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About Oregon City courier. (Oregon City, Or.) 1902-1919 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 15, 1907)
,II i i H..H-i..i..1..l,.1.,M..H..I,.1iH,.I..H,.H..1.,H1 i i-v-iw. 1 1 1 j.H..1.-H t f-M M-f lllll "M"H "H I llll H f !. l 1 H't 1 1 1 1 HI J II 1 H HI 1 Mt ' 1 il H-I't-M-M-H -H' H I MltWM'tW-Wl-H") 1 !!! 1'IIIIIIIIIH W 4 4 4 4 4 4 THE E ND F THE TASKBy Bruno Lessing -r.i.HU M. I t I 1 1"M"1"M"H-H" THE sewing-machines whirred like a thousand devils. You have no Idea what a noise thirty sewing-machines will make when they are running at full speed. Each machine Is made up of dozens of little wheels and cogs and levers and ratchets, and each part tries to pound, scrape, squeak and bang and roar louder than all the others. The old man who went crazy last year In this very same shop used to sit In the cell where they chained him, with his fingers In his ears, to keep out the noise of the sewing-machines. He said the Inces sant din was eating Into his brains, and, time and again, he tried to dash ouf those poor brains against the pad ded wall. The sewing-machines whirred and rnnred and clicked, and the noise drowned every other sound. Braun finished garment after garment and arranged them In a pile beside nl machine. When there were twenty in the pile he paused In his work If your eyes were shut you would never have known that one machine had stoppea, and he carried the garments to the counter, where the marker gave him a ticket for them. Then he returned to his machine. This was the routine of his daily labor from seven o'clock in the morning until seven o'clock at night. The only deviation from this routine occurred when Llzschen laid the twentieth garment that Bhe had fin lshed upon her pile and Draun saw her fragile figure stoop to raise the pile. Then his machine would stop, In two strides he would carry the garments to the counter for her and bring her the ticket for them. Llzschen would cease working to watch him, and, when he handed her the ticket she 'would smile at him, and sometimes, when no one was looking, she would seize his hand and press It tightly against her cheek oh I so tightly, as if she were drowning and that hand were a rock of safety. And, when she resumed her work, a tear would roll slowly over the very spot where his hand had rested, tremble for an Instant upon her pale cheek, and then fall upon the gar ment where the needle would sew It firmly Into the seam. But you never would have known that two machines had stopped for a moment; there were twenty-eight others to keep up the roaring and the rattling and, the hum. On and on they roared. There was no other sound to conflict with or to vary the monotony. At each machine sat a human being working with hand, foot, and eye, watching the flashing needle, guarding the margin of the earns, jerking the cloth hither and thither quickly, accurately, watching the spool to see that the thread ran freely, oiling the gear with one hand while the other continued to push the garment rapidly under the needle, the .. hol body swaying, bending, twist ing this way and that to keep time and pace with the work. Every muscle of the body tolled, but the mind was free free as a bird to fly from that suffo cating room out to green fields and woods and flowers. And Braun was thinking. Under hnd told him of a wonderful place whore beautiful pictures could be looked at for nothing. It wna prob ably untrue. Llnder was not above lying. Braun had been In this coun try six long years and In all that time he had never found anything that could be had for nothing. Yet Llnder said he had seen them. Paintings In massive gold frames, real, solid gold, and such paintings! Woodland scenes and oceans and ships and cattle and mountains, and beautiful ladles such pictures as the theatrical posters and the lithograph advertisements on the streets displayed, only these were real And It cost nothing to look at them I Nineteen twenty! That completed the pl'o- It had taken about an hour, and he had earned seven cents. He carried the pile to the counter, re ceived his ticket and returned to his machine, stopping only to smile at Llzsohen, who had finished hut half a pile In that time and who looked so white and tired, yet smiled so sweetly at him then on with his work and thoughts. He would take Llzschen to see them It was probably all a lie, hut the pluce was far, far up-town, near Madison Square Braun had never been north of Houston 8treet and the walk might do Llzschen good. Ho would say nothing to her about the pictures until ho came to the plnco and found out for himself If Llnder had told the truth. Otherwise the disappointment might V her harm. Poor Llzschen! A feeling of wild, blind rage overwhelmed Braun for an Instant, then passed away, leaving his frame rigid and his teeth tightly clenched. While It lasted lie worked like an automaton,, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, feeling nothing save a chaotic tumult in his heart iind brain that could find no vent In words, no audible expression save In a fierce outcry against fate resistless, re morseless fate. A few months ngo these attacks had come upon him more frequently and had lasted for hours, leaving him exhausted and 111. Hut they had become rnrer and less violent; there Is no misfortune to which the human mind cannot ultimately become reconciled. Llzschen was soon to die. Braun had rehelled; his heart and soul, racked almost beyond endurance, had cried out against the horror, the In justice, the wanton cruelty, of his brown-eyed, pale-cheeked Llzschen wasting away to death before his eyes. Hut there was no hope, and he had gradually become reconciled. The phy sician at the puhllo dispensary had told him she might live a month or she might live a year longer, he could not foretell more accurately, but of ulti mate recovery there was no hope on earth. And Braun's rebellious out bursts against cruel fate hnd become rnrer and rarer. Do not Imagine that these emotions had ever shaped them elves In so many words, or that he had attempted by any process of, rea soning to argue the matter with hlm elf or to see vividly what It all meant, what horrible onloal he was passing through, or what the future held In store lor him. From his tenth H"I"M"I"t"H-H i , , , t rr'i i i i . ,h..i H-1-M-I--H-1-M--M-4 ... j........i,.l..H-l.M l'1-H-I'M I I I I !! I I M l-M "M"M"M-M"I 11 I H 1 I 'H 1 HM-H llfHfrWW year until his twentieth Braun had worked In factories in Russia, ofte under the lash. He was twenty-six and his six years In this country had been spent in sweat-shops. Such me do not formulate thoughts In words they feel dumbly, like dogs and horses, II. The day's work was done. Braun and Llzschen were walking slowly up town, hand-in-hand, attracting man an Inquiring, half-pltylng glance. 8h was so white, he so haggard and wild eyed. It was a delightful spring night, the air was balmy and soothing, an Llzjschen coughed less than she had for several days. Braun had spoken o a picture he had once seen In a shop window In Russia. Llzschen's eyes had become animated. "They are so wonderful, those paint ere," she said. "With nothing but brushes they put colors together until you can see the trees moving In the breeze, and almost Imagine you hear the birds in them." "I don't care much for trees," said Braun, "or birds either. I like ships and battle pictures where people are doing something great." "Maybe that is because you have al ways lived In cities," said Llzschen, "When I was a girl I lived in the country, near Odessa, and oh, how beautiful the trees were and how sweet the flowers! And I used to sit under a tree and look at the woods across the valley all day long. Ah, If I could only 1" She checked herself and hoped that Braun had not heard. But he had heard and his face had clouded. He, too, had wished and wished and wish ed through many a sleepless night, and now he could easily frame the unfin ished thought in Llzschen's mind. If he could send her to the country, to some place where the air was warm and dry, perhaps her days might be prolonged. But he could not. He had to work and she had to work, and he had to look on and watch her tolling, tolling, day after day, without end, without hope. The alternative was to starve. They came to the place that Llnder had described, and, surely enough, be fore them rose a huge placard an nouncing that admission to the exhi bition of paintings was free. The pic tures were to be sold at public auction at the end of the week, and for several nights they were on Inspection. The young couple stood outside the door a whllo, watching the people who were going In and coming out; then Braun said: "Come, Llzschen, let us go In. It Is free." Llzschen drew back timidly. "They will not let people like us go in. It is for nobility." But Braun drew her for ward. "They cam do no more than ask us to go out," he said. "Besides I would like to have a glimpse of the paint Ings." With many misgivings Llzschen fol lowed him Into the building, and found herself In a large hall, brilliantly 11 lumlnsted, walled In with paintings whoso gilt frames shone like fiery gold In the bright light of numerous elec trie lamps. For a moment the sight dazzled her, and she gasped for breath. The large room with Its soft carpet, the glittering lights and re flections, the confused mass of colors that the paintings presented to her eyes, and the air of charm that per meates all art galleries, be they ever so poor, were all things so far opart from her life, so foreign not only to her experience, but even o her Im agination, that the scene seemed un real at first, as if It had been taken from a fnlry tale. Brnun was of more phlegmatic temperament and not easily moved. The lights merely made his eyes blink a few times, and after that he saw only Llzschen's face. He saw the blood leave It and a bright pniior overspread her cheeks, saw the frail hand move convulsively to her breast, a gesture that ho knew so well, nnd fenrod that sho was about to have a coughing spell. Then, suddenly, he saw the color come flooding back to her face nnd he saw her eyes spark ling, dancing with a Joy that he had never seen In tliem before. Her whole frame seemed suddenly to become an imated with a new life and vigor. Somewhat startled hy this transforma tion he followed her gose. Llzschen was looking at a painting. "What is It, dear?" he asked. "The picture," she said In a whisper. The green fields and that tree! And the road! It stretches over the hill! The sun will set, too, very soon. Then the sheep will come over the too of tne inn. oh, 1 can almost hear the leader's belli And there Is a light breeze. Bee the leaves of the tree they ere moving! Can't you feel the breeze? Oh, darling, isn't It wonder. fulT I never saw anything like that before. Braun looked curiously at the can vas. To his eyes it presented a wood land scene, very natural, to lie sure but not more natural than nature, and equally uninteresting to him. Ho look- ea around him to select a painting upon wnion ne could expend more en thuslnsm. "Now there's the kind I like. Liz. schon," lie said. "That storm on the ocean with the big ship going to Pieces. And that big picture over there with all the soldiers rushing to bot tle." He found several other and was pointing out what he found to admire in them, when, happening to look at his companion's face, he saw that her eyes were still fastened ttpon the woodland picture, and he realized thst she had not heard a word of what lie bad said. He smiled at her tenderly. Ah, Llzschen," he snld, "If I were rich I would toke thnt picture right off the wall and give them ft hundred dollars for It, and Llzschen could look at It all day long." Hut still Llzschen did not hear. All that hlg room with Its lights and its brilliant colorings, and all those peo pie who had come In, and even her lover at her, side had faded from Llz schen's consciousness. The picture that absorbed all her being had ceased to be a mere beautiful painting. Lis- THE SHEEP ire Coming! watch u&BChen; watch, precious schon was walking down that road herself; the soft breeze was fanning her fevered cheeks, the rustling of the leaves had become a reality; she was walking over the hill to meet the flock of sheep, for she could hear the shep herd's dog barking and the melodious tinkling of the leader's bell, From the moment of their entrance many curious glances had been di rected at them. People wondered who this odd-looking, Ill-clad couple could be. When Llzschen became absorbed in the woodland scene and stood star ing at It as If It were the most won derful thing on earth, those who ob served her exchanged glances, and sev eral onlookers smiled. Their entrance, Llzschen's bewilderment, nnd then her ecstasy over the painting had all hap pened In the duration of three or four minutes. The liveried attendants had noticed them and had looked at one another with glances that expressed doubt as to what their duty was under the circumstances. Clearly these were not the kind of people for whom this exhibition had been arranged. They were neither lovers of art nor pros pective purchasers. And they looked so shabby and so distressingly poor and ill-nourished. Finally one attendant, bolder than the rest, approached them, and tapping Braun lightly upon the sleeve, said, quite good-naturedly: "I think you've made a mistake." Brnun looked at him and shook his head and turned to Llzschen to see If she understood. But Llzschen neither saw nor hoard. Then the man, seeing that he was dealing with foreigners, became more abrupt In his demeanor, and, with a grunt, pointed to the door. Braun understood. To be summarily ordered from the place seemed more natural to him than to be permitted to remain unmolested amid all that splendor. It was more in keeping with the experiences of his life. "Come, Llzschen," he said, "let us go." Llz schen turned to him with a smiling face, but the smile died quickly when she beheld the attendant, and she clutched Braun's arm. "Yes, let us go," she whispered to him, and they went out m. On the homeward Journey not a word was spoken. Braun's thoughts were bitter, rebellious; the Injustice ot life's arrangements rankled deeply at that moment, hla whole eoul felt outraged, fate was cruel, life was wrong, all wrong. Llzschen, on the other hand, walked lightly, in a state of mild ex citement, all her spirit elated over the picture she had seen. It had been but a brief communion with nature, but It had thrilled the hidden chords of her nature, chords of whose existence she had never dreamed before. Alas! the laws of this same beautiful nature are Inexorable. For that brief moment of hnpplness Llzschen wos to submit to swift, terrible punishment. Within a few steps of the dark tenement which Llzschen called home, a sudden weak ness came upon her, then a violent fit of coughing, which racked her frail body as though It would rend It as under. When she took her hands from her mouth Braun saw that they were red. A falntness seized him, but he must not yield to It: Without a word he gathered Llzschen In his arms and carried her through the hallway Into th rear building and then up four flights of stairs to the apartment where she lived. Then the doctor came he was a young man with his own struggles for existence weighing upon him and yet ever ready for such cases as this where the only reward lay In the approbation of his own conscience, and Braun hung his face for tbe verdict. 'It is Just another attack like the Inst." he was saying to himself. "She will have to lie In bed for a day, and then she will he Just as well as before. Perhaps It may even help her! But It Is nothing more serious. She has had many of them. I saw them myself. It Is not so terribly serious. Not yet. Oh, It cannot be yet! Maybe, after a long a time but not yet It Is too soon." Over and over again he argued thus and In his heart did not believe It. Then the doctor shook his head and said; "It's near the end, my friend. A few days perhaps a week. But she cannot leave her bed again." , Braun stood alone In the room, up right, motionless, with his flstB clenched until the nails dug deep Into the skin, seeing nothing, hearing noth ing, feeling nothing. His eyes were dry, his lips parched. The old woman with whom Llzschen lived came out and motioned to him to enter the bed room. Llzschen was whiter than the sheets, but her eye were bright, and she was smiling and holding out her arms to him. "You must go now, lleb chen,", she Snld faintly. "I will be all right to-morrow. Kiss me good-night, and I will dream about the beautiful picture." He kissed her and went out without a word. All that night he walked the streets. When the day dawned he went to her again. She was, awake and happy. "I dreamt about It all night llebchen,' she said Joyfully. "Do you think they would let me see it again?" He went to his work, and all that day the roar Of the machines set his brain a-whlrrlng and a-roaring as If it, too, had become a machine. He worked with feverish activity, and when the machines stopped he found that he had earned a dollar and five cents. Then he went to Llzschen and gave her fifty cents, which he told her hehad found In the street. Llzschen was much weaker, and could only speak In a whisper. She beckoned to him to hold his ear to her lips, and she whispered: Llebchen, If I could only see the picture once more." I will go and ask them, darling," he said. "Perhaps they will let me bring It to you." Braun went to his room and took from his trunk a dagger that he had brought with him from Russia. It was rusty, old-fashioned affair which 44 THE WOMAN ADMIRED BY MEN 44 THE CHEERFUL WOMAN V HAT constitutes a large rart of her charm In his eyes Is her cheerfulness, for the woman whom men admire la never melancholy or self-conscious, snd she tisually has the mother wit and discretion to be lieve that henrts are pretty much alike, whether they beat under nankeen waistcoats or chiffon blouses, and are to be conquered by very nearly the same means. Men as well as women she knows are more pleased anil flattered to be coaled Into talking than to be forced into Us toning, nnd, therefore, when such a woman Is introduced to Mr. Jones, or set down at dinner beslda Mr, Brown, she warms the genial currents of his soul by trying to talk to him about himself rather than about herself. This Is Indeed a point that so many ruly clever modern girls fall to make. You stand accused so often, my dear college graduate and literary maiden. of trying to take too lofty a tone In your conversations with young men. You are Just a bit proud of and arro gant with all your splendid knowledge, and when you meet Mr. Blank you want to talk about Browning and Parsifal, when poor Mr. Blank really has never read one line of that poet' work, and does not know one note of nrosla from another. Or If you do not make this mistake you fall Into the equally fatal siTor of allowing jronrself to t very easily bored and of looking superior and diffi cult to please. This is What tue wo man admired by man never does. Sue never allows the fact that she speaks four languages and plays Beethoven beautifully to Interfere with her popu larity; she has not a condescending manner, and she does not take Interest "nly In the man who can speak lan guages, too. and understand Wagner and Straus. Such a fine example of feminine tact nd sweetness I can recall even now In the person of a fragile, gentile, plainly gowned little lady, who could put the shyest of men at his ease In a moment by her own self-effacement. She was an extraordinary cultivated woman, but not only was she learned, she was sweet and generous as well, and these lovely qualities I saw her display as she listened with Interest to a long talk on ea dry a matter as real state, A nice young fellow had taken her Into dinner. He was desperately shy, but she found out, after a little, that he knew a great deal of the business rn which he was beginning, and could tell her much that was Interesting concerning It. so upon real estate h talked and she questioned, and when dinner was over he vowed that in all hla life he had never met a sweeter or a cleverer woman. even the pawnbrokers had repeatedly refused to accept Why he kept It or for what purpose he now concealed It in his coat he could not tell. His mind had ceased to work coherently; his brain was now a machine, whirring and roartng like a thousand devils. Thought? Thought had ceased. Braun was a machine and machines do not think. He walked to the picture gallery He had forgotten its exact location, but some mysterious Instinct guided him straight to' the spot. The doors were already opened, but the nightly throng of spectators had hardly begun to arrive. And now a strange thing happened. Braun entered and walked straight to the painting of the wood land scene that hung near the door, There was no attendant to bar hi progress. A small group of persons, gathered In front of a canvas that hung a few feet away, had their backs turned to him, and stood like a screen between him and the employees of the place. Without a moment's hesitation, without looking to right or to left, walking with a determined stride and making no effort to oonceal his pur pose, and, at the same time, obllvlou of the fact that he was unobserved, Braun approached the painting, raised it from, the hook, and, with the wire dangling loosely from It, took the painting under his arm and walked out of the place. If he had been ob served, would he have brought hi dagger Into use? It Is impossible to tell. He was a machine and his brain was roaring. Save for one picture that rose constantly before his vision, he was blind. All that he saw was Llz schen so white in her bed, waiting to see the woodland picture once more. He brought It straight to Her room, She was too weak to move, too worn out to express any emotion, but her eyes looked unutterable gratitude when she saw the painting. 'Did they let you have it?" sh whispered. "They were very kind," said Braun, "I told them you wanted to see It and they said I could have It as long as I liked. When you are better I will take it back." Llzschen looked at him wistfully., will never be better, llebchen," she whispered. Braun hung the picture at the foot of the bed where Llzschen could see It without raising her head, and then went to the window and sat there looking out Into the night Llzschen was happy beyond all bounds. Her eyes drank in every detail of the won. derful scene until her whole being be came filled with the delightful spirit that pervaded and animated the paint lng. A master's hand had Imbued that deepening blue sky with the sadness of twilight, the soft, sweet pathos of departing day, and Llzschen's heart beat responsive to every shade and shadow. In the Waning light every outline was softened; here tranquility reigned supreme, and Llzschen felt soothed. Yet In the dlstanoe, across the valley, the gloom of night had be gun to gather. Once or twice Llzschen tried to penetrate this gloom, but the effort to see what the darkness was hiding tired her eyes. IV. The newspapers the next day were full of the amazing story of the stolen painting. They told how the attend ants at the gallery had discovered the break In the line of paintings and had Immediately notified the manager of the place who at onoe asked the num ber of the picture. "It's number thirty-eight," they told him. He seized a catalogue, turned to No. 88, and turned pale. "It's Corot's Spring Twilight!'" he cried. "It cost the owner three thousand dollars, and we're responsible for It!" The newspapers went on to tell how the police had been notified and how the best detectives had been set to work to trace the stolen painting, how all the thieves' dens In New York had been ransacked and all the thieves questioned and cross-questioned, all the pawnshops searched and it all had resulted in nothing. But such excite ment rarely leaks into the Ghetto, and Braun, at his machine, heard nothing of it, knew nothing of it, knew nothing of anything in the world save that the machines were roaring away In his brain and that Llzschen was dying. As soon as his work was done he went to her. She smiled at him, but was too weak to speak. He seated himself be side the bed and took her hand In his. All day long she had been looking at the picture; all day long she had been wandering along the road that ran over the hill, and now nlrht had come and she was weary. But here eyes were glad, and when she turned them upon Braun he saw in them love unut terable and happiness beyond all de scription. His eyes were dry; he held her hand and stroked it mechanically; he knew not what to say. Then she fell asleep and he sat there hour after hour, heedless of the flight of time. Suddenly Llzschen sat upright, her eyes wide open and staring. "I hear them," she cried. "I hear them plainly. Don't you, llebchen? The sheep are oomlngl They're coming over the hllll Watch, lleb chen; watch, precious I" With all the force that remained In her she clutched his hand and pointed to the painting at the foot of the bed. Then shs swayed from side to side. and ha caught her in his arms. "Llzschen!" he cried. "Llzschen!" But her head fell upon his arm and lav motionless. The doctor came and saw at a glance that the patient was beyond his min istering. "It Is ever, toy friend," he said to Braun, At the sound of a voice Braun started, looked around him quite bewildered, and then drew a long breath which seemed to lift him out of the stupor Into which he had fallen. "Yes, it Is over," he said, and acoordlng to the custom of the ortho dox, he tore a rent In his coat at the neck to the extent of a hand's breadth. Then he took the painting under his arm and left the house. It was now nearly two o'clock In the morning and the streets were deserted. A light rain had begun to fall, and Braun took off his coat to wrap it around his burden. He walked like one In a dream, seeing nothing, hear ing nothing save a dull monotonous roar which seemed to come from all directions and to center in his brain. The doors of the gallery were closed and all was dark. Braun looked in vain for a bell, and after several Inef fectual taps on the door began to pound lustily with his fist and heel. Several night stragglers stopped in the rain, and presently a small group had gathered. Questions were rut to Braun, but he did not hear them. He kicked and pounded on the door, and the noise resounded through the streets as If it would rouse the dead. Presently the group heard the rattling of bolts and the creaking of a rusty key In a rusty lock, and all became quiet. The door swung open, and a frightened watchman appeared. "What's the matter? Is there a Are?" he asked. A policeman made his way through the group and looked Inquiringly from Braun to the watchman. Without ut tering a word Braun held out the painting, and at the sight of It the watchman uttered a cry of amazement and delight "It's the stolen Corot!" he exclaimed. Then turning to Braun, "Where did you get It? Who had it? Do you claim the reward?" Braun's lips moved, but no sound came from them, and he turned on his heel and began to walk off, when the policeman laid a hand on his shoulder. Not so fast, young man. You'll have to give some kind of an account of how you got this," he said. ' Braun looked at him stupidly, and the policeman became suspicious. "I guess you'd better come to the station- house," he said, and without more ado walked off with his prisoner. Braun made no resistance, felt no surprise, offered no explanation. At the station house they asked him many questions, but Braun only looked vacantly at the questioner and had nothing to say. They locked him In a cell over night, a gloomy cell that opened on a dimly, lighted corridor, and there Braun oat until the day dawned, never moving, never speaking. Once, during the night, the watchman on duty in this corridor thought he heard a voice whispering, "Llzschen I Llzschen!" but it must have been the rain that now was pouring in torrents. V. "There the wicked cease from troub lg; and there the weary be at rest. "There the Drlsonera rest tno-otho," they hear not the voice of the oppressor. The small and the arreat are them! and the servant is free from Its master." It Is written in Israel that the rabbi must give his services at the death bed of even the lowliest. The coffin rested on two stools in the same room In which she died; beside it stood the rabbi, clad in somber garments, read ing in a listless, mechanical fashion from the Hebrew text of the Book of Job, Interpolating here and there some time-worn, commonplace phraso of praise, of exhortation, of consolation. He had not known her; this was mere ly part of his dally work. The sweat-shop had been closed for an hour; for one hour the machines stood silent and deserted; the tollers were gathered around the coffin, listen- lng. to the rabbi. They were pale and gaunt, but not from grief. The ma chines had done that. They had rent their garments at the neck, to the ex tent of a hand's breadth, but not from grief. It was the law. A figure that they had becorfte accustomed to see bending over one of the machines had finished her last garment. Dry-eved. in a sort of mild wonder, they had come to the funeral services. And some were still breathing heavily from the morning's work. After all, It was pleasant to sit quiet for one hour. Some one whispered the name of Braun, and they looked around. Braun was not there. "He will not come." whlsnered one of the men. "It is in the newspaper. He was sent to prison for three years. He stole something. A nirtnra t think. I am not sure." Those who heard slowly shook their heads. There was no feelln nf .. prise, no shock. And what was there to say? He had been one of them. He had drunk out of the same cup with them. They knew the tnoto xvh.t mattered the one particular drer thnt he found? They had no curiosity. In the case of Nltza, It was her baby who was dying because she could not buy it the proper food. Nltza had told them And so when Nltza cut her thrn.t tv, all knew what she had found in the cup. uraun hadn't told but what mat tered It? Probably something more bitter than gall. And three veers in prison. Yes. To be sure.- He h. tolen something. ling "Wherefore Is nh x V?.ln mlsery,"droned the rabbh ",','i ' Ine outer in soul: Which Ions- for Hdoth k i, freaXV' " mr'6 tha" '' bld "Which rMnfn avAA,4i.,i.. m glad, when they can find the grave?" And the rabbi, faithful In fh r,. formance of his duty, went on to sr. pound and explain. But his hearers could not tarrv mnrh ir,r,o- IM.- hour was nearlng Its end and the ma chines would soon have to start as-air,. It is an old story in the f?hettn that lovers tell to their sweethearts who always cry when they hear it The machines still roar and whir as If a legion of wild spirits were shrieking within them, and many a tear Is stltohed Into the armn. .,. ever see them, madame nn r... -. Intently upon your Jacket as vot. win the tear has left no stain. There Is an old man at the corner machine, gray. ...u , out no works briskly. He Is the first to arrive each morning and the last to leave each nlirhf .i all his soul Is In his work. His ma chine Is an old one and roars loader than the rest, but he does not hear It Day and night sleeping and waking there are a hundred thousand machines roaring away In his brain. What cares he for one mors or ons less? (Copyright. & S. lUQure Oo
