The San Francisco call., 1905-08-20

OU may say Ihat Ieu asleep L
VIII not dispute you. It would be
obviously too proftless.
II was the three o'clock owl car
~ that took that morning. the one
I always caught on my late nights
at the once. remember quite distinctly
that the car was lightly laden. I remem-
Der also that a coupe cot on al Mason
street The girl was very young. hardly
sixteen. I should say. and at no late date
must have possessed q face Of singular
sweetness and repose. The man was the
regular characterless specimen Of a
Tenderloin foater.
The whole horrible story was told in her
flushed. hectic cheeks and her abnor-
may bright eyes She staggered as she
fell into her seat and laughed loudly
the loud. chilling laugh OF alcohol com
ing through lips that perhaps before that
night had never known other than the
care-free laugh of light-hearted sixteen.
The roue leaned over to her with what in
other situations might have been the
commencing smile Of pleased instructor
TO an apt pupil, but with what was merely
school. eh?" Sure thing she replied.
That's what I call life" Her reply
came out with such a T II. miserable at
tempt at familiar camaraderie that it was
pitifUl Undoubtedly the man had made
his point; another girl was started on Jne
primrose path Of dalliance; a young girl
IN her early sixteens. before judgment,
character or perez ons had formed,
trusted 70 her ow- will through the Grim
inal carelessness. the misplaced trust, or
the cruel indifference of her parents
Then It was. while specuIating, half
nauseated. upon the sad tragedy of the
thing. and wondering why no law could
be framed that would hang these Ten
derloin perverts, that the Voice OF the
Owl Car broke IN upon my meditations.
At first II came like subtle essence, or
ar intangible odor that one having ex-
perienced once vainly tries TO place 1t
was not the defined utterance of words;
it was rather emanations from the en-
comprising space. II was as one might
catch from the midst of q dense throng,
the voice of a friend. and essay futilely
TO place It. And yet It was insistent, pa
tient and certain. Then at last I re-
ceived the Voice; my system, in some tel
epatnic way. attuned itself to the thing
IN the void that held it's message for me
and It was clearer then than the voice
Of the quick. 1t came slowly, easily.
without halt or hesitation. in measured
e.
~. It was as the voice might be of one
aged and bent and ripe IN all expert
ence who, having sounded the depth of
human soy and woe. sits far upon his
height and surveys the mad struggle
beneath him. Realizing the futlity Of
passion, the worthlessness OF sham, the
hypocrisy Of show, and understanding too
late that content is the only goal, he sur
veys naournfully the pathos OF the mad,
rnisdirected struggles going on far be-
meath him for the ideals OF mammon and
the flesh.
YES" the Voice said, You see It too.
Surely It IS horrible; more horrible than
you with your youth, ana despite your
newspaper experience, can realize"
made no answer in words; but my ac-
quiescence was conveyed subtly and sure
ly, and the Voice continued:
Il have marked you often and often I
have tried to reach you; but 1t has re-
mained for tonight, when your soul was
restless at this pitiable sight. for me to
penetrate to your consciousness. 1t is
indeed a sad. sad story. Before tonight
the soul Of that girl was purer than the
soul Of a vestal virgin; now she has
been debauched and her soul has fed In
horror from its shrine.
Her name is Dot. Years ago was on
the day run and many a time have I
smiled to myself flying past the Panhan-
die to see her playing happily there with
her little comrades.
II always felt honored when she was
on my car. Ny gong rang with q glad
der beat; my motors whirred more joy
ously. my wheels rang to the rail Joints
with merrier rhythm. For many years
I carried her: with her mother down
town shopping; with her mother and