News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1903-02-18

what forces the man had to draw on,
how much of hold he had on the
wretched lives that furnished his field
of action, John Gordon did not know.
Perhaps it was as well that he did not
know much about it. A full knowledge
of even one aspect of Tommy RandalPs
political influence might have appalled,
a more courageous and hopeful man
than John Gordon.
The boss was man of about forty
five. Outwardly he was a short, thick
set man, with a ford face and a reso-
lutte manner He did not show any
signs of incorporate living, and indeed
it was his boast that he had no vices.
The most noticeable characteristic of
the man was his absolute confidence in
his own influence. 1t was not egotism
so much as a thorough faith in the po-
litical security of his position.
There was one quality that John
Gordon possessed, however, that made
him formidable He was fifteen years
younger than this man, and he had
practically no experience in that world
which was the only world in existence
for Tommy Randall But he had a
faith in God that was as profound as
the other mans political creed, and in
his love for the people he was pre-
pared in acting on that creed to go any
lengths that were within human posi-
bility. If Gordon was ignorant Of Tom
my RandalI's strength, the boss was no
less ignorant Of this young mans inner
sources of persistent and tireless
strength that would inevitably come to
his assistance in the struggle that was
beginning in that wretched tenement,
with a child's death as witness to the
grim contest.
Il have been asking Mrs. Caylor
what arrangements have been made
for funeral service" Gordon spoke
quietly. IF no other minister has
been engaged, l think l can get Mr..
Falmouth Of Nazareth church to come
down"
Tommy Randall walked up to John
Gordon and deliberately looked him
over. Gordon stood perfectly still and
never moved muscle as his eyes
looked straight into the older mans.
"Tbe service has all been arranged,
young man." Randall said finally. A
sound of shutting steps was heard on
the broken stairs and along the cor
ridor, and two men appeared with a
coffin
"Ah. There you are, Abrams! That's
rore like it. Don't try to palm off
mother one of your rotten boxes on
ne or you'll hear from me, Ell? Put
on the table" Then, as two chill
lren came into the room at the heels
Of the two men who brought the cof-
in, Gordon was astonished to see Ran
lall pat them on the head kindly and
say: NOW, then lads, out of the road.
can't stop now"
The children went out of the room,
and Randall hustled in and out order
ing chairs and helping place the body
Of Louie in the coffin Gordon came
Ep to the table to look at the little
face, for Louie had been partly de-
formed, and his face was like a babys
He looked down at the figure and
noticed that one hand was clinched
light STOPPING a little lower, by the
linn light Gordon recognized his own
little gift when he had gone in with
Mr.. Marsh. 1t was a sample bottle of
perfumery, and the child had chung to
it in the darkness, dying in the horrible
filth of his surroundings and, as Cor
a II
orally covered with vermin.
John GordOn's tears fell on the face
as he felt that here was one of Gods
little ones against whom somebody
had sinned. Better for a milestone to
be hanged around his neck"-he seemed
to hear the words of the Son of Man
than that one of these little ones
should perish" Who was to blame?
Was it the social system? Was it the
selfish wealth? Was it political dis
honesty? Was it definite individual?
This child-weak, defOrmed. helpless
did it not need the strength and beauty
of a whole universe thrown about ii in
loving protection? Instead Of that,
flung like some vile thing among the
rotting, lOathsOme, crawling things o.
the lowest physical world, it had gone
out of a world of black horrors, cling
ing childishly to bit of artificial
fragrance that was practically all the
touch it ever knew of the abounding
perfume of a flower bedecled earth
Poor little soul! VIII not God take
him and hold him long in his bosom of
infinite pity: And will it be unjust if
an impossible gulf yawns between
him and the Dives who on earth tasted
all the physical delights, but let the
dogs lick the sores of the beggar at his
gate, proud of his charity in flinging to
him the crumbs of the feast? For is
not that about all that wealthy Chris
tendon has so far flung at the dying
beggar of the Stun, after 1000 years of
luxurious civilizations
Go be coutnued)