Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 56, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 March 1916 — A Double Confession [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A Double Confession

By Frank E. Finch

(Copyright, 1916. by W. G. Chapman.) “I never imagined human nature could ever be like this,” said Rev. John Saunders to Miss Mary, the matron at the Shelter society’s headquarters. Miss Mary smiled upon him with the dignity of five and twenty years, four of which had been spent in the society’s service. “I guess it’s the same everywhere, Mr. Saunders,” she answered lightly, mentally registering her pity that a young man of her own age should know so little of life. In fact, Mr. Saunders, who had come straight to the chaplain’s post from the theological seminary, a month before, was, in comparison with herself, a child. Miss Mary had evinced a decided partiality for Rev. Mr. Saunders. He, himself, was not indifferent to her. In the secrecy of his heart he had even dared to dream things relating to a little home somewhere, when he got his coveted post in a small town, far from the noise of the lower East side. In this home, like a presiding genius, was enthroned Miss Mary Pagshaw, with a changed name. What Miss Mary thought must not be revealed. But she thought a good deal ■jot him. “If I could advise it, Mr. Saunders,” sail Miss Mary, “I wouldn’t be quite so eager to save these men’s souls. They're pretty hardened, some of them. They want example more than preaching. Now there’s 'Red’ Larrigan. Five years ago, when he began coming here, he was a hardened drunkard. Now he —he works sometimes. And he’s quit swearing. Well, Mr. Harrison never spoke one word to him about salvation. ‘Never mind his soul until its ready,’ he used to say. ‘We’ll feed his body and show him the dis-

ference in conditions by example. And any day he may come up to the mercy seat.’ Well, Mr. Saunders, ‘Red Larrigan is a far different man from what he was, and, mark you, the day will come when you’ll finish what Mr. Harrison began.” . "She spoke with great earnestness, but the young clergyman was not convinced. He, too, had noticed a difference in Larrigan, even during that month. His heart was burning to pull this piece of human wreckage out of the mire. Then there was “Blister” Mike. Mike was a regular hobo who put into the mission during the winter and found subsistence in return for some very meager work at the woodpile- *■ " • - ' : On the next evening both these characters being in attendance, Mr. Saunders took the opportunity for a little private talk with each. The results were disconcerting. “Red” relapsed. He uttered an oath. “Five years I’ve been coming here, Mr. Saunders, and nobody never said a word about religion to me,” he complained. greatly aggrieved. “I dunno what to make of it. Seems to me It njn’t fair, on. a. guy,”—And ha ended with a threat, which he had no intention of carrying out, of transferring his patronage elsewhere. “Blister” listened with the same sense of a grievance, but Mr. Saunders got only vague promises out of him.

He did not notice how the two down-and-outs put their heads together after the meeting, while they supped their coffee and munched the slabs of bread and butter with which the mission provided them. It was some days later that Mr. Saunders was amazed, after the service, to receive a voluntary visit from “Blister.” “Yes, my dear fellow, what can I do for you?” he Inquired, laying his hand upon the hobo’s shoulder. “I want to tell your mister, your words went straight to my heart,” yt<i i ‘RUster:’’- , ‘Andit made me feet what you said —we got to square ourselves. I’m wanted in Chicago.” "Wanted, Blister —I mean Mike?” “Bigamy,” said “Blister” laconically. “You have committed bigamy?” 'And arson. That’s what they ’ -r- : ' ~r-

called it I burned down our homo to ’get rid of my old woman. She beat it. Else It would have been murder as well.” “Dear me!” muttered the young, man, staring hopelessly at the tramp. “My dear fellow, you—of course you’re going to give yourself up to the police." “Police?” shouted "Blister.” “If I wanted to do that I could have done it any time the last three years. No, what I want is to get square, to be forgiven.” For half an hour Mr. Saunders pleaded with him in vain. Blister” apparently had no intention of paying the penalty of his crimes, and at last stalked off in a huff —to admit “Red.” “Mr. Saunders,” “Red” began, “I been thinking over your words about getting square, and I want to tell you something that’s been preying on my mind for years.” “Red” could talk quite well if he tried to. “Four years ago I killed a man!” “Killed a man!” echoed the young minister, staring at this new confidant in absolute horror. "Yep, in Chicago,” said “Red.” “It was while I was engaged in a little private affair—well, nir, a burglary. He was an old guy, too, turned eighty, I believe. I smashed his head in with my jimmy. He shouldn’t have interfered, at his age, unless he’d hada thicker head. But, Mister Saunders, his laßt look has haunted me to my dying day. I want to get square." John Saunders placed both his hands on “Red’s” shoulders and looked him earnestly in the eyes. “There is only one way in which you can square and make atonement for your past,” he *said. "I knew it!” shouted “Red’*exultantIy. “Name it. I’ll do it." “I will pay your fare back to Chicago,” answered the clergyman. “Red’s” • Jaw dropped. “What in blazes would I want to go back to Chicago for?” he asked. “I had trouble enough getting away.” • To give yourself up and satisfy the law,” said Mr. Saunders. “That is the only way in which you can square yourself.” "I won’t, I tell you," shouted “Red.” “And you won’t snitch on me, neither. I come to you and told you that in confidence. I come to you to get square and you want to kill me!” And he flung himself out of the clergyman’s—presence, leaving Mr. Saunders white and shaking.

All that night he thought over his predicament. Here were two of his flock, one a murderer, the other with two atrocious crimes unpunished. Both were repentant; neither was willing to pay the price of forgiveness. What should he do? Could he betray them?” He was too sick to get up that morning. In the afternoon he rose and dressed; just as he had completed his toilet there came a tap at the door and Miss Mary stood revealed, carrying a tray on which a hot lunch was smoking. “I was afraid you were ill, Mr. Saunders, when you didn’t come down to breakfast,” she explained. “I hope it is nothing much?” In spite of the weight upon the young map’s mind he could not help thinking that he would like to catch this vision and keep her to be his for ever.

Mias Mary set down the tray and came toward him, holding out her hands impulsively. “You are in trouble,” she said. “Tell me what It Is.” He told her, sick and trembling. When he had finished he asked for her advice. But to his amazement Miss Mary was actually smiling—-smiling, while the tears stood in her eyes. “Oh Mr. Saunders!” she exclaimed. “You didn’t believe a word those two dreadful liars said? Why, I saw them plotting together last night. They are both highly respectable men, of their kind, except for drink and shiftlessness. Mr. Saunders, they wanted to give you something to occupy your mind, that’s all. They tried that trick with Mr. Harrison once. You speak to them and you’ll find out.” The young man gasped. “Are you sure, Miss Mary?” he demanded, seizing her hands again. “Dead sure,” she answered. And suddenly a silence fell between them. “Miss Mary,” said John in an altered voice, “I am a fool. I need someone to look after me. Will yon—won’t you—will you try,, de&r?” And Miss Mary promised that she would.

Put Their Heads Together After the Meeting.