The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1902-03-01
.seft Story.
THE VISIBLE SOUL.


his wealth by hard tradlhg auu ciose Oai-
gaining. Few people could get ahead of
him; and though it was his frequent re-
mark that every dollar he owned was hon
estIy made in trade, his customers aad his
tenants knew him only as hard man, not
INSCRIPTIONS, but disposed to exact the
last dime. At home or in church (to
which he went occasionally his thoughts
were too much occupied with schemes Of
money making to afford any spare room
for affection or religious feeling. His bus
mess acquaintance rather enyied him, as
one who had conquered the secret of sue
cess.
The lumber merchant sat in his little
Office at the close of an October day. 1t
had been day full of business and its
aggravations He was thinking of going
home, when there suddenly came rat-tat
at the door.
Come in called Mr.. Greene, gruffiy.
Oh, it. $ you, Simmons. Well now what
wanted?
Mr.. Greene, said the newcomer, a
sturdy built, honest looking man Of mid
die age, I've come to see if you won't let
me have another bill of lumber-some
Michigan pine | need for that contract |
have on the east side.
No, Simmons, you can't have another
foot Of lumber from my yard; that's fiat,
said Mr.. Green, harshly As soon as you
pay up what you owe, you can get more;
not until then.
But, Mr.. Greene, protested, Simmons,
this is a serious matter to me. Why, We
paid you hundreds and hundreds of dol
lars, good money, for your lumber; and as
soon as this job is through you will be the
first to get your money. You don surely
mean to say you refuse?
That just what | do mean, snapped
Greene. But I've not time to talk about
it. You can take your choice; pay up
your last bill, or go without.
It simply means ruin, that's what it
does, said the man advancing into the
room. Why, good heavens, Mr.. Greene,
you cannot mean what you say It would
be the meanest-
Get out Numbered the lumber mer-
chant, advancing toward him, his huge
bulk quivering with anger. Out of here,
| say Your shall never get foot Of
lumber from me as long as | live.
Simmons retreated step or two, then,
still with hat in hand, he turned towards
the excited man. Mr. Greene, he said
in deep tones, may the Lord forgive me
for saying it, but think you have the
meanest soul that ever He permitted to
enter into man, and if you could only see
it
But his talk was suddenly cut short by
a threatening movement of Mr.. Greene,
who pushed him out of the Office and
slammed the door violently.
Confound impudence, l call it said the
lumber merchant, on regaining his seat.
Why, hang that fellow, trusted him and
trusted him. I m fairly sick of his win
ming talk and poverty stricken ways To
insult me by referring to my soul. What
does he know about it, anyway and he
rose and paced the floor of the little office.
He said had the meanest soul, he unused.
But whoever heard of any one seeing a
soul? And then he sat down again, and
rubbed his chin meditatively He rested
his head upon his hands. Somehow, those
words burrowed and buzzed in his brain.
The world Of business seemed to slip away
into shadow and silence.
My soul-well, / wish could see it. |
am sure that fellow is wrong. Anyhow,
he knows nothing about it. | wish.
Here / am, piped up a little thin voice,
somewhere on the floor behind him.
What-what's that he askly quickly.
Here am, repeated the thin voice.
Who? Where?
Right here behind you.
The lumber merchant turned in aston
ishment, and looked in the direction indi-
Gated There, in a corner, and In the
shadow of the leather covered lounge, was
a little impish dwarf looking figure, like a
shriveled Filipino. The merchant shrank
back in amazement.
Who are you anyway? he gasped.
I am your soul, piped the black looking
little imp in the corner.
My soul he shook himself together as
if disbelieving his senses Utter nonsense?
Why, with touch of this button l can
summon policeman
Still am your soul, said the little black
one Yours and nobody eise's.
How did you come in my office? interro
gated the merchant.
| was permitted to come as you wished
said the black thing, and | must stay I'M
til the time of my permission ends.
Confound it persisted Mr.. Greene, you
don't mean to say that you are going to
stick right here, in my office.
Wherever you go, I go, piped the voice,
am part of you and you cannot be
without me.
But, stammered the merchant, with an
inward shudder, how am | ever to get
along with you sitting around? He went
over fearfully toward the door and slipped
the spring lock. Why, this is ridiculous
Everybody who meets us will remark.
No eye but yours can see me, was the
reply from the corner.
Well, that one consolation, said Greene,
drawing long breath. My SOUL Mine !
This is the first anybody ever heard of
such a thing
He touched bell to summon his fore
man.
Half, he said, I'm going home. Ev-
erything all right
eyes, sir, replied the foreman.
Well, then, get me carriage, will you?
Certainly, sir.
1t was with strange trepidation that
Mr.. Greene buttoned up his coat and closed
the door of his office that evening. He
felt somehow as though he was bidding the
old place goodby and might never come
back. He noted with satisfaction that the
coach lamps were unlit. Looking down
he saw, moving lightly by his side, the
dark, little impish figure. He opened the
coach door and stepped aside to give the
soul the right of way. Then he entered.
How shall ever be able to meet Mary
and the girls in this fix? he said. It's
awful | awful ! Something must have
happened in my brain, and he turned again
toward the little figure whose presence and
appearance seemed to put the question of
hallucination beyond all doubt
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