About a week after Mr. Herne had told his wife the history of Julia Hammond, Mr. Hammond, on going to the store for some trifle, was saluted by Saunders, the merchant, with, "Heard the news, Hammond?"
Hammond said: "No. What is it?"
"Why, Ben West is going to the Klondike," said Saunders.
"Going to the Klondike!" said Hammond. "Why, I don't see what he has to go there for. He is the only child, his father owns a fine ranch, and he is always getting big jobs on roads and ditches, making three to four dollars a day, because he can go ahead and knows just what to do and how to do it. He has great muscular strength and can lift about twice as much as any ordinary man."
"Oh, he wants to make a stake," said Saunders. "He is ambitious."
Wescott spoke up and said: "Ben is a rustler; he will get there every time."
Hammond said: "He has lots of vim and pluck; has got sand and backbone to him."
"Yes, he is a hummer," said Saunders.
"I tell you he has got some ambition and grit," said Stearns, admiringly.
It was not long before the news spread all over Orangeville, that Ben West was going to the Klondike, and the abilities which he possessed as a worker and money maker, and an all round good fellow were the theme of conversation in many a household and on many a ranch.
When the news reached the ears of the young ladies of Orangeville,most of them felt a shade of disappointment, because Ben had been good to them.
Not having shown any decided preference for one, he devoted his attentions to many, and having a good fast team he was able to give the young ladies many a pleasant ride to dances, parties and church, so he was a great favorite with them all.
Just previous to Ben West's leaving Orangeville, a great farewell supper and dance was given him. The attendance was very large. The young ladies appeared in their best toilets. Julia looked superb and was very graceful in her deportment. This evening she "played her cards" with evident success, and the result was that as Ben West went home the feeling that had been flickering for some time had now broken out into a flame that fired his blood. Julia did indeed know her power and how to use it, and she intended that some one else should be restless and disturbed as well as herself. So that night there were two persons in Orangeville who tried to sleep but could not. Ben West realized that night that he had become a willing slave. Sometimes the thought seemed pleasant, then again it would be galling in the extreme.
A few of the boys went to Roseland to see Ben off, and they had a time "all to themselves" as they called it in Roseland, the night previous to his departure. Ben West left with the best wishes and prayers for good luck following him from all his friends.
When a rising, popular young man leaves his home and neighborhood for the purpose of making his fortune, he is full of great expectations, and this thought is shared by all his friends. He departs with the best wishes following him, for his companions say: "If a man can strike it rich he can." There does not seem the least doubt in their minds regarding his success, for they have unbounded confidence in him. Now the young man leaving is exceedingly alive to the expressions and sentiments of his friends, and he feels that he must succeed or die in the attempt. His attachment to name and fame and his personal self is so strong,and he is so susceptible and negative to the good opinion of those around him, that he feels he will never want to come back and show himself among his friends unless he has struck it rich, for he knows there is nothing that succeeds like success.
Talk about the idolatry of the heathen! Is there any idolatry in the world that is stronger than that which is found in the so-called "Christian" world in the year 1900? Where do you find any greater idolatry than that which is bestowed on money and on woman? There are more devotees at these two shrines than are to be found worshipping the Divine. Look at a young man fortunate in the financial world. The first year in speculations he makes fifty thousand dollars. The second year he is worth two hundred thousand dollars. The third year he has made half a million. The fourth year he has become a millionaire. Now listen to the eulogies and encomiums passed upon him. He is the lion of the hour, the hero of the day, for he has won the victory that to win fifty thousand other men had tried and failed. He has attained the great end for which most men think they were born, money making. What a number of young ladies see so many excellent qualities in the rising young millionaire, the "Napoleon of Finance." Note how his faults are all glossed over by their mammas, who are ready to act as if they had received a retaining fee as his attorneys, so ready are they to defend him at all times to their daughters and friends. It seems to matter little about his intellectual gifts or moral character. His financial success covers a multitude of sins and weaknesses. Should a young lady raise one or two slight objections in regard to the young millionaire's character, her mother says: "Why, dear, all young men must sow their wild oats. You must not expect to find a pure young man. All young men are fast more or less. It would be hard to find an unmarried man that is moral. After they are married they get steady and settle down."
Should a young lady of moderate means marry a young man who has made a million dollars, there is more rejoicing by themembers of her family than if she had become a saint or a great angel of light. She thinks she has attained the great end of her existence in marrying a millionaire and making for herself name and fame and family position.
Should the young millionaire be a little liberal to a few of his friends, he becomes more to them than the Lord himself. Other young men, seeing and knowing all this, are putting forth every effort and straining every nerve to be successful financiers. They realize that the power of money is so great to-day in the eyes of many, that unless they are successful money getters, they are no good to themselves or their friends. They parody the verse in Proverbs something like this: "With all thy getting, get money; get it honestly if you can,but get it anyway."
Such is the gospel that is acted out in the commercial world to-day. All good intentions, all right convictions, all wise counsels of religious teachers, are side-tracked and become as a dead letter if they stand in the way to successful money making.
Ben West knew what the sentiment of the people of Orangeville was towards himself, and it fired his ambition to think of the expressions conveyed to him by his friends, and his heart was fired still more when he thought of the possibility of possessing the fine form of Julia Hammond. He made up his mind that he would be willing to endure all hardships, that he would leave no stone unturned in order to be successful; for he saw before him the chance of getting a fortune and the praise, adoration and admiration of the people of Orangeville.
The form of Julia Hammond seemed to float before the eyes of his mind day and night; and when he saw, in his imagination, that face with its sparkling black eyes, and the finely poised head, with its wavy black hair, her well-rounded bust, and the handsome figure, it made him feel like removing a mountain of dirt or penetrating the bowels of the earth, to get the shiny metal which was to open for him the gates of his earthly paradise.
One afternoon two men were digging post-holes and setting in redwood posts on the side of one of the main roads in Orangeville. Everything had been exceedingly quiet, not a team was seen since dinner. Nothing in the way of excitement had happened to relieve the monotony of their work. They were interested and delighted when they heard a noise, and, looking down the road, saw a vehicle coming, but it was not near enough to tell whose it was. When it got a little nearer one of the men said: "Why, Alfred, it is the old man Wheelwright and his girl Stella."
Alfred replied to James, the man who has just spoken: "Stella was to school at San José, and her father has been to Roseland to meet the train which arrived this morning and bring her home."
"How she has grown," remarked James, "since she went away. She has improved in her looks very much."
"Yes," said Alfred, "I think she will make a fine woman, for she has a bright, intelligent eye, and they say she is real smart in her studies, away ahead of most of the girls round here. She seems so different to them. She comes of good stock; her mother is the brightest and best woman in Orangeville, and her father is a well-posted man."
"You must be kind of stuck on her and her folks," replied his companion. "I don't go so much myself on girls who have their heads in books all the time. What does a fellow want with such a girl as that? She may be all right to be a school marm, or woman's rights talker, but I don't want any of them. I say to hell with book women. Give me a girl like Nance Slater. Sheis round and plump, don't care much for books or papers, but is bright and laughing all the day. She is the girl to have lots of fun with, and when it comes to making a man a good wife, why, she is the best cook in Orangeville. I was over to Slater's on an errand the other morning about ten o'clock, and Nance was looking as pretty as a picture; her cheeks had the blush of the peach on them; her eyes were sparkling bright, her lips red, and when she laughed, her teeth looked like the best and whitest ivory you ever saw. She had on such a pretty, light, calico wrapper, and a white apron with a bib, and was busy taking out of the oven some mince pies and just putting in some apple pies. She had a kettle of doughnuts a frying, and a whole lot of cookie paste ready to cut out and bake. She said: 'James, you must sample my doughnuts. Mother, give James a cup of coffee to go with them; there is some hot on the stove.' Nance is a trump. She is straight goods. The trouble with those Wheelwrights is they live awful close, and instead of cooking good meals, spend their time in reading books. They starve in the kitchen to sit in the parlor. The devil take the books, I say. I wouldn't give a book girl barn room for all the good she would be to me."
Alfred replied: "That's all right; every fellow to his own girl, I say. It would not do for all to be after the same one. As for me, I like Stella. She has some stability of character. There is something interesting about a girl like that, and if she don't care about doing all the cooking, why, I can help her, if she will only let me enjoy her company."
The sun went down and the men went each to his own home, being content in their mind that each man should have his own choice.
Stella was the only daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Wheelwright, she being the only child they ever had had. At the time she returned from school she was sixteen and would have one year more in school. She was very precocious, a thorough student, and would allow nothing to divert her from her studies. She wasat that age when the intellectual part of her nature predominated, though the spiritual was just beginning to tinge her mind with its coloring. She possessed a strong individuality; she was a born investigator; would accept no statements without examining them, and rebelled against a great many of the customs and usages of society. She did her own thinking, and nothing seemed to please her more than to take her investigating axe and cut away some of the roots which held her free spirit in bondage. Problems seemed to be crowding on her mind thick and fast, and she could not take the time from her studies to do the necessary amount of reading and thinking to resolve them, and she was looking forward to the time when her last year would expire. During this vacation she took much physical exercise, for she did not believe in developing one side of her nature at the expense of the other. She rode horseback and climbed the sides of steep mountains, mixed with the young people in their recreations, such as camping parties, picnics, and social entertainments. In company she was bright, witty, and entertaining. She had no fear; was full of confidence, and was better balanced than her companions in that she was not carried away by pleasures and the company of the opposite sex.
When she was not away from home on camping or picnic excursions, she would find time to visit the cabin of an old man who lived alone, and had sore eyes so that he could not see to read. She would read to him whatever he liked, cheer him up by her bright, happy talk, and when she left the old man often thought to himself that her comings were like angels' visits, for she seemed to lift him up completely out of himself into a new world. When she laid her head on her pillow at night, after having spent the evening with old Andrews, she thought how much greater a satisfaction she derived from hearing that old man say, on her leaving him: "God bless you, Stella, you always bring sunshine to me," than she did from even the most enjoyable pleasure excursion.
She bestowed the attractions and charm of her social and intellectual nature less on those outside than those inside her home. You saw her at her best when talking to her father and mother.
Some parents let their children outgrow them intellectually, so that there is a great gulf fixed between parents and children, the latter having nothing in common with the former. Mr. and Mrs. Wheelwright tried as much as possible to keep themselves in advance of their daughter's intellectual growth, so that they might always command her respect for their opinions, and that she might realize that in them she found two interesting, intelligent companions, whom she could love and confide in.
The relationship between many parents and their grown children is very unsatisfactory; for being on the material plane, there is nothing very permanent in their relationship. The grown son and his father have only in common business and social interests; that is their world; outside of that neither one has any life that he realizes.
It is the same with the grown daughters and their mother. Their life is mainly in the social and domestic world. Outside of that they apparently have no existence; but the true ideal parents and children are those whose life is in the intellectual and spiritual world. They cease to exist in each other's minds as parents and children, and realize a stronger and more permanent tie, and intellectual and spiritual union, which is blessed, glorious, and eternal. They realize daily that "In Him they live, and breathe, and have their being"; that they are immersed in an ocean of Divine love, and that Divine love permeates them all through and through; and that it is in that ocean of Divine love that they realize that they are one. They feel a blessed nearness and dearness and oneness to each other, though separated by oceans and continents, for they have realized through sweet experience that the same intelligent spiritual thought and love pulses through them all as if they were one organism.
One afternoon Mrs. Herne received a caller. It was Mrs. Cullom. She had met Mrs. Herne twice at parties and promised to call on her each time, but for various reasons she had not been able to fulfil her promise.
After the usual introductory talk, Mrs. Cullom said:
"Did you ever see Penloe or his mother, Mrs. Lanair?"
"No," said Mrs. Herne, "who are they?"
Mrs. Cullom replied: "They live up about a mile above where I do. It's rather lonesome where I live, but it is a very lonesome place where they live. It is not a good road over there. I don't suppose you were ever on that road were you?"
"No," said Mrs. Herne, "I have never been over there. Charles said it was out of the way and a poor road, being muddy in winter and very dusty in summer."
"Well," said Mrs. Cullom, "Mrs. Lenair has been on that place about two years. She seems pleasant, but so different from most women. The second time I called on her, I got there about two o'clock, and I thought I would have a nice afternoon chat. So I began talking to her about my work, and telling her how I worked my butter, and talking to her about my cooking, and I tried to get her to talk, but she would only say a few words about such things. About five minutes was as long as I could get her to talk about her butter and cooking. Why, some women would talk by the hour on such subjects. Now, she did not appear stuck up or proud, she seemed so pleasant, her face being very bright and pleasing; and there seemed to be such a feeling of restfulness about her that I liked to be with her; but she seems to have solittle to say about matters we are all so much interested in. I could not get her to talk about herself, so I asked about Penloe, if he was at home. She said, yes, he had returned from San Francisco last week; that he had been away three months. That surprised me, Mrs. Herne, because I did not think they were people who had money to spend in visiting and seeing the sights of a great city. Why, look at their place, it is not much; she sold the fruit on the trees for two hundred dollars, and outside of the orchard they have only pasture enough for four head of stock. Their house has four rooms, the kitchen is the only room I have been in, but it is kept very neat. I said to her: 'Does Penloe have much business in San Francisco?' She smiled and said he had business as long as he washed dishes in a restaurant. That just took my breath away, for to see Penloe you would think he would be the last man in the world to do work like that. I cannot tell you how he looks, but he looks so different from the young men about here; nothing like them at all. He has a face that I like, but I don't know him enough to say much to him.
"Well, after they had been on that place about eighteen months or so, I said to Dan one morning after breakfast, that I did not feel like going out to-day, but I wanted some one here to talk to, and I wished him to hitch up Puss and Bess and go right up and get Mrs. Lenair to come down and spend the day with me, and to tell her that when she wished to go home I would take her back. 'Now, if you don't get a move on you, Dan,' I said, 'you will come home and find a cold stove and no dinner and your cook gone.' Dan moved round like a cat on hot bricks. That kind of talk fetches men to time. I did not have to cook much for dinner because the day before was Dan's birthday. Dan had killed a veal two days previous and I made two kinds of rich cake, two kinds of pies, and some cream puffs. They were very rich. Dan is fond of high living, and he ate very heartily of it all. I laughed at him, and said I never saw a man that liked to dig his grave with his teeth so well as he did. So you see I could get upa good dinner for Mrs. Lenair without having to cook much. It was not long after Dan left before Mrs. Lenair was with me. Well, after she had taken off her things and we chatted awhile, I thought I would tell her the news, as she never goes out anywhere. So I said: 'Did you hear what a hard time Mrs. Dunn had in confinement? The doctor thought he would have to take the child with instruments;' but Mrs. Lenair kept looking out of the window, and all she said was, 'Is that so?' So I said: 'I suppose you have heard about Mrs. Warmstey's case. She had a doctor from Orangeville and two from Roseland.' Just as I said that, she rose from her chair and said so sweetly: 'Mrs. Cullom, I do want to go out and look at your flowers; they look beautiful from the window.'
"Well, I was clean took off my feet, because I was just beginning to tell the most interesting part of Mrs. Warmstey's case. I said: 'Why, yes, Mrs. Lenair,' and I went out with her. She began to be so chatty I thought she was some one else for awhile. She appeared delighted with my flowers, and called them such crack-jaw names, and told me all about their families, and what relation they were to each other. Why, to hear her talk, you would think flowers had babies, she went on so about male and female plants. Then she told me that flowers breathed, and told me all about their coloring, and how they attracted the bee and dusted themselves on him, and much more I cannot remember. She talked to and petted them as if they were alive. You would have thought she had been a flower herself, the way she went on. She said something about the pencilings and colorings of the Almighty being in the tulips.
"When we returned to the house my back was feeling kind of lame, and gave me one or two of those twister pains. I said: 'Oh, my back! It has got one of its spells on.' Mrs. Lenair said it would soon go away, and, to my surprise, it did. Only had it about half an hour, and generally those spells last me all day. I said: 'Mrs. Lenair, do you have any ailments? I never hear youcomplain, if you do.' She said she had not an ache nor pain in her body for a number of years. I threw my hands up in astonishment, and said: 'You don't say so?' 'That is the truth,' she said. And I believe her, for she looks ten years younger than she really is. 'Why,' I said, 'how different you are from the girls and women around here. Most all the girls not married are ailing more or less, and about every married woman has her aches and pains. I can't make you out.'
"Mrs. Lenair laughed, and said: 'If I were like other women I should be ailing as they are.' Well, I got up just as good a dinner as I knew how. I put on the table fried ham and eggs, baked veal, potatoes, peas, canned tomatoes, red currant jelly, fig preserve, canned nectarines, cream puffs, grape pie, lemon pie, plain cake, and frosted cake; and we had coffee, chocolate, and milk to drink. I did want her to make out a good meal, because I thought she never cooked much at home. Well, what do you think? I could not get her to eat any meat. 'Why,' I said, 'I would starve if I did not have meat two or three times a day with my meals.' She said she had not eaten meat for seventeen years, and was much better without it. She just ate a little potatoes, one egg, some nectarines, bread and butter, and drank a little milk. I told her she must try my cream puffs if she would not eat any cake or pie. At last I did get her to eat a cream puff. That woman don't eat much more than would keep a mouse alive, and yet she is so hearty and well. I told her as she ate so little, Dan and I would have to make up for her. And we did, for we ate as if it were a Thanksgiving dinner. Dan and I say it is our religion not to die in debt to our stomachs. After dinner I felt more like sleep than anything else, and I said, 'Mrs. Lenair, let you and me take a nap.' That seemed to please her, so she laid down on the lounge and I went and laid on my bed. About an hour later I returned to the room where I had left Mrs. Lenair.
"'Well,' I said, 'I have just had the boss sleep and feel so much better. I hope you had a good nap.'
"Mrs. Lenair said, 'I have had a pleasant time lying here, though I did not sleep any.'
"'Why,' I said, 'I could not lie that way. If I was not sleeping I would be nervous, and want to be sitting up or moving about.'
"Then I said to her: 'I should think you must get terribly lonesome up at your place, your son having been away so much, and you all alone with no one to talk to.'
"She said: 'I haven't known what it was to be lonesome since I have lived on the place.'
"'Why,' I said, 'I would not live like you do for ten dollars a day.' She smiled, and said, 'You could not.'
"'I don't see how you can stand it,' I said, 'for it is all I can do to keep from being lonesome here with Dan, and a team to take me anywhere. I have more callers in a week than you have in a year. I am fond of company and so is Dan.'
"Mrs. Lenair said: 'All you have just said, Mrs. Cullom, shows your life, your world; we all have different worlds,' she added.
"I could hardly understand just what she meant, so I changed the subject and thought I would talk to her about Penloe.
"'Is he home now,' I asked.
"She said, 'Yes,' he had got through his work and would be at home most of the time.
"I said: 'Did he ever do any of the kind of work he has been doing at the different places he worked at before he came to Orangeville? For he don't look to me,' I said, 'as if he had worked on a ranch or done road work much.'
"She said, 'He never had done hard work till we came to Orangeville, having only returned to this country from India about a month before coming here, and when we were in India, Penloe went to the University of Calcutta as soon as he was ready to enter as a student. I lived in that city nineteen years.'
"'Why, have you lived in India,' I said.
"Yes,' she answered. 'I left New York a year after I was married. My husband represented a New York company in India.He died six years ago, but we continued to reside there until Penloe finished his University course.'
"I was clean taken back by what she said. I said, 'It's none of my business, Mrs. Lenair, but I don't see why a fine looking young man like Penloe, with the education you say he has had, don't get light, pleasant work, if he has to work out, instead of working at such hard places with the toughest crowds of men.'
"All she said was: 'That is his work.'
"Why, Mrs. Herne, do you know that he worked on the streets of the city of Chicago, and for three months with a gang of a thousand men on the Coast Railroad between Los Angeles and San Francisco! Then he was at the Oakdale cattle ranch, cowboying it, with that fast gang of boys that they keep there. Then he worked for awhile at the Simmons ranch, which is four miles from Roseland, and Simmons always keeps the hardest crew of men on his place. They go to Roseland every other night or so and dance at those low dancing-houses with bad women. They get drunk, fight, and swear all the time. Simmons' ranch has got the name of being the toughest place to work anywhere round here.
"One day when Dan was in Roseland, he saw a man he knew from the Simmons ranch, so he thought he would hear what the fellow had to say about Penloe, as we both are curious to find out all we can about that singular young man.
"Dan said: 'Is Penloe working on the Simmons ranch?'
"The man said: 'Yes.'
"Dan said: 'How does he get along?'
"'Get along!' the man said. 'All I have to say is I wish I could get along as well.'
"Dan said: 'What kind of a chap is he, anyway? I kind of want to know, as he is a neighbor of mine.'
"'Well,' the man said, 'I will tell you, and then you can judge for yourself. I never heard him swear or knew of his telling a lie; he don't drink or tell smutty yarns, or have anything to dowith bad women. The boss says he works well, and when he is not at work he never joins the boys in their foolish talk. He is by himself a great deal, praying, I reckon, but he is very sociable if any one will talk sense. Let me tell you what he did which will show you what kind of a man he is. One cold, chilly night in December, when we were all sleeping in the barn, each man having his own blankets, the boys had just turned in when a tramp came in and asked if he could sleep in the barn. One of the boys said, 'Yes.' The fellow lay down on the hay without any blankets, and as soon as he was laid down his teeth began to chatter and he shook all over, for he had a chill. Penloe instantly got up and lit a lantern, took his blankets over to the tramp and said: 'Here, brother, you have got a chill. Take my blankets and roll yourself up in them; you will be better in the morning.' From where I lay I could just see the tramp's face, for Penloe was holding the lantern so the light went on his face. The fellow looked up at Penloe thunderstruck. I guess he never had a man speak to him that way before. He said: 'Well, stranger, you are mighty kind.' So Penloe helped him to roll the blankets round him, and then he went and lay down on the hay himself without any covering. The boys did a heap of thinking that night, but said nothing. The next morning Penloe asked the tramp how he was, and he said he slept pretty well, but he looked real miserable, as though he had not had a good square meal for a month and was weak from chills. Penloe said to the tramp: 'You stay here till I come back,' and he went to see the boss and told him there was a sick tramp in the barn, and would he let him stay there and eat at the same table with us till he got well and strong, and that the boss should take the tramp's board out of his wages. The boss asked a few questions, studied awhile, then said, all right, he didn't care. Penloe went back to the tramp and told him he had seen the boss and he could stay there till he got well and strong, and to eat his meals with them and it would not cost him a cent.Tears came in the tramp's eyes, and he tried to say, 'Thank you, stranger.'
"During the day one of the men told the boss what Penloe had done last night; about giving his blankets up to a tramp and laying all night himself without any covering. After supper the boss called Penloe and told him there was a bed for him in the house, and he wanted him to sleep in it as long as the tramp was here, and as for the tramp, he would let the fellow stay here and board till he got a job in the neighborhood. He would not charge a cent for his board to Penloe. He himself had no work for the tramp.
"When the boys heard what Simmons said and did in regard to the tramp and Penloe, one of them said he was more taken back than if he had seen the devil come out of hell.
"'For you know, Dan,' the man said, 'Old Simmons is a hard nut and as close-fisted as he can be. Some of the boys think now he has got the Penloe fever. I think he got a straight look into Penloe's eyes and saw and felt something he never had seen and felt before. Penloe is a power when you know him.
"The tramp stayed three days and got well. We thought it would be a month before he would be well enough to go to work, but it is that Penloe's doings, I know. He must have some power for healing like they say Christ had. Penloe is never sick. Heat or cold, dry or wet, seem just the same to him.
"'The boss got the tramp a job at Kent's ranch. When he left he gave Penloe his hand, seemed to tremble a moment, tried to speak, but walked away without uttering a word. Penloe told the boss that the way the tramp bid him good-bye and thanked him was eloquently touching and powerful. The boss is very much changed; he is not so close and hard, and you now see a few smiles on his wife's face, where before you only saw lines of sadness; and the children, instead of being scared, as they used to be when they heard his footsteps coming, now run to meet him and hang around him.
"'Simmons says Penloe was the making of him and family. Simmons has a high-priced fancy mare that the boys always have said he thought more of than he did of his family, and no one ever drove her but himself. He would not loan her out to any one for a day for fifty dollars, yet now the boys say 'he would let Penloe have the mare to go to hell and back.'
"'Some of the boys also seem to have caught the fever, and it has made a great change in their lives. Penloe will leave the Simmons ranch soon, but his influence is there to stay. The man said, 'If you have any more men like Penloe in Orangeville, send them down this way, for these God forsaken ranches need men like him!'
"Dan says Penloe is like his mother in regard to tramps. Why, that woman was all alone, and a tramp called at her house to get a job of work. He said work was scarce and he had no money and needed some food; that he was hungry. He told Dan some time afterwards that before she replied she gave him a close look all over. He said her eye seemed to penetrate him, and after scrutinizing him very closely, she said: 'Come in, friend, you can stay here till you can find work.' She set before him plenty of good, hearty food, put a napkin to his plate, and talked to him interestingly about matters which seemed to make him feel that he was a better man. What do you think Mrs. Lenair had him do, Mrs. Herne? Why, he was shown into the bathroom, and given one of Penloe's night-gowns, and after he had taken his bath she had him sleep in her spare bedroom. 'Why,' I said to Mrs. Lenair, 'how could you do such a thing? I would no more have done it than I would have slept in a room with a rattlesnake.'
"She said, 'Mrs. Cullom, that man is my brother, and I treated him as such, and that thought was so impressed on his mind that it touched his better nature, and he could only think of me with the best and purest of feelings. I know that it was impossible for that man to hurt me. I fear no human being in this world.' The tramp stayed at her house for five days, and at the end ofthat time he got a chance at harvesting on the Thornton ranch. When he came to take leave of Mrs. Lenair, she said to him: 'You have put in five good full days' work, and here is five dollars for you'—handing him a five-dollar gold piece. He said: 'You did not hire me to work, and for what little I have done you have paid me a thousand times more than it is worth, in your conduct towards me. You took me, a poor, miserable, worthless, homeless tramp into your home, as if I had been your own brother, and you acted the true sister towards me. Now I wish to play the brother's part by giving you my work. It is the only thing I can do to show you how I appreciate your sisterly kindness toward me. I can earn all the money I need now at the Thornton ranch. I shall never forget you, because you are the only woman I ever met that received me and treated me as a sister would her brother; and if you ever need any work done on your place, and you have not the money to pay for its being done, remember I am your brother, and will do it gladly; more so than if you paid me two dollars a day.' She thanked him and said he had better take the five dollars, and laid it down on the table for him to take. He said he never would take it, and left it there. His last words to her were, 'I am going to be a new man.'
"Dan was on an errand to her place while the tramp was there. He saw him working in the orchard as if he was trying to do two days' work in one. Dan said he couldn't hire a man to work as he was working.
"I was rather amused at Dan," continued Mrs. Cullom. "When I returned from having taken Mrs. Lenair home in the evening (on the day that I told you that Dan went and brought her in the morning to spend the day), Dan came and took the team. 'Caroline,' he said, 'if you send me after Mrs. Lenair many times more I shall be falling in love with her, for I think she is real good, as well as being smart and bright.' 'What! Dan Cullom,' I said. 'She wouldn't have an awful talking man like you, even if you had a diamond on the end of every hair on your head.'"
When Mrs. Cullom was about to leave, Mrs. Herne said: "I have enjoyed your visit so much, Mrs. Cullom. You have got me interested in Penloe and his mother. I do so want to see them."
That evening Mrs. Herne related part of Mrs. Cullom's conversation to her husband and asked him if he knew Penloe or his mother.
"Penloe I have seen a few times, but his mother I have never seen," replied he.
"What kind of a man is he?" asked his wife.
"Well," said Charles, "I hardly know him. He is certainly a remarkable appearing young man. He is so different in his looks and expression from any man I have ever met or seen; so different from the kind that I have always associated with, that I could be no judge of such a man any more than I could be a judge of millinery or silks and satins, for I have had just about as much to do with one as I have with the other."
"Well," said his wife, "I want you to arrange in some way so we can meet them, for I am all worked up over them after what Mrs. Cullom has told me, and am very curious to see them."
"Something will happen in some way, so that we will meet them," he replied.
At the time Ben West went to the Klondike, a long tedious journey on a trail had to be made. He realized that whatever ability he possessed for making his way in that country, he lacked experience as a miner. So he was on the lookout to see if he could find one or two men of experience. He met many men on his journey, some of them having had most remarkable experience in mining and everything else. He met a man by the name of Adams that he thought would fill the bill; for he said he had mined in Colorado, Idaho, Arizona, and Nevada. From the talk Ben West had with different men, he knew now that he was in a country where men had no known reputations to back them; where every man was looked upon by every other man as being "on the make," without any scruples of conscience; where you would be laughed at if you took in all men said about themselves; where a man's word was worth very little and the only thing that counted was "something was in sight."
Adams told Ben West if he wished to secure his services, he would have to pay his expenses to Dawson City and give him five hundred dollars in cash before leaving Dawson City to go prospecting, and furnish him all supplies, and he, in return, would give Ben West half of whatever he found. Ben West, having several thousand dollars with him, was willing to take chances, and hired Adams. He also met another man in his travels who had had some experience, but was "dead broke." His name was Dickey, and he told Ben West if he would grub and stake him and give him one hundred dollars in cash when in Dawson City, he would give him half of what he found. Ben West agreed toDickey's proposition, and the three men traveled together to Dawson City.
Their journey was of a most tedious, trying character, the weather being disagreeable in the extreme. It rained more or less every day, making the travel exceedingly slow and difficult; it being so muddy and slippery, you seemed as if you went two steps backward to every one you went forward. The trail in many places was washed out and had to be repaired before they could proceed. In some places land-slides had blocked the trail, and it involved a great amount of labor to clear them off. Everything around Ben West was of a most discouraging nature. What with being cold and wet all day; leg weary in the extreme when night came; bill of fare very meagre, consisting of bread, beans, bacon, and coffee, the men he hired sometimes felt like throwing up the sponge. For they met many returning who said the country was hell and no good; many were sick lying along the side of the trail; some were dying, and they saw some dead; also a good many dead pack animals were seen. His surroundings were certainly blue.
One morning he awoke very early, long before it was time to rise. It was raining hard, and the thought came to him, another long tedious wet day's journey; how much longer would this fearful traveling last? Would they ever reach Dawson City, or would they, like many others, die on the road? Then he thought, why was he here? He could not help contrasting the difference between his environments here and those in Orangeville. Here all around him was black, barren, cold, wet, and dismal; with nearly every one cursing the country and calling it hell; and some felt like calling for some small boy to kick them because they were fools enough to come here.
Then he thought of his parents in Orangeville with every comfort inside, and a perfect paradise of fruits and flowers outside. He thought of California's lovely skies, its balmy, invigorating breezes, and its many, many sunny days. He said, what wouldthe people who are journeying along here think if they had a climate like that in Orangeville, which is matchless this side of heaven? He continued interrogating himself. Why did I come here? Did I not always have more of the very best and greatest variety of food than I could eat? Yes. Did I not always have more fine clothes than I could wear? Yes. Did I not always have more money than I needed to spend? Yes. Could a man be more popular than I was in Orangeville? No. In short, could a man have a much better all round time anywhere than I had in Orangeville? No. Then why am I here in this strange country, away from friends and loved ones? A small voice whispered to Ben West, and said: "It is because of your love for popularity, your greed, and because you are a slave to Julia Hammond." It was the name of Julia Hammond that roused Ben West from his reverie, that caused him to be restless, to rise, to proceed on his journey, and bring his iron will to bear, to overcome all obstacles.
After enduring over thirty days of disagreeable, rainy, muddy weather, it changed to cold, freezing weather, with snow falling. Many more hardships the party endured before reaching Dawson City.
When they arrived at Dawson City they felt very rocky and completely played out. The first week they were in Dawson City, they just rested and took care of themselves and got well and recuperated. Then Adams said to Ben West he wanted his money. So Ben gave him his five hundred dollars, and he also paid Dickey one hundred.
So, after Adams got his money, he said: "Come West, let's see the sights."
Ben said: "I am here to make money, not to fool it away."
Adams said: "Why, West, we have had hell enough in getting here; let's have some fun to-night. Come, West, and see the show and take in the elephant."
Ben West said: "Adams, I know now where most of yourmoney goes that you have made mining; but women and whiskey will not get mine."
"Go slow, West, these girls are not respectable according to rules and regulations of society, and I don't say they are, but look out and seethat some one womandoes not get away with your money. She may be considered respectable as the world goes, but there may not be a great difference between the one woman and these girls. I have seen the world, West, and men like you before."
Adams' remark had the effect of taking the sails out of Ben West's self-righteous spirit, and he said nothing more.
It was agreed among the three that they would remain in Dawson City another week and then they would go prospecting.
The day before starting to go, Ben West thought he had better get his men, so he went round to the saloons, dives and dance-houses. After searching about all such places, he found Adams in a dance-house, and Dickey in the corner of a saloon. Both men were busted and seemed glad to have Ben come and take care of them. By the next day he got both men straightened out, and they proceeded on their prospecting tour. Ben West was determined to learn from Adams all he could in the way of mining. After they had been out about a week, Ben sent Dickey in one direction while he and Adams went in another. He watched Adams very closely and learned lots from him. When they had been together about a month, Ben West was getting tired of Adams for several reasons. One day he was prospecting about a quarter of a mile from Adams, when he found something rich. He brought a few samples to camp at night and showed them to Adams. When Adams looked at the samples, he said: "West, you have struck it." So the next day Adams went with Ben to see the mine, and by doing more work it proved to be all that Ben West had expected. Now that a mine had been found, Adams wanted to get a settlement with Ben West, as he had been away some time and wanted to get back to Dawson City. BenWest did not think he owed Adams anything, as Adams had not found the mine, but for some reason Adams thought he ought to have an interest in what West found; so they had some wordy trouble. After many hot words, Ben West agreed to give Adams two thousand dollars, which offer Adams accepted and then returned to Dawson City to see and enjoy more fun as he called it. Two weeks later an agent representing the North American Mining Syndicate bought Ben West's claim for fifty thousand dollars, giving him a draft for forty thousand and ten thousand in gold coin.
For a few weeks afterwards Ben West felt rich, then, strange to relate, a feeling came over him that he was poor, and must make at least half a million. About a month after he had sold his claim, he met three men from his native State, California. He was glad to see men from his State, and they were glad to see him, when they heard him say that he had sold a claim, as they had very little money and might need some financial help. Ben West found their company very entertaining and liked to be with them. After awhile it was decided that all of them should go in as partners. When they had been out prospecting a few weeks as partners, it is singular to have to state that there was trouble over every little show of a claim, and many other matters caused unpleasantness, though before they became partners they were all great friends. But the partnership business seemed to make them all at outs with each other. After they had been out awhile prospecting, Ben West found out that two of his partners were tender-footed men, never having had any experience as miners, though they at first tried to make Ben think they had.
"I have got through with partners," said Ben West, "and from this time on I will prospect alone; then what I find will belong to me, and no second party can claim a share and growl because he can't have it all. Besides, this partnership is a failure after all. There is more or less trouble all the time about cooking, packing, getting the fuel for fire, cleaning up, and putting the thingsaway afterwards. Then how will it be if a good prospect is found? I shall have all the work to do and only get half." This resolve was made after a long hard journey of several days, over a rough slippery trail with now and then deep snow to wade through, and also over rocky points that one is almost sure to find in the mountains.
The two tender-footed men were good fellows, but, like too many others, when the novelty of the enterprise began to develop into a stern reality, and there was manual labor to be performed, and hardships to be endured, and some personal sacrifices to be made, they began to lose heart, get homesick and weary, and to shirk their part; also to be surly and disagreeable. "We won't quarrel," said Ben West, "but when we get to Antelope Springs we will divide our stores and then each one will 'shift for himself,' as the saying is."
In a few days they arrived at the Springs and at once divided the supplies. After a couple of days' stay, Ben West started out again prospecting, and slow tedious work he found it. He toiled day after day, tired and weary at night, but blessed with a night of sweet sound sleep so that in the morning he was fresh and ready for another day's work. Things went on in this way for awhile, then he came to a place that had been tried but abandoned. Here he worked for about two days and found what he was looking for. But it was not rich, though his hopes seemed to revive once more. Here he brought his camping outfit and went to work in good earnest for about ten days. He took out from fifteen to thirty dollars per day, and the prospect looked favorable. A party offered him twenty thousand dollars for his claim, but he refused it, and after some bargaining he sold it for thirty thousand dollars.
He decided now to not only prospect himself but to stake others for a half interest in what they found. Amongst them was a young fellow by the name of Lane, of doubtful reputation, and his partner Bruce. Ben West gave them a six weeks' outfit to goto a part of the country that had not been looked over at all. After they had been gone about four weeks Bruce, Lane's partner, came into camp and wanted Ben West. He was out in the hills looking for another claim, but Bruce went after him to get him to go with him to where Lane was, for they had found a good prospect that was very rich. After getting together the few necessary things that they needed, off the two men went, and sure enough it was a rich mine, one that was paying three to six hundred dollars per day. "Now," said Ben West, "I am opposed to any partnership business, and will sell or buy. Just one half of this claim is mine. I will take twenty-five thousand dollars or agree to give you the same amount for your half; and would like an answer at once or as soon as you can decide."
Lane and Bruce talked the matter over and finally concluded to sell. "It is a bargain," said Ben West, "and we will now go back to town and I will give you your money."
It looked stormy before bedtime and next morning the snow was quite deep. Though the snow was still falling, they were anxious to get to town; so they started on the tedious journey of sixty miles through the snow, then over a foot deep. Their progress was slow and they did not make half the distance; being exhausted, they stopped for food and rest. After eating a cold lunch, they fixed a place and spread their slender allowance of bedding and turned in for the night. It was bitter cold, but they were tired; so it was not long before they were all soundly sleeping. When they awoke in the morning they realized that a very hard day's travel was before them, having about forty miles to make before supper.
When Ben West got up he did not feel quite right, for one of his feet felt kind of odd. It did not take Lane long to find out the foot had been slightly frozen. So to work they went and thawed it out, wrapped it up well and started. It did not snow now, but it was cold. Their progress was slow. When they had traveled about ten miles, Bruce said: "I will push ahead andget a sled and some of the boys to come and meet you, so make all the distance you can."
"All right," said West, "send four men with a sled and something to eat. I will pay the bill and the men for coming."
Bruce arrived in town some time after dark, but though very tired and hungry he did not eat until he had started four good stout men after his comrades, whom they met some nine or ten miles out. Poor Ben West could go no further, for his foot was quite painful, and he and Lane both waited and watched for relief, which came at last. It was almost midnight when the relief party arrived. They brought a fine lunch and a bottle of wine, which both enjoyed very much. After the lunch was eaten all hands started for the town, where they arrived just as the day was breaking. The frozen foot proved to be worse than at first supposed to be. It would keep the owner an invalid for at least two weeks. Ben West said: "Here is a pretty mess. My fortune just at my fingers' end and a frozen foot tied up for half a month, when I have so much to do. Why did I not take better care of myself?"
At this time Bruce came to see how Ben West was getting along. He found him nervous and a little feverish. "Just be quiet," said Bruce, "it is the best medicine you can have." After Ben West had paid Lane and Bruce for their claim, Bruce said to West: "If you like I will go with another man, that you may name, and work in your mine until you come to us. For my pay I want fourteen dollars per day and I'll furnish my own grub." The bargain was made. Bruce and the man started the next day, and just sixteen days after Ben West was at his mine.
They had a large pile of pay dirt ready for a clean-up; it was exceedingly rich and several claim buyers had heard about the rich mine and were on the ground to buy it from West. After a great deal of talk West said: "The mine is worth a million, but I want to get out of this country, and the man that pays me five hundred and fifty thousand dollars gets the mine."
An hour afterwards the agent for an English syndicate purchased the mine. Ben West having now made his pile determined to lose no time in getting back to Orangeville, but he intended to stay in San Francisco till he was thoroughly recuperated before going home.
George Combe has said, "Mankind love their young and take charge of them with common accord, yet the love of offspring is much more intense in the female than in the male, and this difference is manifested from earliest infancy. The boy wants his whip, horse, drum, top or sword, but observe the little girl occupied with her doll. She decks it in fine clothes, prepares for it night linen, puts it into the cradle, rocks it, takes it up, feeds it, scolds it, and tells it stories. When she grows older she takes charge of her younger brothers and sisters. Nothing possesses, in her estimation, greater charms than babies. When she has grown to maturity and become herself a mother, with what sweet emotion and gushing tenderness does she caress her little ones."
While the love of offspring is more or less strong in all, yet it does not manifest itself if there are other tendencies predominant in the character. Take a woman in whom the love of dress and society is most active; she will not care for offspring, if her circumstances are such that it would debar her from enjoying style or society; or if the artistic inclination is the strongest in her character she would not want offspring; or if great intellectual tastes are very strong and love of children only moderate, she would not want offspring; or where persons have consecrated themselves fully and unreservedly to a spiritual life in order to become spiritual parents to many, to them offspring would be a hindrance in their work. But where the domestic faculties arethe strongest, the home is lonesome without children. In some the maternal instinct is exceedingly strong, for it manifests itself to such an extent as to become the ruling passion; nothing else but offspring can satisfy them. And this maternal passion is expressed in matchless language by Mr. Stephen Phillips:[1]"Lucrezia's sudden outburst of grief and rage against her lonely fate is, poetically speaking, one of the finest passages in the play:"