CONTENTS Introductory 13 A Journey to our Monastery 17 Mary and the Baby 25 My Problem with Slippery Jim. 37 Our Friend, The Anarchist 55 A Bashful Beggar 69 Fritz and His Sun Dial 75 The Waiter Who Did Not Wait. 87 Compounding a Felony 95 The Passing of Sullivan 105 When Sister Called 115 Edison's Evening Star 125 In the World of Wanderlust 133 The Two Jeans 137 A JOURNEY TO OUR MONASTERY If any pilgrim monk come from distant parts to dwell with us, and will be content with the customs which he finds in the place, and do not perchance by his lavishness disturb the Monastery, he shall be received. --_Saint Benedict._ A Journey to our Monastery The man had walked the entire distance from New York to the Self Master Family. In truth, he had walked more than the entire distance, for once or twice he had lost his way--as many a man has done in other walks of Life. Painfully he had retraced his steps to the right road. The mistakes had told heavily upon his failing strength. They had made him just that much more weary with it all. No doubt mistakes are wonderfully educational; they make men wiser, and therefore better, for in the final analysis wisdom and goodness are synonymous. He complained bitterly at the hardness of his lot and found little comfort in the thought that he might reach the Colony too late for the evening meal. His friend who had met him walking aimlessly up and down Broadway assured him that there was always a coffee pot boiling on the old-fashioned cook stove in the boys' kitchen--that the Colony House never locked its doors. To a man who feels that every door in the world is locked against him there is comfort in the thought that there is really one place where he may find a welcome. His friend had said that there would be no questions asked him on his arrival--no investigation. "No investigation," he muttered aloud, "thank God! It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than it is for a 'down-and-out' man to convince Professional Charity that he is really hungry. I think they would have given me a 'hand-out' when they investigated me the last time if I could have told them what town my mother was born in." He smiled with weak cynicism at the folly of his thoughts, and then became suddenly serious, for on the side hill in front of a large colonial house, worked out in white stone, were the words "The Self Masters." He stopped and studied the quiet, home-like scene from the road. All these weary miles he had come to ask food and shelter, and now his courage seemed to fail him. He sat down by the road side and leisurely took his pipe from his pocket. Then he prepared tobacco with the utmost care, filled the pipe and lighted it. "THE SELF MASTERS"