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THE CHRISTIAN NATION.
Vol. 61.
A R O U N D T H E O L D A R M C H A I R
"I love it, I love it,
And who shall dare
To chide me for loving
The Old Arm Chair."
the kids! I couldn't get a stroke o'
work nowhere."
"O!" she cried again, and rushing
to a desk began to pull out the drawers.
A sparkling brooch, rings, a roll
of banknotes—she offered thein eagerly.
A WATCHMAN'S JOB. so much depending on it. Poor Biddy "Yes, thank God!"
By Mrs. Mary A. P. Stansbury. cried so bitterly when she told me of A BATTLE POR LIFE.
"Take them! take them! i wish
The day was keenly cold and a her mother's illness that I hadn't the The man lifted the baby with there were more!"
shrewd northwest wind whirled heart to keep her back. It isn't as if strange gentleness and laid it across The man moved backward, dra-svlne
clouds of finely comminuted dust I were in the least afraid. Baby and his knees. A mass of damp tumbled himself up. >
along the frozen surface of the I will sleep snug as two bugs in a curls clustered about the small, "No, ma'am, I won't take any!"
ground. The driver of a huge 'coalwagon,.
drawn up in a narrow alley, will be over."
the blue eyes. The tiny clenched the whole world in my handit
rug and, before we know it, the night fiushed face and a dull glaze obscured "But you saved my baby! if i had
was discharging his load of black "That's my brave girl! And see hands fought the air and ever hoarser wouldn't pay you for that!"
diamonds through a basement-window here,. Mary, if I carry this deal came the strangling breath.
"That's just it, ma'am. You don't
and whistling at 'his chilly task. The through as I hope to do, I wouldn't In a moment the mother had returned.
Her hands were shaking and the time I was holdin' the boy in my arms
understand, I can't take pay. All the
cheerful sound attracted the attention wonder if you should get that bracelet
you admired so much!"
water splashed upon the tray she car­
I was livin' over the time when me
of a second man slouching aimtessly
along the opposite side of the street. The face of the man in the shado\< ried. The man gave her a keen look. an' Maggie brought our little Tom
He paused a moment and crossed grew yet darker.
"Non o' that, ma'am!" he said
over.
"iBracelets!" he muttered, "and us sharply. "This here's a tight
"Say, pard," said he, approaching —starving!"
squeeze!"
the great truck, "could ye use a He shifted his position slightly for The woman's slender ligure straightened
as to the stroke of a whiplash.
helper"
the relief of his numbed limbs. Suddenly
he started leaning eagerly for­
'^Can you save him" she gasped.
The grimy laborer straightened his
bent back, leaning upon his heavy ward.
"No, I can't—not alone! Bnt workin'
together—me an' you—I allow we
shovel.
Slowly his expression changed.
"I can't say as I 'could," was the Something strange and sinister min­
can. Only you can't let go of your
answer. "Work's so terrible scarce
and val'able that I can't afford to
split up a job. There's the missus an'
the kids, ye see."
The other's face fell.
"I'm in the same fix" he explained,
"only worse. Since Smith & Howard
shut down a month ago I haven't
been able to get so much as a smell
of a job. I've traipsed the streets—
miles an' miles every day. I tell ye
it's fierce when a man able and willin'
to work as I am, can't git a stroke
to do. My wife's sick, the rent's past
due, an' there wasn't a whole loaf
this mornin'. I'd about as lief jump
off the bridge an' end it all as go
home!"
After the wagon had rolled jolting
and rumbling jaway, the idle man
still lingered, sheltered a little from
the searching wind and screened from
the sight of passers-by in a shallow
recess of the wall. He shrank closer
to the brick as the early lamplighter
approached upon his round,
"If a 'cop should see me, he'd make
me move on," he said to himself bitterly,
"I'm tired o' movin' _on. Pushed
an' crowded an' kicked like a stray
dog while the swells on the avenoo
go streakin' by in their cars! What's "Do you know anything about babies"
they ever done to deserve it And
the women alongside of 'em in furs
and diamonds—there ain't one of 'em
as could beat my Maggie for looks as
she was when I married her! An' now
see her, poor thing! It's a shame!"
UNGUARDED.
At that moment the front door of
the house opened and a gentleman
emerged carrying a small portmanteau.
The tones of his voice as he
lingered on the porch came distinctly
to the ears of the skulker.
'It's too bad, Mary dear, to leave
you alone like this. If I'd had the
least idea ot Bridget's being away, I
would have called off the trip. I've
more than half a mind to do so now."
"But you can't possibly, John, with
gled with its rebellious discontent,
transforming it, as with a premonition
of guilt.
The lamplight shining upon the
basement-window, opened for the delivery
of the coal, showed it to have
been left unfastened!
When the footsteps of the departing
householder grew faint in the distance,
the man crept from the shelter
of the wall and disappeared.
THE MAN ON THE LANDING.
Some six or seven hours later a
woman rushed frantically down the
front stairway of the same isolated
house, automatically pressing an electric
button as she ran. In the sudden
flood of light which followed she saw
herself confronted on the firstlanding
by a masked man ho'lding a revolver.
"Stop! Don't scream!" he hissed,
covering her with the weapon.
Her only answer was to strike the
him, the mother devoured with her
eyes every relaxed line of the darling
gleaming barrel aside carelessly as if features.
it had been no more than a fieldglass. A voice broke the tense silence.
The man sprang to seize her, but she "He'll be all right now, ma'am. I
eluded his grasp.
reckon I'll be goin'."
"My baby's dying!" she shrieked. She started to her feet. The savior
"I must have a doctor, and the tele­ophone won't work!" Then, whirling mask, was standing at her elbow.
her boy, still wearing his black
about,, she demanded:
"No, no! • I forgot. How selfish I
am! Stay with him, please until I
"I should say so! I've got five!" His
voice broke.
She caught at his rough sleeve.
"•Come with me then!"
Her feet flew up the stairs, followed
by the heavier tread of the burglar.
Through the open door of a chamber
came the terrible sound, which,
once heard, can never be mistaken—
the long, whistling Intake of a child's
struggling breath. The mother fell
on her knees at the bedside.
"What is it" she wailed. "What
never been ill before in his life, O!
wuai shall I do"
"Do just what I tell ye, ma'am. You
go downstairs and fetch me some
vinegar an' sugar an' a glass o' water
an' a spoon. An' some spirits o' camphor
an' sweet oil. Have ye got 'em"
nerve. You've got to mind every word
I say an' wait on me foot an' hand!
Do you get me"
"Yes, O yes!" she cried, and
trembled no more.
Then the fight began. The time,
dead of night, the field, a lonely
room, the combatants—on the one
side a masked general suddenly appearing
out of nefarious mystery, with
his army of one, reinforced by the
spiritual forces of love, courage and
unflagging will—on the other, the awful
"Shadow cloked from head to
foot," silent,, implacable, the shadow
of death!
Was it an hour that had passed—
or an eternity
The child lay sleeping on the white
pillow—the breath coming softly
through his parted lips. Bending over
come back."
She was gone without waiting for
his answer, to return in a few minutes
with a bowl of fragrant, steaming coffee
and a plate piled with bread and
meat which she placed on a table with
a gesture of invitation.
She watched as he ate,
"Why! you were famished," she
said,
"I hadn't touched a mouthful for
twenty-four hours," he answered
simply.
"O! and that was why—" Flushing
ails him''
and stammering, she left the sentence
"Don't you know" said the man in unfinished.
astonishment. "It's croup, ot course. "No. ma'am!" He spoke quickly.
Hain't you got any medicine for it" "That wa'n't the reason. I'd never 'a'
"No, no: Not one drop! He has done it for myself, but—Maggie and
through just such another spell as
that, I ain't never been much on religion,
but I'll own up to prayin' that
night, an' it did seem-, just when we'd
lost hope, that God gave him back.
But that didn't give me the right to
disgrace him by givin' him a thief tor
a father. I'm through with that. I
couldn't even be tempted no more. If
we starve, we'll starve honest"
"But take a little—five dollarsjust
a doctor's fee! You've earned it
honestly."
"No," he reiterated. "I'd rather not.
You know what I came here for. Well,
something's jacked me up, an' I've
got an odd feelin' that my luck's
changed. Anyhow I'm goin' to put up
a game flght."
He stepped to the bedside and look.
ed long at the sleeping child.
"He's a dandy lit-tle fellow," he said
at length. "Would ye mind if I—kiss
him"
"Kiss him!" The mother's tone
thrilled like a taut string. "If il
weren't for you he wouldn't be here
to be kissed!"
The man stooped and touched the
fair brow with awkward tenderness^
The boy stirred slightly, the light
breaths parting his lips in easy
rhythm.
"t must be a-goin' now There's just
one thing I'd like to have you, know,
ma'am. I shouldn't 'a' hurt ye noways.
I knew ye was alone. The gun was
p, bluff."
"Don't. I understand that—now.
Won't you shake hands"
Her soft, white hand lay for a moment
in his rough palm.
"And here is my husband's card
with his office address. He will be
at home after two days. He will help
you find something to do."
"Thank ye kindly, ma'am, an' goodby"
HOME ,A.GA1X.
He descended the stairs and passed
out at the street-door. His tired hody
responded to the stimulus of the food
he had eaten, but his starving. stifled
soul was at last feeding upon subtler
nutriment. Unconsciously he held his
head high and walked with firm step.
It was a long way to the dingycrowded
tenement which he had left
(Continued on page 12.)