It was a cheery "good night" and a cheery "good morning." After several
months our anarchist succeeded in finding his brother's address in
Philadelphia. The brother offered him a home and a chance to work, so
it was arranged for our friend to go to him.
As he was bidding me "adieu" he said: "When we first met, you
asked me if I had read any anarchistic writings, and I answered
you untruthfully. I have read the authors you mentioned, and in my
desperation I do not know to what extreme I might not have gone, for I
had lost faith in all men.
"But to see these young men at the Colony, forgetful of their own
troubles, trying to help me to a renewal of courage, gave me a clearer
viewpoint of life--the blood I see now in my dreams is not that of the
capitalist done to death by a communistic mob--it is the blood of the
gentle Christ, who said:
"'Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.'"
[Illustration: MAIN BUILDING FROM THE BUNGALOW]
A BASHFUL BEGGAR
"Faint heart ne'er won fair lady."
A Bashful Beggar
"It is his diffidence," the good lady told me, "that has caused the
young man to fail dismally in this strenuous age of materialism. His is
a gentle spirit!"
At their first meeting, she told me, when he called at her home and
asked for something to eat, he appeared so shy and embarrassed that she
was immediately interested in him. He blushed and stammered in a most
pitiable way, and after he had eaten heartily of the roast beef and
potatoes placed before him he wanted to hurry away, hardly having the
courage to remain and thank his benefactor.
The good lady told me all this in such a serious manner that I felt
I must accept it seriously, and when she suggested that I drive over
to a neighboring village to meet the boy at the train, because, being
unaccustomed to travel, he could never find his way alone to the
Colony, I arranged to meet him.
There are simple-minded men--mental defectives--who are oftentimes
helpless as children, and I was inclined to put this boy in that class.
But the lad whom I found waiting for me at the station came out to meet
me in a manner so self-possessed that for the instant I was startled.
The report of him seemed to be much in error.
"I ought not to have put you to all this trouble," he said, in ready
apology.
"The letter," I replied, "stated that you might not be able to find
your way."
He gave me a sly, shrewd glance, and then, confident that he was
understood, he said simply, "Indeed?"
"Naturally you did not confide in the lady who sent you, that you had
freighted it through most States as far as the railroads go?"
"No, I did not approach her as a penitent at confessional," he
answered, "but rather as a panhandler at the side door. Confession may
help to advance a man spiritually, but to a man living on the material
plane, would you advise it?"
"Is it true," I asked, "that you stammered and blushed when our friend
offered you roast beef and potatoes?"
"It is my best canvass," he replied.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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