The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1896-01-15
BELLS OF ST. MARKS.


most unlikely to occur when a man has
such host of pleasant acquaintance as
Gerald had, but when the man is too scru-
pulous to ask for loan before he sees the
way clear to repaying it the last financial
legs come very quickly. Gerald had
prosaic occupation. He was a lawyer, and
on the particular evening of which write
he sat in his Office gazing at the dim
square of gray light which represented the
window, thinking ''What next" His
funds were reduced to a few cents, and
there was no place for more to come from.
He had tried his hand at literature, the
only thing that seemed to be open to him,
and his vastebaSket - unemptied for
weeks because he could not afford janitor
fees-was running over with refusals. He
had grown tired of hearing the postman
come down the hallway and was con-
WINGED that luck was against him. Men
must have a seapegoat, and when their
energies fail of accomplishing some desired
end, possibly through their own blindness
or mismanagement they attribute their
failure to luck.
So Gerald sat and thought of his pros
poets, and it did not require much effort
to cover them all. He cast up his accounts
mentally and balanced his assets against
his liabilities. OF the latter, thank God,
there were none to amount to anything.
And of the former-well, the account bal
anced nicely. His watch was silver, and
old at that. His lawbooIls were not nu-
merous, and old lawbooks are drug
the market at any time. His furniture
was rickety and cheap. So there was moth
ing to be gained in trying to sell that. He
threw out his hands in q sort of deprecat-
ing appeal to the world as he sat there in
the darkness. What was there to live for?
There was nothing in life that he could
see. He had no intimate friends-he had
IL
to make them.
He had many pleasant acquaintance
but they are rarely friends. A friend is
one who is willing to give something for
nothing, and Gerald knew that there was
none such among the men who greeted
him pleasantly day after day. He had no
family save distant cousin or two, who
would regard it as a blessing, perhaps, if
he were out of the way. "Out of the
wayv' That phrase woke train of
thought in his mind. He dropped his
head upon his hands and thought of get
ting rid of his miserable life. He sat
there and heard nothing. The colored
janitor shuff1ed down the hallway and
closed the staircase window, grumbling
the while about the weights being too
heavy and the windows being likely to
open themselves "jes' when they's a
showah an mebbe bluzzard a-ragin.
But Gerald did not hear him. The
room was growing darker and colder at
the time, but the man s heart was SO much
darkor and colder that he felt nothing.
He was thoroughly discouraged, and when
O man gets thoroughly discouraged; when,
like this one, his funds and his prospects
are all gone; when the streets, and the
factories, and the newspapers, are all filed
with forms and names begging for en-
ployInent, and the discouraged man knows
no trade or profession save the one which
<~e1<
to die-to end the futile struggle for ex-
istenco anyhow, to stop thinking. 1t goes
farther than discussion of the question,
SIS life worth Hving?" and it becomes
merely bald statement, death were
better''
Gerald reached for the drawer in his
desk, where his revolver, loaded with ball,
lay close to his hand. 1t would be quick
way out of the difficulty momentary
twinge of pain, then blessed oblivion.
The o'clock bells were ringing, and
the man rose with a bitter smile. The
mocking bells rang on, merrily, merrily
chasing the tones up and down the scale.
He looked at the pistol, cooked it. Harki
There came in through that hall window,
which must have opened itself again, the
strains of Coronation. The bells had
ceased their mookery and were ringing out
the old hymn tunes-the tunes his mother
used to play on the old melodeon and sing
to him. He stopped, and the pistol slowly
fell by his side. Then the air changed,
and the chimes rolled the grand strains of
"Adeste Fideles''-
Oh, come, all ye faithful
Was he faithful to himself? Was he faith
full to his manhood?
Joyful and triumphant
Was there nothing at all in life worth liv
ing for? Had he not advised a disconso-
late friend to cheer up and make one more
step out to better things? The pistol
dropped from his hand on to the table, and
the air played by the bells was now one of
comfort
to the mercy seat,
Fervently kneel.
Through the snow laden twilight the
notes Of the hymn sounded
Here bring your wounded hearts,
Here tell your anguish
The memory of the little old church at
home came back to him-the memory of
his mothers death and how the hymn
comforted his childish heart.
Earth hath 10 sorrow that heaven cannot heal
There came a shuttle on the floor Of the
hallway, and the light of a lantern shone
over the transom. A knock on the door;
but the man within stood with his face
buried in his hands and needed it not
Then a letter was slipped through and fell
with a soft tap on the bare and dirty floor
The bells were silent as the man stepped
forward, picked up the letter, and with a
bitter smile read the stamp on the cor
ner. He knew it so WE'LL Another polite
TO. 80