The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1914-08-01

The motor with it's complacent occu-
pant glided silently and swiftly
through the wintry night. Out into
the fringe of tenements that border
the business district it sped, dexter
ously avoiding the youngsters who
danced like midgets in the circle of
its lights. The golden dreams of Mr.
Bradshaw were in strange contrast to
the dark, sodden surroundings. He
was busy building lifty white stone
structure, that bore over its welcom-
ing entrance the legend, "The Brad
shaw Free Soup Kitchen" Really,
that sounded much better than to
name 1t after a. mere street.
There was a sharp crack, followed
by an abrupt stop that threw him
forward from his seat, and he heard
the chauffeur whistle softly as he
leaped from his place.
Whats up?" queried Bradshaw,
|nervously. 1t was cold and misty out,
and accidents naturally annoyed him.
Broken axle" sad the Chauffeur,
flashing his pocket light. Its snapped
clean" Bradshaw glanced at his
watch; it was ten o'clock and after.
For moment, it looked as if he
would lose his temper, but Mr.. Brad
shaw never showed anger when sub
ordinates were around, SO he stepped
out of the motor with almost smile
on his face.
IF it is going to take some time, :
he said, cheerfully, I'll walk to a
car line. Fix the car if you can be-
fore morning. l shall want it then, .
Somewhere about three blocks
ahead, he saw the lights of a trolley
fash between the solid walls of
black that hemmed him in, canyon
like, and for the spot he headed. The
street was badly lighted and almost
deserted, but he swung along for a
block or more, led on by the occa-
sional car that passed the end of the
canyon.
The neighborhood was all strange to
him,-the tall, grim buildings that
rose abruptly from the pavement, the
garish lights in the drug store window,
and the banging of mechanical piano
that sounded from the saloon on the
corner,-and he hurried on, his hands
in his pockets. Everything looked
.dreadfully poor and dismal, and Brad
shaw wondered how people could be
so shiftless. At the corner lamp
post he paused long enough to read
the street signs. Seventh and Canal,
the neighborhood soon to be the site
of his free soup kitchen. Bradshaw
smiled as he thought of the good that
institution would do the vincinity
Then something happened. He sud
denly became aware that someone was
blocking his way with bright, shiny
bit of metal that somehow sent his
hands skyward.
"Tve got a nice quiet place down
here, where there amt nobody to
bother u.s. Forward march,"
There was something so final and
decisive in the order that Bradshaw
marched. The nice quiet place was a
dark, noisome alley which the Robin
Hood of the bit of shiny metal had
constituted his Sherwood.
That's all right said the rough
voice, pleasantly enough, Il wouldn't
hurt you for anythin' if you'll only be
nice obejient boy
The bit of metal never moved from
the vicinity of BradshaW's nose,
even while the free hand of the un-
known played rapidly through Brad
shaw's pockets.
Gee, you're accomodatin'," said he
of the gun, 81 never seed a more obi
GIN young man. And bein' as you're
so kind, I'm goin' to trouble you for
your overcoat."
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