Chapter 7

"We have started an improvement school for Sunday evenings, in which the great story is told in lectures and fine photographs thrown on a screen. And not only the great story, but any story calculated to inspire and enlighten the youthful mind. The best of the world's work and art and certain of the great novels will be presented in this way. I am going to get the great men of the world to give us three-minute sermons on the phonograph. Thus I hope to make it possible for our people to hear the voices and sentiments of kings, presidents, premiers, statesmen, and prophets--the men and women who are making history.

"We have started a small country club where poor boys and girls can enjoy billiards, bowling, golf, and tennis. Any boy or girl in this town who has a longing for better things is sought and found by our ministers, and all kinds of encouragement are offered. People and clergy of almost every faith that is known here in Pointview are working side by side for one purpose. Think of that! The revolution has been complete and mainly peaceful. As to the expense of it all, we tax the rich, and for the rest we temper the wind to the length of their wool.

"Of course, there were certain people who didn't like it, and among them was Deacon Joe. He and four others hired a minister, and sat in lonely sorrow in the old church every Sunday, until the expense sickened them. Then the Deacon got mad at the town, and refused to be seen in it.

"'Reach everybody,' had been one of our mottoes, and Deacon Joe said that he guessed we wouldn't reach him."

XVI

WHICH PRESENTS AN INCIDENT IN OUR CAMPAIGN AGAINST NEW NEW ENGLAND

"We had some adventures in new New England which ought to be set down. Here's one of them.

"The old village of Trent lies back in the hills, a little journey from Pointview, on the shores of a pleasant river. To the unknowing traveler, who approaches from either hilltop, it has a peaceful and inviting look. But the rutted, rocky road begins at once to excite suspicion. A bad road is an indication and a producer of degeneracy in man and beast. It tends to profanity, and if it went far would probably lead to hell. Trent itself is one of the little modern hells of New England. There are the venerable and neatly fashioned houses of the old-time Yankee--the peaked roofs and gables, the columns, the cozy verandas, the garden spaces. But the old-time Yankees are gone. The well-kept gardens are no more. Many of the houses are going to ruin. One is an Italian tenement. The others are inhabited by coachmen, chauffeurs, gardeners, mill-hands, and degenerate Yankees. The inn is a mere barroom. Sounds of revelry and the odor of stale beer come out of it. In front are teams of burden, abandoned, for a time, by their drivers, and sundry human signs of decay loafing in the shadow of the old lindens. Among them are the seedy remnants of a once noble race. They are fettered by 'rheumatiz' and the disordered liver. They move like boats dragging their anchors. To make life tolerable their imaginations need assistance. They are like the Flub Dubs of lost Atlantis. Each imagines himself the greatest man in the village. They talk in loud words. They quarrel and fight over the crown. So it has been a brawling, besotted community.

"Trent's leading citizen is a Yankee politician who owns most of its real estate and derives a profit from its lawless traffic. Trent has been his enterprise.

"Knowles went over there one day to conduct a funeral, which was interrupted by a dog-fight under the coffin and nearly broken up by a row over two dollars which had been found in a pocket of the dead man.

"We opened a club-house next to the hotel, and began a campaign for the regeneration of Trent. Soon we discovered that its one officer was unwilling to arrest offenders against law and order. We had him removed and a new man put in his place. This man was set upon and severely beaten, and lost interest in the good work. Then Harry applied for the job and got it. He took with him a force of husky young men--mostly college boys. The first day on duty he arrested in the street a drunken man who carried in his hands a small sack of potatoes. The latter whistled for help, and the enemies of law and order swarmed out of their haunts. Harry had become an expert ball pitcher, noted for speed and accuracy. He floored his man and took possession of the potatoes, with which he proceeded to defend himself. Only two balls were pitched, but they held the enemy in check until Harry's deputies had rushed out of the club-house. A flying wedge scattered the crowd. No further violence was needed. The ruffians saw that he meant business and had the nerve and muscle to carry it through, and nothing more was necessary--just then.

"They took the drunken man to the lock-up, and came back and got a bartender, and led him in the same path. Harry has the situation well in hand, and is the most popular man in our community. Every day we have items to put to his credit, and nothing to charge against his reputation. There's something going on at the club every evening, and the rooms are crowded. Those men who had sat day by day brawling under the lindens now spend most of their leisure in the reading and card rooms. Peace reigns in Trent. Such is the power of united benevolence working with the strong hand and the courageous spirit."

XVII

WHICH PRESENTS A DECISIVE INCIDENT IN OUR CAMPAIGN AGAINST OLD NEW ENGLAND

"Harry was pretty well disabled with affection for a time. He was like a Yankee with the 'rheumatiz,' and you know when a Yankee gets hold of the 'rheumatiz' he hangs on. It don't often get away from him. It becomes an asset--a conservational asset--an ever-present help in time of haying.

"Since Harry's return the tactics of Marie had been faultless. Her eyes had said, 'Come on,' while her words had firmly held him off. He shook the tree every time they met, but the squirrel wouldn't come down.

"It was a hard part for Marie to play, between the pressure of two handsome boys and her duty to grandpapa. The Reverend Robert had won the favor of the old gentleman by turning from tennis to agriculture for exercise. He had gone over to the Benson farm and helped with the spring's work; he had supper there every Sunday evening, after which he conducted a little service for the Deacon's benefit. He was pressing, as they say in golf, and it didn't improve his game. I saw that Marie was not quite so fond of him. I had maintained an attitude of strict neutrality, but could not fail to observe that Marie had begun to lean.

"'You have captured the rest of Pointview, and you ought to be able to take Benson's Hill,' Marie had said to Harry. 'Grandfather is the last enemy of your crusade.'

"It was a timely touch on the accelerator, and Harry began to speed up a little.

"'The farm is so well defended, and there's nothing I dread so much as a hickory cane,' the boy had answered. 'The last visit I made to the farm I wondered whether I was going to convert him to my way of thinking, or he was going to convert me to jelly.'

"Indeed, Deacon Joe stood firm as a mountain. People were saying that the minister would win in a walk, when Marie converted her grandfather by the most remarkable bit of woman's strategy that I ever observed. It was Napoleonic.

"One day in May, Harry came, much excited, to my office. Deacon Joe was about to move to his island, a mile or so off shore. He was going to take Marie with him for an indefinite period. No boat would be permitted to land there except his own and the Reverend Robert's. Marie would be a sort of prisoner. That day she had told him of the plan of her grandfather. In Harry's opinion Knowles had suggested it.

"'Where is the girl's mother?' I asked.

"'On some Cook's tour in Europe, and the old man is crazy as a March hare,' said my young friend. 'He's got a lot of bulldogs over there, and his hired men have been instructed to shoot a hole in any boat that comes near.'

"I went over to the Benson homestead that afternoon, and found Deacon Joe sitting on the piazza.'

"'How are you?' I asked.

"'Not very stout,' said he; 'heart flutters like a ketched bird.'

"'What are you doing for it?'

"'Doctor give me some medicine; I fergit the name of it, but it is the stuff they use to blow up safes with.'

"'Nitroglycerin! The very thing! I hope they will succeed in blowing up your safe.'

"I was pretty close to the old man, and was always very frank with him. He liked opposition, and was as fond of warfare as an Old Testament hero.

"'What, sir?' he asked.

"'There are some folks that have got to be blowed up before you can get an old idea out of their heads,' I went on. 'They are locked up with rust. That's what's the matter with you, Deacon. Your brain needs to be blowed open an' aired. You stored it full of ideas sixty years ago and locked the door for fear they'd get away. They should have been taken out and sorted over at least once a year, and some thrown into the fire to make room for better ones. If life does you any good, if it really teaches you anything, your brain must keep changing its contents.'

"The Deacon hammered the table with his cane, as he shouted:

"'You cussed fool of a lawyer! Don't you know that truth never changes? Truth, sir, is eternal.'

"Then I took the bat. 'Truth often changes, but error is eternal,' I said. 'You know when you want to prove anything, these days, you quote from the memoirs of a great man. Well, I was reading the memoirs of the late Doctor Godfrey Vogeldam Guph not long ago. He told of a man who was very singular, but not so singular as the doctor seemed to think. This man knew more than any human being has a right to know. He knew the plans of God, and had formed an unalterable opinion about all his neighbors. Then he locked up his mind and guarded it night and day, for fear that somebody would break in and carry off its contents. And it did seem as if people wanted to get hold of his treasure, for they often came and asked about it, and some even questioned its value. He said, "Away with you--truth is eternal, and my soul is full and I will part with none of it."

"'Meanwhile the truth about things around him began to change. Neighbor Smith became a good man. Neighbor Brown became a bad man. Priscilla Jones, who had been a vain and foolish woman, was one of the saints of God. The foundations of the world had changed. In a generation it had grown millions of years older and different--wonderfully different! Even God himself had changed, it would seem. His methods were not as people had thought them. His character was milder. Everything had changed but this one man. Now when he died and came to St. Peter, the latter said to him:

"'"Who were your friends?"

"'The new-comer thought a minute, and mentioned the names of some people who had been long dead. "They know the truth about me," he said.

"'"Ah, but the truth changes, and they haven't seen you in many years," said St. Peter.

"'"But I have not changed," said the man. "I am just as when they saw me."

"'"Then you are a fool or the chief of sinners," said St. Peter. "Behold a man as changeless as the flint-stone, who has made no friends in over forty years! That is all I need to know about you. Take either gate you please."

"'"One leads to Heaven--doesn't it?" said the new-comer, in great alarm.

"'"Yes, but you wouldn't recognize the place. There isn't a soul in paradise that cares which way you go--not a soul in all its multitude that will be glad to see you. They have better company. Stranger! go which way you please, Heaven will be as uncomfortable as hell."

"Deacon Joe gave me close attention, and I saw that my sword had nicked him a little. Anything that affected his hope of Paradise was sure to engage his thought. He shook his head, and said that he didn't believe it. But he couldn't fool me. I knew that the seed of change had struck into him.

"I gave him another thrust. 'Deacon, you knew Harry Delance when he was a fool. But the truth about _him_ has changed. He is now a hard-working, level-headed young fellow, and you ought to be his friend.'

"'Wal, I like the way he cuffed them fellers over at Trent,' said the Deacon. 'He pounded 'em noble--that's sartin. Mebbe if he licks a few more men I'll begin to like him.'

"'Give him a chance,' was my answer. 'I hear that you are going to move for the summer.'

"'Goin' to my island to-morrow,' said Deacon Joe. 'I'm sick of the autymobiles an' the young spendthrifts hangin' around Marie, an' her extravagance, an' the new church nonsense, an' the other goin's-on. I've got a good house there, an' Marie an' I are goin' to rest an' stroll around without bein' run over until her mother comes back. The only trouble I have there is the hired men. They rob me right an' left. I wish somebody would lick them.'

"'You really need a young man like Harry,' I urged. 'And Marie needs him. She'll be lonely over there.'

"'Not a bit,' said the Deacon. 'She'll have a saddle-horse, and young Knowles can come over once a week, if he wants to. I hear he's done splendid lately.'

"'He's doing well, but I am inclined to think that Harry is the better man,' I said, taking sides for the first time.

"'I don't believe it,' was the answer of Deacon Joe. 'Knowles is getting pretty sensible, and his voice is stronger.'

"The Deacon moved next day, and when Sunday came I went over in a boat with the Reverend Robert at eight o'clock in the morning. I was taking a stroll on the beach when I met him, and he asked me to go along. It was just a social call, he explained. Incidentally, he was going to pray and read a Scripture lesson at the Deacon's request. As we left the dock, Harry came riding by on one of his thoroughbreds and I waved my hand to him. When we got to the Deacon's landing, I said to Robert:

"'As I am not invited, perhaps you had better announce me to Deacon Joe, while I stay here in the boat.'

"'All right,' he said, as he gaily jumped ashore and tied the painter rope.

"Robert hurried in the direction of the little house, and had covered half the distance, when a bulldog came sneaking toward him. Robert saw the dog, and ran for a tree. He was making handsome progress up the trunk of the tree when the dog reached him, and, seizing a leg of his trousers, began to surge backward. The cloth parted at the knee, and between the pulling of man and dog, Robert lost about all the lower end of one trousers-leg. The hired man came running out with some more dogs, and said:

"'It's all right, Mr. Knowles, you can come down. I hope he didn't hurt you.'

"'Excuse me,' said the young man, 'but I think I'll stay here a while.'

"Three dogs stood at the foot of the tree looking anxiously upward.

"'They won't hurt you while I'm here,' said the hired man.

"'I won't take any chances,' said Robert. 'Go shut up your lions, and I'll come down.'

"'Who's that in the boat?' the hired man asked.

"'Mr. Potter,' said Robert.

"'Well, he mustn't land 'less the old man says so--I don't care who he is.'

"Just then the hired man changed his position suddenly, and stood looking into the sky. I turned and saw an aeroplane coming down like some great bird from the hills, behind the village. It sailed high above the spires, and coasted down to a level some fifty feet above the water-plane between shore and island. In a minute or so it roared over me, circled the point, and came down in the open field that faced the Deacon's cottage. Dogs and chickens flew and ran in great confusion as it swooped to earth. I knew that Harry and his new flier had reached the island of Deacon Joe, and I hurried ashore to see--well, 'to see what I could see,' as the old song has it. Harry jumped from his seat. The hired man ran toward him. Deacon Joe and Marie and a woman-servant hurried out-of-doors.

"In less time than it takes to tell it, Harry had licked the hired man, and kicked two dogs in the belly till they ran for life, and shot another one, and was chasing a second hired man around the wood-shed. Not being able to run fast enough to do further damage, Harry came to the astonished group in front of the house and caught Marie in his arms and kissed her.

"Then he turned to the Deacon, and said: 'Sir, I will keep off your island if you wish, but I do not propose to be bluffed when I come to pay my compliments to you and Marie.'

"Deacon Joe was dumb with astonishment. The young minister came down out of his tree and walked slowly toward the group, with rags flapping over one extremity of his union-suit. He looked like a man with a wooden leg.

"'How did ye get here?' Deacon Joe demanded of Harry.

"'Jumped from the top of Delance's Hill and landed right here,' said the latter.

"'In that awful-lookin' thing?' the Deacon asked, pointing with his cane and squinting at the big biplane.

"'In that thing,' Harry answered.

"'How long did it take ye?'

"'About five minutes.'

"'It's impossible,' said the Deacon, as he approached the biplane and began to look at it.

"'But you'll see me jump back again in a little while,' Harry assured him.

"'Geehanniker!' the Deacon exclaimed. 'Jumped from the top of Delance's Hill an' licked my caretaker an' chased a hired man an' sp'ilt two dogs an' treed the minister and kissed the lady o' the house--all in about ten minutes. I guess you're a good deal of a feller.'

"It was the kind of thing that warmed the warrior soul of the Deacon.

"'Hello--here's a dead dog,' said Harry. 'If you'll have one of the men bring me a shovel I'll bury him there in the garden. Meanwhile you may tell me how much I owe you for the two dogs.'

"'I guess about twenty-five dollars,' said the Deacon.

"'How much off for cash?' Harry asked.

"'Wal, sir, if you ain't goin' to ask me to charge it, ten dollars would do,' the Deacon allowed.

"'There's a wonderful power in cash,' said Harry, as he produced the money.

"'You're gettin' some sense in your head,' said the Deacon.

"The shovel was brought; and Harry, who had expected to shoot a dog or two and had been practising for this very act, put his victim under three feet of soil in as many minutes. That also pleased the Deacon.

"'Purty cordy, too,' the latter said, as he turned to Marie. 'Now, girl, take your choice. I want to know which is which, an' stop bein' bothered about it.'

"She made her choice then and there, and as to which of the two it may have been you will have no doubt when I tell you that Marie had planned every detail in this bit of strategy and Harry had been man enough to put it through.

"'You know Zeb's commandment has been a help to me,' he said, when I offered congratulations. '"Be brave with your life, for it is very long."'

"The Deacon has changed. His heart and mind are open. Every Sunday you may see him in a front seat, drinking at the new fount of inspiration; and it is a rule of his life to make a new friend every day. I'm inclined to think that the old man has been saved at last.

"Yes, we try to reach everybody in one way or another."

THE END