatly
encouraged among the wives of the workmen the growth of kindergartens for
children, and the cultivation of flowers, in and out of their homes,
offering valuable prizes at annual flower shows. Harrisville voted to
annex the village of Harris-Ingram, hoping that the gospel of helpfulness
that had worked such wonders might leaven their whole city.

George Ingram was now forty years of age. His great ability and practical
good sense had arrested the attention and admiration of not only his own
employees, but of the citizens of Harrisville, who demanded that he
should be chosen mayor of the city.




CHAPTER XXVI

UNEXPECTED MEETINGS


Christine De Ruyter had long contemplated a visit to the new world.
She was familiar with the history of the Dutch West India Company, a
political movement organized under cover of finding a passage to Cathay,
to destroy the results of Spanish conquest in America.

No doubt, love of discovery and of trade also stimulated the Dutch in
making explorations. In the vessel "Half Moon" they sailed up the Hudson,
and after building several forts, they finally established themselves in
New Netherlands. Peter Minuit for a trifle bought from the Indians the
whole of Manhattan Island. In locating on Manhattan Island, the Dutch
secretly believed that they had secured the oyster while the English
settlements further north and south were the two shells only. The
development of almost three centuries and the supremacy of New York
to-day, as the new world metropolis, verifies the sound sense of the
Dutch.

Christine was alive to the important part which her countrymen had early
played across the Atlantic. Her mother had died, and Christine still
unmarried, controlled both her time and a goodly inheritance. She
resolved to visit her sister Fredrika, whose husband was agent in New
York of a famous German line of vessels.

En route from Holland to New York she spent two weeks with friends in
London, and on Regent Street replenished her wardrobe, enjoyed Irving
and Terry in their latest play, attended an exciting Cambridge-Oxford
boat-race on the Thames, and with a great crowd went wild with delight
at the English races at Epsom Downs.

Saturday at 9:40 A.M. at the Waterloo Station several friends saw
Christine off for America on the special train, the Eagle Express, of the
South Western Railway, which makes the journey of 79 miles to Southampton
in one hour and forty minutes.

At Southampton the passengers were transferred on the new express dock,
direct from the train to the steamers, which are berthed alongside. By
this route passengers escape exposure to weather on tenders and landing
stage, and avoid all delays at ports of call, and waiting for the tides
to cross the bar.

Promptly at 12 o'clock, hawsers and gangways vanishing, the great steamer
moved down the bay, the fertile Isle of Wight in sight. Officers made
note of the time as the Needles were passed, as the runs of the steamers
are taken between the Needles and Sandy Hook. It was a bright breezy
afternoon and after lunch the passengers lounged on the decks, or in
the smoke room; some inspected their rooms, some read the latest French
or English novel, and others in groups gossiped, or walked the decks to
sharpen appetite.

The second steward, of necessity a born diplomat, had succeeded in
convincing most who were at lunch that he had given them favored seats,
if not all at the Captain's table, then at the table of the first
officer, a handsome man, or at the table with the witty doctor.

Christine did not appear at lunch, as she was busy in her stateroom. She
had given careful instructions that one of her trunks should be sent at
once to her room. An hour before dinner there appeared on the promenade
deck a beautiful young woman dressed in black, who attracted attention
and no little comment. She wore a dress of Henrietta cloth, and cape
trimmed with black crepe and grosgrained ribbons in bows with long ends.
Her tiny hat with narrow band of white crepe was of the Marie Stuart
style; her gloves were undressed kid, her handkerchief had black border,
and her silk parasol was draped in black.

Hers was the same pretty face and blue eyes that had won Alfonso's heart.
She supposed him dead; her dress of mourning was not for him, but for her
mother, whom she idolized. At first Christine hesitated about wearing
black on the journey, but she soon learned that it increased her charms,
and that it gave protection from annoyance. Many supposed she was a young
widow. So thought a handsome naval officer whom she had met in London.
When Christine returned to her room, she found that a messenger boy had
brought her his card, with compliments, and a request that she occupy a
seat at his table for the voyage. With a black jacket on her arm,
Christine was conducted to her seat at dinner by the chief steward. She
wore a plain black skirt and waist of black and white, with black belt
and jet buckle.

An up-to-date liner is a sumptuous hotel afloat. The safety, speed, and
comfort of the modern steamer does not destroy but rather enhances the
romance of ocean voyage. The handsome young officer and pretty Christine,
as they promenaded the decks, added effect to the passing show. Her
mourning costume gradually yielded to outing suits of violet tints with
white collar and cuffs, and a simple black sailor's cap with white cord
for band.

Artist that Christine was, and lover of the ocean, she and the officer
watched the sea change from a transient green to a light blue and back
again, then to a deep blue when the sun was hidden in a cloud, then, when
the fogs were encountered, to a cold grey.

Christine took great interest in the easy navigation of the steamer; she
watched the officers take observations, and verify the ship's run.
Frequently she was seen with the young officer on the bridge, he pointing
out the lighthouse on the dangerous Scilly Islands, the last sight of old
England off Land's End, she enjoying the long swell and white crested
billows, as the shelter of the British coast was left behind.

A charming first night aboard ship it was, the moon full, the sky
picturesque, the sea dark, except where the steamer and her screws
churned it white; at the bow, showers and spray of phosphorus, and
at the stern, rippling eddies and a long path of phosphorus and white
foam.

Christine wished she could transfer to canvas the swift steamer, as she
felt it in her soul, powerful as a giant and graceful as a woman; at the
mast-head an electric star, red and green lights on either side, long rows
of tremulous bulbs of light from numerous portholes; the officers on the
bridge with night glass in hand, walking to and fro, dark figures of
sailors at the bow and in the crow's nest, all eyes and ears. "All's
well" lulls to sleep the after-dinner loungers in chairs along the deck,
while brave men and fair women keep step to entrancing music.

With a week of favorable weather, and unprecedented speed the record out
was won; officers, sailors, passengers, all were jubilant. On Pier 14,
North River, Fredrika and her husband met Christine, and drove to their
fine home overlooking the Central Park.

       *       *       *       *       *

Alfonso Harris had come on to New York to spend a week of pleasure;
already he had secured his ticket for Amsterdam via Antwerp by the Red
Star Line. He was prepared to keep his promise to Christine. "To match
gold with gold!"

In his rounds among the artists he happened to step into the Art
Student's League, and there learned that his old artist-chum, Leo, was
in New York, and stopping at the Plaza Hotel. At once he took cab, and,
surely enough, there on the hotel register was the name Leo Colonna,
Rome. Alfonso sent up his card, and the waiter soon returned with the
reply, "The marquis will see Mr. Harris at once in his rooms." It is
needless to say that the marquis was both shocked and delighted to see
alive a friend whom he supposed long ago dead.

After dinner Alfonso and Leo drove to their old club, and as ever talked
and confided in each other. Alfonso told the marquis the romantic story
of his life, of his pecuniary success, and that he should sail in a few
days to wed Christine, if possible.

The marquis hesitated in his reply, as if in doubt whether to proceed or
not. Observing this, Alfonso said, "Speak freely, tell me what you were
thinking about."

"Nothing, Alfonso, only a report I heard at the club last night."

"What report, marquis?"

"A report or story concerning a beautiful widow, who had just arrived
from Amsterdam. From the minute description given--she had fair face,
blue eyes, fleecy hair and loved art--I suspected that the woman in black
might be Christine De Ruyter."

"You surprise me, Leo, but what was the report?"

"Alfonso, pardon me, I have said too much already."

"No, go on and tell me all."

"Alfonso, since the report is concerning a woman's character, my lips
should be sealed, and would be, except you my friend are the most
interested party. The club story is that a handsome young officer, who
left his newly wedded wife in Bristol, England, was so much enamored of
the charming widow aboard ship that suspicions were aroused, and in fact
confirmed, by an additional report that valuable diamonds had been sent
by the same officer from Tiffany's to the lady, who is stopping somewhere
on Central Park. There, Alfonso, I have given you the story and the whole
may be true or false."

It was now Alfonso's turn to be shocked; he could not believe what the
marquis had told him. Next day he visited the office of the American
Line, found that Christine De Ruyter was a passenger on the last steamer,
and the purser gave him her New York address. Then the marquis
volunteered to call, in Alfonso's interests, upon Miss De Ruyter who
seemed glad to see him, and was amazed with the story which he had to
tell, not only of himself, and his good fortune, but that of Alfonso.
That the latter was alive and wealthy was news almost too good to
believe.

The marquis reported to Alfonso that Christine was overjoyed to have a
bygone mystery so fortunately cleared up, and that she sent him an urgent
invitation to call at once.

Christine congratulated herself over her good luck at the very threshold
of the new world. "Strange romance, indeed, it would be," she mused to
herself, "if, after having refused the poor artist, he having gained
riches should prove loyal, and lay his heart and fortune at my feet!
Would I reject him? No, indeed! He has gold now." Thus musing to herself
before the mirror, she gave final touches to her toilet, and stepped down
into her sister's sumptuous parlor to wait for a lover, restored from the
depths of the sea.

Promptly at 9 o'clock Alfonso was ushered into Fredrika's parlor. For a
second, Christine stood fixed and pale, for Alfonso it really was, and
she had believed him dead; then extending her hand she gave him greeting.
For a full hour Alfonso and Christine talked, each telling much of what
had transpired in the intervening years. Alfonso said he was quite as
much surprised to find that she was still unmarried, as she seemed
surprised that he was still alive.

"Alfonso, I have waited long for you," Christine replied.

"Ah, yes, Christine, but have you been true all these years?"

As Alfonso spoke these words, he sat with Christine's hand in his own,
looking inquiringly into her blue eyes for her answer. Her face flushed
and she was speechless.

Alfonso, dropping her hand, said in a kindly voice, "For years I have
kept pure and sought to be worthy of you, and fortune has smiled upon me;
I could now match gold with gold, but when I demand purity for purity
your silence and your blushes condemn you, and I must bid you a final
farewell."

Christine could not answer, and as Alfonso left the house, she fell
weeping upon the sofa, where her sister Fredrika found her, long past
midnight. The terrible sorrow of that evening remained forever a mystery
to Fredrika.

It was 10 o'clock next morning when the marquis called upon Alfonso
Harris at the Hotel Holland. He found him busy answering important
letters from the coast. The marquis was not long in detecting that
Alfonso lacked his usual buoyancy of spirits, and so rightly concluded
that the meeting with Christine the night before had resulted
unfavorably.

Alfonso explained all that transpired, and the two artists, who had
flattered themselves that they knew women well, admitted to each other
their keen disappointment in Christine's character. Both lighted cigars,
and for a moment or two unconsciously smoked vigorously, as if still in
doubt as to their unsatisfactory conclusions.

Soon Alfonso said, "Leo, how about your own former love, Rosie Ricci? To
meet Rosie again was possibly the motive that prompted you to leave your
estate in Italy."

"Yes, Alfonso, I loved Rosie, as I once frankly stated to your sister on
the ocean, but in a moment of peevishness she returned the engagement
tokens, and the lovers' quarrel resulted in separation. But after the
death of Lucille I found the smouldering fires of the old love for Rosie
again easily fanned into a flame, so I crossed the sea in search of my
dear country-woman."

"And did you find her!"

"Yes, Alfonso, that is, all that was left of the vivacious, happy
songster, as we once knew her. Her new world surroundings proved
disastrous."

"How so?"

"Look, here is a picture in water color, that tells the story." Saying
this the Marquis slowly removed a white paper from a small sketch which
he had made the week before. It was a picture in the morgue on the East
River, with its half hundred corpses, waiting recognition or burial in
the Potter's Field. Upon a cold marble slab lay the body of a young girl,
her shapely hands across her breast. Alfonso recognized Rosie's sweet
face and golden tresses that artists had raved over.

The marquis in sad tones added a few words of explanation. "The senator
who educated Rosie proved a villain. When she acted as Juliet at the
Capitol, fashionable society gave hearty approval of her rare abilities.
Rosie's genius, like a shooting star, flashed across the sky and then
shot into oblivion."

A few days afterwards, Alfonso on the pier with his white handkerchief
waved adieu to Leo who had resolved to wed art in sunny Italy. Sad
memories decided Alfonso to leave New York at once. For a short time he
was inclined to give up a new purpose, and return to his own family at
Harrisville, but the law of equity controlled his heart, he journeyed
back to the Pacific Coast, and again approached the Yosemite Valley.

Seated again on Inspiration Point, he gazed long and earnestly into the
gorge below. He could discern neither smoke nor moving forms. All had
changed; not the peaks, or domes, or wonderful waterfalls; all these
remained the same. But where were Red Cloud and kind-hearted Mariposa?
Alfonso's own race now occupied the valley for pleasure and for gain.

Mariposa might not be of his own race, but she had a noble heart.
Education had put her in touch with civilization, and she was as pure
as the snow of the Sierras. He wondered if she ever thought of him. He
remembered that, when he rode away, her face was turned toward the Bridal
Veil Falls. Did she thus intend to say, "I love you?"

At midnight, as the moon rose above the forest, the tall pines whispered
of Mariposa, of wild flowers she was wont to gather, of journeys made to
highest peaks, of weeks of watching and waiting, and of the burial of Red
Cloud at the foot of an ancient sequoia; then the language of the breezes
among the pines became indistinct, and Alfonso, half-asleep, half-awake,
saw approaching a white figure. Two dark eyes full of tears, gazed into
his face, at first with a startled look, and then with a gleam of joy and
trust.

Alfonso exclaimed, "Mariposa!" He sought to clasp her in his arms, but
the graceful figure vanished, and the pines seemed to whisper, "Alfonso,
I go to join the braves in the happy hunting grounds beyond the setting
sun. You will wed the fairest of your people. Adieu."

When Alfonso awoke, the ring of beaten gold was gone, where, he knew not.
The tourist-coach was rumbling down the mountain road, and he joined it.
After an inspection of his mines, he sadly left the Sierras for San
Francisco.

The prophetic words of Mariposa, whispered among the pines, proved true.
Alfonso again met Gertrude's best friend, beautiful Mrs. Eastlake, now a
young widow, and later he married her, making their home on Knob Hill,
the most fashionable quarter of the city by the Golden Gate.




CHAPTER XXVII

THE CRISIS


What is of more value to civilization, or what commands a greater premium
in the world than successful leadership? Successful leaders are few, and
the masses follow. Honor, fame, power, and wealth are some of the rewards
of great leadership. The confidences bestowed and the responsibilities
assumed are often very great. A betrayal of important trusts, or a
failure to discharge responsibilities, usually brings swift and terrible
punishment, poverty, prison, disgrace, and dishonor to descendants.

George Ingram had proved himself a successful leader, and those who knew
him best, by study of his methods and his works, saw his capacity for
leadership. Hence the popular demand for him to stand as candidate for
mayor of Harrisville. His practical intelligence, and his acuteness in
observation of character, had served him well in organizing, developing,
and controlling the greatest model steel-plant of his generation, which
for quality, quantity, and minimum cost of products had attracted the
attention of manufacturers and scientists. Politicians soon discovered in
George Ingram natural prudence and tact in behavior. The strong religious
element of the city conceded that he possessed, as a certain doctor of
divinity said, "a nice sense of what is right, just and true, with a
course of life corresponding thereto."

The alert women of the city were in hearty approval of conferring the
honor of Mayor upon George Ingram. They knew that the completeness of his
character resulted in no small degree from the influence of his gifted
wife. The practical business men of the city saw that the proposed
candidate for mayor had good common sense. So all party spirit was laid
aside, as it should be in local politics, and George Ingram was nominated
and elected unanimously as the mayor of Harrisville. His cabinet,
composed of the heads of several departments, was filled with able men,
who with zest took up their portfolios not with the thought of personal
gain but with the lofty purpose of securing the utmost good to every
citizen.

Fortunately the city had adopted the just principle of paying its
servants liberally for all services rendered. By the so-called "Federal
Plan" the number of members of the Cabinet, of the Board of Control, of
the Council, and of the School Board, has been so reduced that at their
meetings speeches and angry discussions were tabooed; each associate
member was respected, if not on his own account, then on behalf of his
constituency, and all business was discussed and consummated with
the same courtesy and efficiency, as at a well regulated board of bank
directors.

Never before were streets so well paved, cleaned and sprinkled; never
were city improvements so promptly made without increase of debt, and
never did public schools prosper better. Men of experience on all lines
were drafted on special committees and commissions, and vigorous work
toward practical ends went forward on river, harbor, and other
improvements.

Electricity, supplied by the city, furnished power, heat, and light. High
pressure water relegated the steam fire-engine to the Historical Society,
and low pressure water, at minimum cost, was supplied to the people in
such abundance that during the summer season, before sunrise, all paved
streets were cleansed by running water and brush brooms. All sewerage and
garbage were promptly removed, and used to enrich the suburban
market-gardens.

Every country road leading into the city had its electric railway with
combination passenger and freight cars, and farm products for the people
were delivered in better condition, earlier at the markets, and at much
reduced prices. The advantages enjoyed by rich and poor in Harrisville
were soon noised abroad, and the influx of new comers constantly
increased the growth of the city. Mayor Ingram had been given a
re-election. Prosperity in his own business had brought great returns,
and the mayor's chief concern was, what to do with his accumulations.

One day the County Commissioners, the City Government, the Chamber of
Commerce, and the Board of Education were equally surprised to receive
from George Ingram the announcement that he would build for the people at
his own expense a court house, a city hall, a public library, and public
baths. He had often wondered how it was possible that other millionaires
could overlook and miss such opportunities to distribute surplus funds
among the people. Gertrude early observed the city's needs, and had
pointed out the opportunity to George, urging that part of her father's
money should be united with their own increasing wealth to supply funds
for the execution of their plans.

The four committees appointed by city and county acted speedily in the
consideration of details. It was decided to construct a group of
buildings on the park. The architecture adopted for all four structures
was Romanesque in style; granite was used for wall work, and darker stone
for ornamentation. The plans accepted exhibited less massiveness than the
original Romanesque, and showed a tendency towards the lightness and
delicacy of finish which modern culture demands.

The new court house located on the park enabled the architect to connect
it by an historical "Bridge of Sighs" with the prison and old court house
across the street. The city hall was properly made the most prominent of
the group of buildings. Its first floor and basement were combined in a
great assembly hall, capable of seating 10,000 people with an abundance
of light, fresh air, and eight broad entrances for exit. As the belfry or
tower was a leading feature of most mediaeval town-halls, so the artistic
feature of the Harrisville city hall was its lofty tower, containing
chimes, above which was to be placed an appropriate bronze statue. The
library and the baths were built on the park.

The Romanesque style of all the buildings gave fine opportunity to
introduce elaborate carvings about the entrance arches, and across the
façades to chisel quaint faces above the windows, and grotesque heads out
of corbels at the eaves.

The group of public buildings was finally completed and dedicated with
much formality. The city government unanimously adopted resolutions as
follows:--

"Resolved,--That the City of Harrisville accepts, with profound
gratitude, from Mayor George Ingram, the munificent gift of buildings for
a City Hall and Public Library as stated in his letters of ----; That
the City accepts the three noble gifts upon the conditions in said
letter, which it will faithfully and gladly observe, as a sacred trust in
accordance with his desire.

"Resolved,--That in gratefully accepting these gifts, the City
tenders to Mayor George Ingram its heartfelt thanks, and desires to
express its deep sense of obligation for the elegant buildings, for years
of wise counsel and unselfish service, and for the free use of valuable
patents. The City recognizes the Christian faith, generosity, and public
spirit that have prompted him to supply the long felt wants by these
gifts of great and permanent usefulness."

Similar resolutions were adopted by the county commissioners.

Nearly three millions were thus disposed of by the mayor and his wife.
Close attention to business, and the severe labors in behalf of the city,
undermined the health of George Ingram, and his physical and mental
strength failed him at the wrong time, for his ship was now approaching
a cyclone on the financial sea.

Tariff matters had been drifting from bad to worse, politicians were
seeking to secure advantages for their constituents by changes in the
tariff schedule, speculation was running wild in the stock exchanges of
the country, cautious business men and bankers in the larger cities
discovered an ominous black cloud rising out of the horizon. Bank rates
of interest increased, more frequent renewals were made, deposits
dwindled, country bankers weakened, and financiers in the metropolis
were calling loans made to the interior. With the financial cyclone at
its height, the demands were so great upon The Harris-Ingram Steel Co.
that creditors threatened to close the steel plant.

The cry for help went up from the Harris-Ingram mills, but their trusted
leader was powerless. George Ingram lay insensible at death's door, the
victim of pneumonia. For a week, the directors of the steel company
struggled night and day with their difficulties. Gertrude could neither
leave the bedside of her dying husband, nor would she give her consent to
have the Harris-Ingram Experiment wrecked. She had already pledged as
collateral for the creditors of the steel company all their stock and
personal property, and had telephoned the directors to keep the company
afloat another day, if in their power.

The ablest physicians of the city were standing at George Ingram's
bedside in despair, as all hope of his recovery had vanished. Gertrude
stepped aside into her library, and was in the very agony of prayer for
help, when in rushed her brother Alfonso, whom the family believed dead.
He had come from California with his wife, and stopping at the company's
office, had learned of the terrible trouble of his family.

Lifting up his broken-hearted sister, who for a moment thought that
she had met her brother on the threshold of the other world, he kissed
Gertrude and said, "Be brave, go back to your husband, and trust your
brother to look after the steel company's matters."

Alfonso learned that one million dollars were needed at once to tide over
the company's affairs; he drew two checks, for five hundred thousand
dollars each, upon his banks in San Francisco and requested the creditors
to wire to the coast. Before two o'clock replies came that Alfonso
Harris's cheeks were good, and the only son of Reuben Harris had saved
the "Harris-Ingram Experiment." Mariposa's band of beaten gold had worked
its magic.

       *       *       *       *       *

A public funeral was given George Ingram. He was a man the city could ill
afford to lose, and every citizen felt he had lost a personal friend. All
business was suspended, and the mills were shut down. For two days the
body of the dead mayor lay in state in the city hall he had built and
given to the people. The long line of citizens that filed past the coffin
continued through the night till dawn, and even then, great throngs stood
in the rain with flowers for his casket.

As a token of their high regard the people voted to change the name of
the city of Harrisville to Harris-Ingram, the suburb which was annexed,
and to place a bronze statue of George Ingram on the tower above the city
hall, which now became his fitting monument. Labor and capital united in
electing for the head of the great Harris-Ingram Steel Company, Alfonso,
the millionaire and artist-son of Reuben Harris.






End of Project Gutenberg's The Harris-Ingram Experiment, by Charles E. Bolton