Rensselaer Journal, Volume 11, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 November 1901 — Two Worlds and Their Children. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Two Worlds and Their Children.

BY ETHEL M. COLSON.

(Copvright. 1901. by Dally Story Pub Co ) The trolley car which had been dasning along toward Chicago stopped suddenly, held upon a suburban street corner by the inevitable coal wagon with a tendency to break down. Franklin Atherton gazed idly at the earnest group of Salvation Army workers on the other side of the street. Suddenly In a momentary cessation of the ponderous drum-beats a clear, sweet, feminine voice faltered out softly: "Ah! I have sighed to rest me. Deep in the quiet grave.” The rest of the words were surprising Salvation Army adaptations of the most characteristic type. But Franklin Atherton never heard them. With a bound he had reached the side of the singer—the girl whom he would have asked to become his wife long ago but that he feared to face poverty with her. He had not seen her for nearly two years.

“Margaret! How came you with these people?” The girl looked at him gravely. “When your world —the world which ■was mine also until my father died and left me penniless—found no time or space or attention Tor me I turned to the world in which men and women work instead of play. Not knowing how to work I went hungry. When I was homeless and seeking death because no other course seemed open the Salvation Army workers found me. They saved my life—and soul. Now 1 am trying to save others.” The gong of the trolley clanged out at the moment. It seemed like a summons to another world. “Margaret!" The words seemed drawn from him. “Leave this life, for God’q sake! Come with me."

“How came you with' these people?" “As your wife, Franklin?” ThlAicker Of doubt and uncertainty In hts eyes was so short-lived that few ■■■HHHHjt. But the girl turned, awi*', as ||hough she had sufJ angered. "Not now. Yojl are not strong enough to ■ she called

after him as he sprang aboard the trolley, "we may meet again, some time. When we do, perhaps ” But he was gone. Three years later Franklin Atherton had also disappeared from the world which had once known him. Excessive haste to be rich, the gambling fever, an unlucky speculation, these were the successive steps by which he had reached starvation and despair. For a man of his temperament all things seemed ended. He was heading for the river when there smote upon his jaded ear the sound of a flagellated drum, the clear note of a silver trum-

“What is the matter, my brother?” pet. Then, as he listened instinctively: "Ah! 1 have sighed to rest me Deep in the quiet grave.” It was no dream. It was not the result of a fevered imagination. The voice was unmistakable, the intonation quite beyond question. His manhood left him suddehly, and he sank down upon the curbstone, sobbing. The clear, sweet voice came nearer. A gentle hand was laid upon his arm. "What is the matter, my brother? What can we do to help you?” Soft, hurrying footsteps followed him into the shadowy, darkened sidestreet to which he hastened. Aga n the gentle hand was laid upon his arm. “It*B no use, Margaret. Do you suppose I’ll be cad enough to let you help me, after the treatment you have received at my hand? God bless you—-good-by.” The girl made no immediate answer —in words. , Turning, she beckoned to the bluecoated co-worker who had followed her from the lighter street. “This is a very dear friend of mine, "Lieutenant Caldwell,” ahe told him. with a voice which shook a little from varied emotions, but with eyes which shone and sparkled, “and he is in trouble, in need of assistance. I know I can trust you to do all that you can for him, for my sake as well as for the sake of —the man who is going to be my husband some day.” “Margaret!” The man was humbled as neither poverty, slights, hunger, cold, nor raggedness had been potent to humble

hlm. But there was no Dlttefnesa In the humility with which he kissed her fingers, there in the darkened street. “Margaret, you are an angel, and I will be worthy of you yet. I swear It. I will be your husband some day —it the good Lord and yourself will allow It—but I’ll be a man first, by God!" And the quiet stars, looking down Impressively on the flagellated drum and the throbbing hearts of the men and women around it, saw and knew, somehow, that a new soul had been born.