Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 10, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 October 1900 — ROBERT HARDY’S SEVEN DAYS A DREAM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

ROBERT HARDY’S SEVEN DAYS A DREAM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

By Eev. CHARLES M. SHELDON. Uttor of “In Bis Steps," '‘The OrudfixUrn of PhCUp Strong" "Malcom Kirk," Etc. Copyright, WOO, by Advance Publishing Oo.] “Well, we must be moving on. It’s wanner In the lockup than out here. So come along, young fellow, and do your talking tomorrow morning with the;; rest of the drunks and disorderlies.” “Stop!” cried Robert Hardy. “This Is my son! Do you understand? What are you going to do?” “Well, governor, that’s a pretty question at this time of day. Do! I’m going to jug him for assault with intent to commit highway robbery. It’s an affair for the ‘pen,’ I can tell you.” “But yon heard him say It was all a Joke.” “A pretty Joke to try to hold a man up on the highway and demand his money! Oh, no! That’s carrying a joke too far. I’m bound to obey orders. We’ve been after this gang of young chaps for a month now.” “But, officer, you don’t understand! This is my son!” “Well, what of that? Don’t we Jug sons every day for some deviltry or other? Do you suppose you are the only father whose son Is going to the devil?” “O God, no!” cried Mr. Hardy, with sudden passion. “But this is my older boy. It would kill his mother to have him arrested and put in jail for trying to roD his own father. Yet lie was once innocent— What am I saying? He might be now if I had done my duty.” Mr. Hardy confronted the officer with a certain sorrowful dignity which ■ even that hardened defender of the law understood. “Officer, let the boy go. I will answer for it if any blame falls on you for it

my son!”

He was not at fault in this matter. He was not the one who assaulted me. He did not touch me. You could not get a particle of testimony against him. And, besides that, it is necessary that he return with me. This is a case for the law of God. This belongs to a higher court." The officer hesitated; Mr. Hardy stepped nearer, his son. “George," he said as if forgetting for a moment that the officer was present, “did you know that Clara and Bess and Will were in the accident last night?" George turned pale and tremblingly replied: “No, father. Were they hurt? Was Bess”~ Xhe boy seemed moved as ms ratner had not yet seen him. “No: they were not—that Is, Bess was not hurt at all. But Will was severely bruised, and Clara still lies In a state of stupor or unconsciousness, and we do not know what the end will be. I was on my way just now to get some needed articles from the doctor’s house. You must come back with roe. The law has no hold on you.” “Maybe the law hasn’t any hold on him, but Michael Finnerty has. I don't just like the idea, mister man, of letting the boy go yet,” replied the stubborn and unusually dutiful officer. Mr. Hardy began to appeal to the man’s love of his own children. It did not seem to move him In the least until he mentioned the fact that it was cruelty to keep the suffering girl at home waiting for her father’s return. Finnerty finally loosened his hold on George and said slowly and painfully: “And If I lose me job I’ll be knowing who was to blame for it. I always told Michael Finnerty that he was too soft hearted to go on the force!” “You won’t suffer, officer. Many thanks! Come, George." And father and son moved off together, while the defender of the law stood Irresolute, watching them disappear through the storm and muttering to himself: “I’m a soft hearted fool. I ought to ’a’ been born a female hospital nurse, I had.” During that walk home, after Mr. Hardy had gone Ground by the doetor’s with George, not a word was exchanged. The storm was increasing. The two walked along in silence, but when George wnlked into-the hall at home he turned and saw a look on his father’s face that smote him to the heart, for he was not yet a hardened soul. Mr. Hardy ha’d lived years In that experience. No one conld tell how his heart had been tortured by vftiat he had endured that night, but the mark of It was stamped physically on hla face, and he knetv that he would bear It to his grave. Mrs.' Hardy came rubping down

stair* ai the two came in, and a* George turned and faced her she held out her arms, crying: “My boy I My hoy! We have been so anxious about you!” What, not one word of reproach, of rebuke, of question as to what he had been doing all this time that the family had been suffering! No; not one word. Ah. mother lovet It is the most wonderful thing on earth, next to the love of God for the sinner. It is even that, for It is the love of God expressing itself through the mother, who is the temple of the loving God. George dashed away a tear and then, going up to his mother, laid his cheek against hers, and she folded her arms about him and cried a little and asked no questions, and after a moment's silence he stammered out a few words of sorrow at having caused her pain, and she Joyfully accepted his broken explanation of how he had not known of the.accident to Clara and the others. It was true he had gone out the evening before, fully Intending to go down to the scene of the accident; but, coming across some of Ills old companions, he had gone off with them and spent tW night in a disgraceful carouse and throughout the day bnd been under the Influence of liquor more or less, dimly conscious that a great disaster had happened down the road, but not sober enough to realize its details or Its possible connection with those of his own home. ~ The sudden meeting with his father had startled him out of the drowsy intoxication he had fallen into as the day progressed. Now, as he felt his mother’s arms around him and realized a little what the family had been called upon to endure, he felt the shame and disgrace of his own conduct. Mr. Hardy went up stairs and consulted with the doctor, who wondered at liis protracted absence. There was no change in Clara yet. She lay In a condition which could not be called a trance nor a sleep. She did not seem to be in any great pain, but she was unconscious of all outside conditions. After a little talk with his mother George came up and inquired after Bess and Will. They, were both sleeping, and after the doctor had gone out the father, and mother and son sat down together in the room where Clara lay. Mr. Hardy did not say a word to George about the incident of the evening. The shame of it was too great yet. When men of Mr. Hardy’s self contained, repressed, proud nature are pained, it is. with an intense inward fire of passion that cannot bear to break out into words.

George had sense enough, to offer to relieve his parents of the burden of watching during the night, and during the exchange of watchers along toward morning, as Mrs. Hardy slipped into tbe room to relieve the boy, she found him kneeling down at a couch with his face buried in the cushions. She raised her face In thanksgiving to God and went softly out. The morning "dawned gray with snow which still whirled in wreaths about the sorrowing homes of Barton, but Robert Hardy thought of the merciful covering it would make for the ghastly piles of ruin down under the bridge uml along the hanks of the river. He said to himself: “This is my fourth day. How can I best spend it? What shall I do?” He kneeled and prayed, and rose somewhat refreshed. The forenoon went rapiaiy py, ana before be knew it noon was near. The time had passed in watching Clara, visiting with Bess and Will and doing some necessary work for the company in his little office clown stairs. He did not feel like saying anything to George yet. James Caxton had been in, and tQe first thing he had mentioned had been his own act in the meeting the night

Mrs. Hardy found him kneeling down at

a couch. before. Mr. Hardy thanked God f 2 r It, and a prayer went out of his heart for his own son, that the Spirit might touch him In his sin and bring him into the light of Christ A little after noon the storm cleared up, and Robert prepared to go down to the shops. Clara had not yet of her stupor. The doctor bad called and done what he could. .There waa nothing In particular that Mr. Hardy could do in the case, so he,,went put about 1 o’clock and entered his office at the shop, hoping as he went in that he would have no trouble with the men. Mr. Burns reported everything quiet, and the manager, with a sigh of relief, proceeded with the routine duties of the business. Nothing of any special Interest occurred through the afternoon. The storm had ceased entirely, and the sun had come ont clear and warm. People were clearing off the walks, and the ringing of sleigh bells was distinct in the office, even over the Incessant hum of the big engine. Toward 3 o'clock one of Mr. Hardy’* old friends, an officer of the road, came in atad said there was a general ipovement on foot through Barton to bold a

monster mass meeting £» the town hall for the benefit of the sufferers, both la. the railroad accident and in the explosion of the Sunday before in the shops. It was true' the company would settle for damages, but in many cases through Barton the adjustment of Halms would not be made until much suffering and hardship had been endured. *~ ! -t There was a common feeling on tho part of the townspeople that a meeting for public conference would result in much good, and there was also, as has been the case in other large horrors, a craving to relieve the strain of feeling by public gathering and consultation. “Can you come out to the meeting; Hardy?” asked his friend. Mr. Hardy thought a minute and plied, “Yes; I think I can.” Already an idea had taken shape in his mind which he could not help feeling was Inspired by God. “Might be a good thing if you could come prepared to make some remarks. I find there Is a disposition on the part of the public to charge the road with carelessness and mismanagement.” “I’ll say a word or two,” replied Mr. Hardy, and after a brief talk on business matters his friend went out. Robert immediately sat down to bis desk, and for an hour, interrupted only by an occasional Item of business brought to him by his secretary, he Jotted down copious notes. The thought which had come to -him when his friend suggested the meeting was this: He would gp and utter a message that burned within him, a message which the events of the past few days made imperative should be uttered. He went home absorbed In the great idea. He had once in his younger days been famous for his skill In debate. He had no fear of his power to deliver a message of life at the present crisis In his own. He at once spoke of the meeting to his wife. “Mary, what do you say? I know every minute Is precious. I ow r e to you and these dear ones at home a very sacred duty, but no less, it seems to me, is my duty to the society where I have lived all these years, doing literally nothing for its uplift toward God, who gave us all life and power. I feel as if he would put a message Into my mouth that would prove a blessing to this community. It seems to me'this special opportunity Is providential.” “Robert,” replied his wife, smiling at him through happy tears, “it is the will of God. Do your duty as he makes It to you.”

It had been an agitating week to the •wife. She anticipated its close with a ffioiincr akin to terror. What would tne end no? She was compelled to say to herself that her husband was not insane, but the thought that he was really to be called out of the world in some mysterious manner at the end'of the rapidly approaching Sunday had several times come over her with a power that threatened her own reason. Nevertheless the week so far, in spite of its terror and agitation, had a sweet joy for her. Her husband had come back to her, the lover as be once had been,- only with the added tenderness of all the years of their compan lonsliip. She thanked tlie Father for it, and when the hour came for Robert to go down to the meeting she blessed him and prayed heaven to make his words to the people like the words of God.

“Father, what do you want me to do? Shall I stay here?” asked George, who had not s timed out of the house all day. He had watched by Clara faithfully. She was still in that mysterious condition of unconsciousness which made her case so puzzling to the doctor. Mr. Hardy hesitated a moment, then said: “No, George. I would like to have you go with me. Alice can do all that is necessary. But let us all pray together now before we go out. The Lord is leading us mysteriously, but we shall some time know the reason why.” So in the room where Clara lay they aU kneeled down except Will, who lay upon a lounge near his unconscious sister. Mr. Hardy as he clasped his wife’s hand in his own poured out his soul in this petition: “Dear Lord, we know thou dost love us, even though we cannot always know why thou dost allow suffering and trouble, and we would thank thee for the things Mint cannot be destroyed, for the loves that cannot suffer death, for the wonderful promises of the life to come. Only we have been so careless of the things that belong to thy kingdom. We have been so selfish and forgetful of the great needs and Bufferings and sins of earth. Pardon us, gracibus Redeemer. Pardon me. for lam the chief offender. Yea, Lord, even as the robber on the cross was welcomed Into paradise, welcome thou me. But we pray for our dear oues. May they recover. Make this beloved one who now lies unknowing among ns to come back Into the universe of tense and sound, to know us a'ftpßmlle upon us again. “We say, ‘Thy will be done.’ Grand wisdom, for thou knowest best. Only our hearts will cry out for help, and thou knowest our hearts better than any one else. Bless me this night as I stand before the people. This la no selfish prayer, dear Lord. I desire only thy glory; I pray only for thy kingdom. But thou hast appointed my days to live. Thou hast sent tne the message, and I cannot help feeling the solemn burden and joy of it. “I will say to the people that thou art most important of all in this habitation of the flesh. And now bless us all. Give us new hearts. Make us to feel the true meaning' of existence here. Reveal to us thy splendor. Forgive all the past and make Impossible In the children the mistakes of the parent. Deliver us from evil, end thine ■hall bo the kingdom forever. Amen. Wtfen Mr. Hardy and George reached tne town halli they fpund ft lbrge

errwvd gctharlng. They had some Olflt* eulty In gaining entrance. Mr. Hardy at once passed up to. the platform, where the .chairman of the meeting greeted hhaj and said' he would expect him to malp some remarks during the evening. Robert sat down at one end. of the platform and watched the hall fill with people, nearly all well known to him. There was'an unusually large crowd •f boys and young men, besides a large gathering otf his own men from th« shops, together with a great number of citizens and business men, a repre tentative' audience for the place! brought together under the influence of the disaster and feeling somewhat the breaking down of artificial social distinctions In the presence of the grim leveler Death, who had come so near to them the last few dnra (to be continued.}

“Stop!” cried Robert Hardy. “This is