The San Francisco call., 1895-07-28

Cecil Graham was writer for the press
So he described his occupation to the man
who was taking names for the new City
Directory. He was young man, ambi-
tious, conscious of possessing power, de-
termined to use his talent for the good of
humanity. He was hardly conscious of
the fact yet, but in reality he was some
thing more than a writer. He was a
Thinker.
There is broad distinction here. Writ
ers are legion. They write upon all sub
jects, the need for ship canals, the pres
ence of evil in the world, the emancipation
of women and the higher education. Some
times they even write about the
thoughts that Thinkers think.
But Thinker is different order of be-
ing. There are only few of these born in
each century. Not even university extern
sion can make one.
have said that he was Thinker. He
had come up to the city from barren
farm in the rocky hills. He had lived with
nature and she had taught him some of
her secrets. Now he desired to live with
humanity and learn the secrets of its woes,
its errors and its upgoing.
He saw life in the city to be, even as it
was in the country, a mighty struggle.
He saw men striving with each other, COM
peting for the bare necessaries of life. He
heard them declare that competition is
the life of trade. He saw men pushed to
the wall in the struggle. He saw women
crushed into infamy. He saw little chill
dren condemned to lives of toll. At the
same time he saw other men, other women,
other children, with more than they could
use OF the blessings of life. He saw that
what a man gets in this world depends
upon what he does, and that what a man
does is limited. inexorably, by what he
gets.
Seeing all this his heart burned within
him. A passionate love for his kind filled
him. He dreamed of a time when he
should be able to help his brethren. But
he was very poor. He could scarcely earn
enough money TO keep himself alive He
could not even have done this had it not
been for the aid given him by friend.
This friend was very rich man, cul-
tured, liberal, patron of the arts He
recognized the young Thinkers genius and
endeavored to help him in such ways as
he could without compromising his inpe-
pendence. He enlisted his aid in prepar-
ing a pamphlet on penny savings banks
work. He also spoke word for him to
the editor OF one of the city dailies, which
procured him the chance to do the market
reports for the paper. He predicted that
the Thinker would one day win fame and a
name.
And the Thinker looked on at life, and
his great desire waxed stronger.
A mighty thought was growing in his
brain. He could not yet make it clear to
his own mind, but he knew it was there.
One day 1t caused him to forget his market
report. His city editor forgave him, but
when the next day the same thing hap
pened he let the Thinker go.
That night as the Thinker lay in his bed
an Idea was born TO him. It was the
thought that had been growing in his
mind. AT last he saw it clearly, and knew
that in this, the thought of his brain, lay
salvation for his brethren. He laughed
aloud in the darkness. In that instant he
comprehended the meaning of humanity's
struggle, the errors that had plunged it
into the morass, and the way out. He
arose, lighted his lamp and began to write.
Morning came in at his window and
found him still writing. The suns rays
grew stronger, causing the lamps fame to
grow dim and burn sickly pale until at last
it went out altogether. But the Thinker still
wrote.
At noon he threw down his pen. He had
written and rewritten until the table be-
fore him was strewn with papers. He had
put his Idea into tangible shape. He was
full of exultaJion as he leaned back in his
chair arranging his pages. He knew that
what he had written would lead his broth
ers and sisters into the light. He saw
every human burden lightened because of
the message conveyed in the great Idea
He felt like god. He did not think of
fame for himself. He thought only of the
good to his brethren.
AS he sat thus there came knock at his
door. An instant later his friend the rich
man entered. The Thinker greeted him
ioyously. Here, at last, was what justified
his friends faith in him. He bade his
guest sit down and proceeded to read aloud
what he had written.
When the last word was read the rich
man sat filed with dismay. He saw all
that the Thinker had seen as the possible
outcome of the Idea, but he saw, too, that
which the Thinker had not taken into &C
count nor cared for. He saw the end Of
individual power and wealth. He saw the
inevitable downfall of the order to which
he himself belonged.
"This is terribleT'' he cried. "Your Idea
would mean the destruction of Established
Usage, the uprooting of Society. Men will
not receive it. The world is not yet ready
for this thought. You must first educate
the people up to it. To give it to them
now would but be to cast pearls before
swine"
The Thinker was unconvinced. He was
yet under the spell of the Idea. He had
faith in his brethren. He would send the
Idea forth into the world.
His friend urged the matter.
'Take my advice" he said, "Destroy
this work 'Tis but the idle dream of
heated imagination. 1t will ruin your
reputation as a solid thinker. Do not
weaken your future influence by giving to
the world these vagaries"
The Thinker pleaded for his Idea. 1t
meant light for the people. They would
hear-they would understand. The world
was waiting for light.
They talked until the afternoon was
nearly gone. Then the rich man went
away and left the Thinker to his thought.
After that doubt entered. The Thinker
began to fear that after all he might be
mistaken. Who was he that his thought
should shake system or give light to the