Los Angeles herald., 1906-08-05

SZeALU dul, deSpalrlng tasnon, Jurheu Jhe
thought over and over and over again.
The endl
In itself the thought was incomplete, only a
INK IN chain, link that was held by Others
and to others gave support but for the time it
dominated him He ignored the circumstances by
which the climax had been wrought, overlooked
It's train of dependent evils The catastrophe
alone fascinated. This was the end Ambition
had produced disaster, work was represented by
ruin. mighty fabric of triumph he had plan
ned and labored upon with all his craft and
strength gorgeous as the rainbow had been the
color of his dream, and now he sat amid the
ashes and his sky was black
All around there were forceful evidences Of
life and activity. Through the office windows
the flaming lights of his factory gared down
upon him, myriad of searching yellow eyes,
the air doomed with the rattle Of spindle, the
metallic ring of loom; the floor Of his room vi
brated as though beneath the tread Of mighty
army. From all this turmoil in the days that lay
behind he had gathered inspiration; the clangor
of his mills had sounded as sweetest music, to
its strains he had marched along the golden road
of his own choice Now it beat upon him as
drge.
By-andbye the boom diminished and died away
throb and irontumult ceased; across the yellow
eyes living forms hastily passed. there was the
sharp sammng of doors, and after that the clash
of clogs on factory flags. and the hum of voices,
the tired voices Of well-worn age, the laughter
laden voices of youth The young manufacturer
rose and listened with panied intensity to the
familiar homegoing sounds.
''The last time" he muttered another phase
of the end. It's goodbye but they don't know
it. And when they learn the fact it will have
little of the sting that it holds for me. Tonight
the place is mine, they are my people; tomorrow
| 4 Ig..1 -f s.a11 4rttn fron
me; few days longer and another man will sit
in my room and do the work have called my
own In year they will have forgotten me-"
In year! What would that year mean for
him? What-would- r-his-wife? How
would it treat his children? Today he ranked
as one of Lancashire's merchant princes,
son of King Cotton; tomorrow he would be de
posed Henceforth even if he permitted
to serve the monarch at all, it would only be as
a salaried menial. He must begin life anew in
cottage, one of hundred mean, indistinct,
brick faced dwellings; his wife must be her own
maidservant, and-he knew full well what col
lapse in Lancashire involved-unless Fate gave
him another chance his three golden-haired las
sizes might even i'll time become slaves of the
loom Love lent color to his fears, daubed the
lurid patches thick and heavy,
At any rate, his crucfxion was almost ended
There remained for the night that one agonizing
task the soul-shatterng confession to be made
to his wife, then on the morrow the crash, and
after that-a new start, the first blow in the
most desperate of all his battles.
| He donned his overcoat and hat, went down
the stairs and through the watch-house, with its
cleaning fire, its glowing coppers and cans,
passed into the street. Thence, by way of tor
tuous labyrinth of courts and alleys, he gained
the heart of the town, and moved by the force
of habit, waited for the tram-for at Sherburn
the end of every day discovers master and man
travelling homeward cheek by jowl in the same
coach, and seeing nothing odd in the circum-
stance But when the car rmhed along and
| halted hy the corner, he suddenly remembered
the newborn call for economy, reminded him
self that tomorrow penny might have become
a coin of value His foot the step, but
the thought thrust him back, plunged him again
among the crowd on the sidewalk. He wondered
what they would think of him, how they would
treat him. these people who knew him, some of
whom greeted him with words of cordial warmth,
if the reality were revealed to them, if they
were shown that he had been reduced to this
the price of tram fare.
Away up the sharply climbing road he heavily
trudged exchanging shops and hustle for sub
urban calm and at last, just on the fringe of the
town, he turned in through the gate of his own