Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1888-03-15

them. Not soul but believed in the dawn
Of vague day Of general happiness. Few
had clear ideas Of the elements of their long
wretchedness. They thought everything was
wrong in the system under which the poor
were so unhappy, and the remedy that oc-
CURED to their minds was, Of course, to
change everything. No more long hours, no
more scant pay, no more fayoritism; all
should have alike No more strikes or con-
flicts or complaints or bitterness were
dreamed of, for there would be no hardships
left.
Philip thought Of Bertha. At first it
seemed a year since he had lost her, and he
wondered with dull nchs in his heart where
she could be after so long time.
Then it seemed but an hour, so fresh was
the wound in his heart 1t was her place,
that empty seat by his side, in this supreme
moment of his desolation. She could COM
fort him in his loneliness, tho most terrible
crushing loneliness, that in the midst of
multitude. Perhaps he was weak, too weak
for the stern requisitious of his destiny. Per-
haps there was not enough of the sturdy ele-
ment in his character He would rather
have leaned on some other brave heart than
stand out alone before the world, better
formed for the gentle graces of a friend than
to WELD undisinayed the ponderous weapons
of wealth and power He would have been
better to nurse the sick and comfort the
fallen, than to be ordered to the front of the
battle, where to be still is infamy, and to
fight death to some pitied foe. And there
was not one human being near or dear
enough to him to instil one spark of new
courage into his heart, or brighten by one
smile of love the darkening desolation that
seemed to have settled over his life. IL
Bertha had only waited another day she
could not have gone. She would have staid
and learned again for very pity to love him
If she had only waited another day! But no
doubt the very weakness in him that cried
out for her made him incapable of holding
her love. 1t is hard to confess to oneself, his
soul is too poor and small for the woman of
his choice to love. But that was the depth
of humiliation Philip Breton had reached as
he lay back on his carriage cushions. At
least he was generous to make an excuse,
even at the moment of his greatest need, for
the woman who had deserted him.
He heard voices from without. He had no
interest in what any one in the world might
say, he thought, but these words were the
first words that fell upon his ear.
''Sick is it, Well, cheer up, girl, the young
boss will make it all right Yer all tired out
and ye niver was fit for much anyhow"
''Will he give us doctors, too!'
"Why not! he has 'em when he's sick It's
just as right we should, as works our best for
him when we're well.n
Philip was fairly startled into momentary
forgetfulness of his sorrow. But the carriage
moved along few feet and stopped again.
Were the people mada Was it his duty to
keep a free hospital and teach the sick to
come whining to him for charity, when ILL
Wouldn't it spoil them, to say nothing from
the business point of ,views He began to
sympathize more than ever with his fathers
perplexities, and to feel that perhaps, after
all, his solution of them was the only prac
ticable one. But he heard the rustic of a
woman's dress beside his carriage where it
waited
''Isn't it splendid to have whole holiday"
said fresh, girlish voice.
This isn't the last, Molly replied man
who stood right against the carriage door,
'They say we're not to work but four days a
week now.'
Philip frowned very unpromisingly, but
the girl said:
"And how can we git along on much less
wages!n
"Why, the wages will be more instead Of
less. guess you don't understand"
Nor did Philip, but the carriage rolled
along before the young man could explain,
and stopped by another group.
"Only eight hours q day and every hand
will get just the same. No more favoritism.
Who told mes Why that's been the plan all
along, only the old man wouldn't agree.
Now it's goin' through, though"
The other man laughed "Well, don't
see how the young boss is goin' to make the
mill pay that fashion, but that's his lookout. y
"Pay!" repeated the sanguine prophet.
"Why those looms just turn off sheets of
gold"
The horses started once more and Philip
Breton sank back again on his seat. The
people had cost him his bride and his father.
They had wrecked his life, and cast him ON q
shore of barren wastes, with never one foun-
tain of hope for his famished soul
And now, with stupid and yet pathetic
trust, they looked to him to devote his for
tune and himself to them, never questioning
but word of his, stroke of his pen, would
let perpetual sunlight into their lives.
That evening he sat alone in the little study
in the house that had been his fathers. The
house was full of solemn faced guests, but he
would see none of them. He had bowed his
head on his folded arms and tried to com.
nlune with the dead; his dead There were
two One his kind, tender father, whose
,Toad, forid face always frightened with a
mile at tho coming of his son. Tho other OF