Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-08-22

crossed Broadway. His path was blocked by the fence surrounding old Trinity's churchyard. Grasping the pickets in either hand he stared at the crumbling headstones of those guardsmen of Mammon who once walked the earth and fought their heart battles, as he was walking and fighting, but who now knew no ten o'clock. no three. who looked upon the stock-gamblers and dollar-trailers as they looked upon the worms that honeycombed their headstones' bases. What thoughts went through Bob. Brownley's mind only his Maker knew. For minutes he stood motion less, then he walked down Broadway. He went into the Battery. The benches were crowded with that jet sam and f1otsam of humanity that New York's mighty sewers throw in armies upon her inland beaches at every sunrise Here sodden brute sleeping off prolonged debauch, there a lad whose frankness of face and homespun clothes and bewildered eyes spelt from the farm and moth CTS watchful love- On another bench an Italian woman who had a half-doz- en future dollar kings and social queens about her, and whose clothes told of the immigrant ship just into port. Bob Brownley apparently saw none. But suddenly he stopped. Upon a bench sat sweet-faced mother holding sleeping babe in her arms, while curly-pated boy nestled his head in her lap and slept through the magic lanes and fairy woods of dream land. The woman's face was one of those that blend the confidence of girlhood with the uncertainty of wom- anhood. Twas pretty face, which had been plainly tagged by it's Maker for light-hearted trip through the world. but it had been scared by the iron of the city.
 MT. Brownley-" She started to rise.
 He gently pushed her back with a hush" unwilling to rob the sleepers of their heaven.
 What are you doing here, Mrs. -" He halted.
 Mrs. Chase. MT Brownley. when I went away from Randolph & Ran. doiphs office I married John Chase; you may remember him as delivery clerk. had such happy home and my husband was good: I did not have to typewrite any longer. These are our two children"
 What are you doing here?"
 The tears sprang to her eyes; she dropped them. but did not answer
 Don't mind me, woman. I, too, have hidden hells don't want the world to see. Don't mind me; tell me your story. It may do you good; it may do me good; yes, it may do me good"
 had dropped into seat few feet away. Both were too much occupied with their own thoughts to notice me or any one else. I could not overhear their conversation. but long after ward, when mentioned our old sten- ographer, Bessie Brown, to Bob, he told me of the incident at the Bat tery. Her husband, after their mar riage, had become infected with the stock.gambling microbe, the microbe that gnaws into it's victims mind and heart day and night while ever fiercer grows the get rich, get rich" fever. He had plunged with their say ings and had drawn blank He had lost his position in disgrace and had landed in the bucket-shop. the sub-cellar pit of the big stock ex- change he'll From there week be- fore he had been sent to prison for theft, and that morning she had been turned into the street by her land lord I saw Bob take from his pocket his memorandum-book, write some thing upon leaf. tear it out and hand it to the woman, touch his hat, and before she could stop him, stride away. l saw her look at the paper. clap her hands to her forehead, look at the paper again and at the retreating form of Bob Brownley. Then l saw her, yes, there in the old Battery park. in the drizzling rain and under the eyes of all, drop upon her knees in prayer. How long she prayed I do not know. l only know that as I followed Bob looked back and the woman was still upon her knees. thought at the time how queer and unnatural the whole thing seemed Later, learned to know that nothing is queer and unnatural in the world of human suf- fering: that great human suffering turns all that is queer and unnatural into commonplace. Next day Bessie Brown came to our office to see Bob. Not being able to get at him she ask ed for me.
 "Mr. Randolph. tell me. please, what shall I do with this paper?" she said. T met Mir. Brownley in the Bat tery yesterday. He saw l was in distress. and he gave me this, but cannot believe he meant It." and she showed me an order on Randolph & Randolph for thousand dollars. I cashed her check and she went away.
 From the Battery Bob sought the vharyes. the Bowery. Five Points. the hothouses of the under world of America. He seemed bent on pick ing out the haunts of misery in the misery-infested metropolis of the new world. For two hours he tramped and I followed. A number of times thought to speak to him and try to win him from his mood. but I re- trained. could see there was