Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1916-11-24
THE VACANT WORLD
BY GEORGE ALLAN ENGLAND
Copyright. 1916. bp Frank 4. Munscy Company

pride In noting that the osterhaut Build
ing, on Seventeenth street, had lasted
rather better than the average.
MY work." said he, noddlng with grim
satisfaction, then passed on.
Into the Subway he penetrated at Eight
eenth street, climbing with difficulty down
the choked stairway, through bushes and
over masses Of ruin that had fallen from
the roof. The great tube. he saw, was
choked with litter
Shiny and damp II was, with n mephitic
smell and ugly pools of water settled in
the ancient roadbed. The rails were
wholly gone In places In others only rot
ten fragments of steel remained.
goggle-cycd toad stared impudently at
him from long tangle OF rubbish that had
been a train--stnlled there forever by the
final block signal of death.
Through the broken arches overhead the
rain and storms of ages had beaten down,
and lush grasses fiourished here and there
where sunlight could penetrate.
No human dust heaps here, as In the
shelter of the arcade. Long since every
vcstge of man had been swept away
stern shuddered, more depressed by the
sight here than at any other place 80 far
visited
time - whispered he, awed by the horror
of It. "They boasted-like the financers.
the churchmen, the merchants, everybody !!
Boosted of their institutions, their city,
their country Ana now
out he clambercd presently, terribly de-
pressed by what he had witnessed, and set
to work laying in still more supplies from
the wrecked shops Now for the first time,
his wonder and astonlshment having large
ly abated, he began to feel the horror Of
this loneliness.
mo life here! Nobody to speak to
except the girl" he exclaimed aloud, the
sound OF his own voice uncanny In that
woodland street of death. "All gone.
everything My heavens, suppose didn't
have her How long could / go on alone
and keep my mind?"
The thought terrified him. He put II
resolutely away and went to work, Wher-
ever he stumbled upon anything of value he
eagerly seized It,
The labor, he found, kept him from the
subconsclous dread OF what might hap
pen to Beatrice or to himself II either
should meet with any mishap. The conse-
Quences OF either one dying, he knew. must
be horrible beyond all thinking for the sur
vivor.
Up Broadway he found much to keep
things which be garnered in the up-caught
hem of his bearskin, things of all kinds and
uses. He found n clay pipe-all the wooden
ones had vanished from the shop-and n
glass jar of tobacco.
These he took as priceless treasures.
More Jars Of edibles he discovered also a
stock of rare wines. Coffee and salt he
came upon. In the ruins of the little
French brassware Shop, opposite the Fiat
iron, he made rich haul OF cups and
plates and still servlceable lamp.
Strangely enough. 1t still had oil in II.
The fluid, Theoretically sealed in. had not
been able to evaporate.
At last when the lengthening shadows
in Madison Forest warned him that day
was ending, he betook himself heavy
laden, once more back past the spring, and
so through the path which already was
beginning to be visible back to the shelter
of the Metropolitan.
Now for n great surprise for the girl ="
thought he labOriously toiling up the stair
with his burden: What will she say
wonder, when she sees all these house,
keeping treasures?" Eagerly he hastened
But before he had reached the third
story he heard cry from above. Then
spatter of revolver-shots punctured the air
He stopped listening in alarm
Beatrice Oh Beatrice 70 he hailed, his
voice falling fiat and stihed in those ruin
GUS passages,
Another shot.
ANSWER" painted Stern. whats the
matter now?"
Hastily he put down his burden. and
spurred by a great terror bounded up the
broken stairs.
'Merciful heaven =! stammered he
Into their little shelter their home, he
ran. calling her name.
No reply came
Stern stopped short, his face Iivid gray.
The girl was gone!