The Red Cloud chief., 1882-08-25
THOMAS CRANES A T

Thomas Crane counted the strokes rs
they were given by the tall old clock in
the hall and rose regretfully. Twelve,
and | must CO." he said. which to Harry
Fenton meant that his friend would
stand up and talk for an hour in exactly
the same way i'm which he had talked
for six hours sitting. that he would talk
for a half hour longer in the hall. finish
with fifteen minutes outside the door,
and that at fifteen minutes before two
O'Clock in the morning, with a chance
of not more than five minutes error
either way. itwould be possible TO go TO
bed. Thomas Crane had the reputatio on
of being sure; he was certainly slow.
One could scarcely blame Thomas
Crane for his slownessa at this time. The
room in which ne and Fenton had spent
% long evening Was the ideal OF COM
fort. Some room are furnished to
please those who may happen 10 see
them from time TO time. and are elegant;
some are furnished because rooms are
necessary, and are commonplace; some
are furnished to please the n who
spends his time in them, and are COM
Portable and homelike. Harry Fenton's
study was of the latter kind. Every
chair and table, every paper and book
seemed TO have something of Fcnton's
individuality. and IL his friend could
but be attractive. The night outside
was equally un~attractive. The icy
wind was piling the snow into long,
hard drifts in the darkness. The con-
trast was not a pleasant one to n who
must soon face the storm.
On the table nearest the fireplace
were the books the friends had been
using from time to time in their discus
sion; curious works on the strangest
features in mental science: collections
of instances which have C v been ex-
planned and perhaps never will be;
books on the brain and nerves. These
two old college chums new failed TO
meet once a week in the young lawyers
study TO spend an evening in their
favorite way.
Standing near the open fire, Thomas
Crane said: Il must maintain that there
Is not merely a possible, but a probable.
connection between any W persons
you may name. Trace back your life,
and somewhere il crosses the life of the
beggar You pass in the street. But for
me. the man who makes my clothes and
the woman who cooks my food would
have different lives from what they do.
You grant it? Well, then, trace it on.
and what happens? But for them,
what? 1 tell You. Fenton. your life or
mine sways that Of human beings be-
yond the seas" What grew o of this
took about the hour which Fenton
had felt from experience would be
spent standing in the cheerful freight
In the hall the conversation had
drifted to another phase of the facinA-
ting subject. and as Crane took down his
overcoat he was saying: 'Of course,
there is such a thing as indirect, unin-
territorial responsibility. The man who
does 8 good deed may rob some one be-
hind him of deserved praise whsn he al
lows the deed to be counted to his own
credit; and the man whose life set in
motion the train of events which re-
suited in the good may never even
dream of it. And, on the other hand, !
we meet men every day who arc really
responsible for the crimes for which
other men endure punishment. Not
knowingly. not purposely. not with
malice, but. in truth. responsible Tor al
that" From this the discussion went
on for q half-hour or more. and the
Crane opened the door to 60. The
bitter cold rushed in in . fierce blast, rs
be said in answer to his friends last re-
mark: IAN oath should be sacred. III
can conceive Of no circumstances which
would vayTapt it. being hcokse-" l