The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1893-07-14
A TAILOR'S SON.
Do You Think His Ambition Was
a Selfish One2

(lnctly that morning seven years ago,
when Miss Sturgis had come with her
mother to his fathers shop to be meas
ured for a riding habit. He remem-
bered the frock of large plaid that she
Wore, all green and blue and black, and
he remembered her blue felt hat with
its ostrich feathers; but what had made
still deeper impression upon his boy
ish mind was her pretty pink-and-white
face, her great hazel eyes and her sun
ny curls, which, after being caught at
the nape of her neck with dark blue
ribbon, went rippling down over her
rough brown coat nearly to her waist
He had stood at the little desk in the
corner making out bills-for it was a
Saturday, and, there not being any
school, he was engaged at his usual
holiday occupation.
He was sixteen then, and he fancied
that she was year or two younger; for
he had overheard her mother say that
it was her first riding habit, and that
they did not care for an expensive one
because she would outgrow it. He re-
called that she had blushed at this, as
though it were crime to be young and
growing, and that feeling of resent
ment had come into his heart against
her mother for subjecting her to such
an embarrassment.
Seven years had wrought great
many changes, but the shop was in the
same old place there on Sixth avenue,
under the shadow of the jefferson Mar
lset police courts brick walls, and with
the elevated railroad trains rum bling
past the windows of the upper room
where he studied and where he slept.
Karl Engfer, the tailor's son, however,
was no longer a schoolboy, looking
after his fathers books and making out
bills on holidays. He was now stu
dent at the general theological seminary
IA Protestant Episcopal clergyman in
embryo - and he wore somber black
garments of a somewhat clerical cut to
indicate his chosen profession.
Just why he had gone into the church
he hardly dared to confess, even to him
self, because he was really conscien-
tious young fellow at heart, and he be-
lieved that there was such a thing as a
divine call to the priesthood. In his
case he doubted if the call was divine.
The orthodox teachings of maiden
lady who presided over class in the
mission Sunday school that he attended
on Carmine street had not been without
their effect. He had accepted the
Scriptures as truth, he had been bap-
tised and he had been confirmed, but
the impulse to go forth and preach the
Gospel had come rather from wish to
elevate himself above the level of the
surroundings in which he had been
born and raised than from any burning
desire to lift his fellow-man from the
Slough of Despond.
Young Engfer now and then inflicted
upon himself sort of moral fagella-
ton. AT such times he opened his
heart to his own honest gaze, and he
invariably found there deeper under
lying motive for his course, of which he
was half ashamed. 1t was nothing
more nor less than an ambition to gain
position from which he might aspire
to the love of the little maid in the
plaid froclz who had ordered her first
riding-habit from his father on that
Saturday seven years ago.
1t would not have been an unworthy
ambition, he told himself, under other
circumstances. If it were only Sec
ondary consideration! If he had given
himself to the church first, and this de-
sire had come afterward, he could have
pacifed his chiding conscience with the
assurance that wife such as Madeline
Sturgis would make him would be of
incalculable ass istance to him in his
parochial work; but now he felt that he
was using his holy calling as a means
to accomplish an end that was distinct
ly selfish, and as such hypocritically
base.
These moods, as might be supposed,
were morbidly depressing. All the
afternoon he had been fighting over
again in his heart the same old battle
between the righ and the wrong of it;
and now, tired out by the struggle, he
had come down from his little upper
room into the tailor shop on the ground
floor, and was standing looking out
through the glass door at the passing
throngs on the avenue.
Working men and workingwomen
were hurrying home from their day
| toll; the surface cars were crowded,
and at short intervals long, heavy trains
thundered by on the elevated road over,
head, The hurry-skurry of the scene
diverted him for the moment, and he
would probably have been lifted com.
pletely out of his doldrums, had not
that one name, spoken by his fathers
voice, at that instant fallen upon his
ear.
The old man was evidently in trouble
He had spoken, somewhat graciously,
TO his cutter, who was busy chalking
out a pair of trousers, which We're for
Herr Fleischman, the walking gentle.
man at Amberg's theater, and which
must be finished In time for the premier
of the new comedy on the following
evening His question was as to who
could carry home certain ridias hA','-
for "AIees Stur0is~" 49, --~.,
- -. Lne errand boy
vas out. Karl knew that it was the
busiest season of the year with his
father, and that Gottlieb, the cutter,
could not be spared fop outdoor service.
| But the garment was promised and
must be sent.
Karl turned away from the door.
"Let me take it, father" he said
Its only step down to Washington
place, and don't mind"
The old German protested, but Karl
persisted, and eventually the father re-
luctantly consented TO allow his son, of
whom he was more than proud. and for
Whom he had ambitions that lowered
70 . plshopNe, to deliver the parcel.
In A