The Open Road. Adventures XI. and XII.

The Open Road BY JOHN HENRY EVANS, OP THE LATTER-DAY SAINTS UNIVERSITY Adventure XI. In Which Brocketts Has a Loaf and Some Thoughts by the Weber. When the train reached Ogden, in Utah, Brocketts got down from the baggage car platform, cramped and aching, to go in search of something to eat. There were then, as at present, lunch counters at every station on the railway, but he could not avail himself of the accommodation, considering what a little way a solitary nickel will go at a railway lunch counter. The only thing that remained, therefore, was to get work in order that he might eat.

It was early morning of a sunny day, when everybody either whistled or sang, or felt like it.Surely, then, it would be a simple matter for a poor boy to find work enough to get a few meals. For Brocketts intended to stay at Ogden only till he could obtain a few cents to serve him till the next station, as he had done at one or two places already. But this time he had reckoned without his host. The men whom he accosted at the stores, hotels, and private residences, whether whistling or not, had nothing for anybody to do. Business was very dull on the business blocks, and elsewhere everybody did his chores. So the boy proceeded disconsolately to spend his last piece of money. Like Benjamin Franklin, of whom, however, Brocketts had — not then heard, he bought some bread not three puffy rolls, like that great man, but one only — as affording the greatest quantity for the least amount. With this under his arm he moved away in the direction of the river, where there were no houses. Finding a place where the bank was low, he went to the water's edge and sat down on the dry cobble-stones to eat his breakfast. He broke off pieces of bread, dipped them into the clear stream, and lifted them to his month soaked and dripping. A lean dog, hungry-looking as the boy, approached to what it considered a safe distance, licking its chops in anticipation of a repast. The last

THE OPEN ROAD 397 piece, out of sheer sympathy for the animal, Brocketts threw to his grateful The dog swallowed it at a single gulp, companion. after the manner of hungry curs, and in a twinkling looked again as if he had not had the morsel. The boy himself was not sure that his tossing the bread had not been done in imagination, so quickly had it disappeared. Brocketts was not what you might call a religous boy. True, he had been reared, if you could call his bringing up by so pretentious a word, a Catholic, and had therefore learned his catechism, counted his rosary, and gone through whatever other forms are customary in that church. But these had not made so deep an impression as the nuns could have wished on the little orphan. Anyway, if you had told him that there was a distinctly divine guidance in the affairs of men, homeless orphans as well as kings and emperors, ten chances to one he would have laughed in your face— unless, indeed, his native gentlemanliness had restrained him. And yet even now, as he sat on those cobblestones on the river bank, he was conscious of a peculiar feeling in him that his journey now lay south and not west. In brief, he felt distinctly that he should give up his idea of going to California and go to Salt Lake City instead. He tried to argue this feeling away. There was every reason why he should continue his way to the coast. He was anxious to make a fortune, not for his own selfish interest, but for the purpose of making possible that long search for his parents ; and California was the only place where it was likely he could make a fortune, if there was any likelihood at all about it. Besides, there was the matter, of personal pride and honor to be considered. Any decent fellow owed it to himself not to give up for a mere whim something that he had once set out upon. But there was that feeling more dominant than ever, in the face of all his reasoning, and, like Banquo's ghost, it just would not down. The upshot of it all was, that Brocketts got ^. retraced his steps to the depot, and inquired when the next train would be leaving for Salt Take Citv. There would be none, he was told, till the evening. Evening-, however, found him on the depot platform watching the train. Tt was still light, and the lad wondered how he would manage to get a ride. Evidently he must get one through the con- "Better ductor this time, for the man looked about so vigilantly.

898 IMPROVEMENT ERA ask him," he told himself, "it can do no harm, and may do good." And ask him he did. But the answer he got sent him away He walked toward the end of the platform broken-hearted. farthest away from the train so that he might reflect. was a little while yet till the passenger should pull out, It and the trainman in blue uniform and with lighted lantern hung on his arm was pacing the platform. Several times he looked at the boy. Was he thinking better of his harsh refusal? Coming closer and closer toward the dejected Brocketts, but in such a way as to make it all appear a mere thoughtless incident, he said in a low tone: "I guess you'd better get on. boy, if you want to go to Salt Lake. But take the last seat in the car, so's not to be noticed." Brocketts' heart was instantly on his lips, gratitude written on every feature. He hastily did as he was told, coming to himself only after the conductor's "All aboard !" and the preliminary ringing of the engine's bell. "Wake up, boy," the conductor whispered, "we're nearly there." Against his will the monotonous sing-song of the passenger car had put Brocketts to sleep. "Where you going to when you get to Salt Lake?" inquired his new friend, after the boy had rubbed dreamland from his eyes. "I don't know, sir." "Have you had anything to eat lately?" Brocketts told him about the morning's repast. "Great Scott, boy! Haven't you any money, either?" "No, sir; I spent my last nickel this morning." "Didn't you tell anyone at Ogden your condition?" "No, sir they didn't ask me." ;

The conductor felt in his pocket, drew out a piece of money, and said "Here's a quarter to buy something to eat with. Everybody has to eat, you know, especially boys." Brocketts thanked him and, putting the twenty-five cents into his pocket, vowed he would never forget the conductor's kindness. It was dark now. The City was not then lighted up by a thousand flickering arcs. All the light that was then visible to Brocketts issued out of the windows in the houses. Brocketts was the last out. A few carriages, public and private, were there at the depot, but no street cars. These latter were not to make

THE OPEN ROAD 399 their noisy appearance for many years even in the larger cities of the east. A number of people who had got off the train walked in the direction which the boy rightly judged to be the central part of town. He followed them in the hope of finding a place to eat in. By the time he had gone a considerable distance, and when only three persons were left of the group which had got off the train with him, he perceived, not a great way ahead of him, a street lamp such as he had seen in New York. He knew then that he was approaching what he afterwards learned to call Main street. Passing the New Tabernacle — that magnificent structure, rearing, like a huge turtle, its giant back to the night sky he — fully believed himself to be looking upon a natural hilltop. Still searching for an eating-house, he turned down Main street,where were some more lamps. At last he discovered one in a large building which he took for a hotel, but at that late hour only two persons were in the room, besides the waiters. Enspirited by the thought that he had money in his pocket, or rather in his hand, he entered boldly and ordered a full meal, and not more than twenty-five cents, sir, if you please. Never had there been such a supper! He purred with the thought of it all. He conceived a great fondness for Salt Lake, even though the waiter stood impertinently by as if he expected him to try to make away with the plates and spoons. The meal over, he wandered up and down the principal thoroughfare for half an hour or so, revolving in his mind all possible courses to pursue. In the end, he turned down the street leading past the "hill"—the one he had come up on— and walked rapidly back to the depot. There he hunted for, and found, the car in which he had come from Ogden, arranged the cushions after a manner he had seen travelers do, and lay down to sleep for the night, regardless of whether the train might not be making a trip somewhere before he awoke.

Adventure XII.— In Which Is Shown That Not Every Fine Bird Wears Fine Feathers. center Mr. Frederick Bernstein sat in his caged office in the his morning of the store busily engaged in reading and assorting stout, with a square mail. He was somewhat past fifty, reasonably penetrating, gray head, scanty beard fast turning white, and keen,

400 IMPROVEMENT ERA eyes. The chill of the October air had been expelled from the office by a fire, whose warm glow looked out pleasantly through the strips of isinglass that girded the waist of the little heater. !" "Here's a boy to see you, sir Turning about in his new swivel chair, Mr. Bernstein recognized one of his clerks, but his quick eyefell immediately upon a ragged sketch of a lad, dusty and tanned as from long travel on a summer's road. "And what can I do for you, young man?" he asked in a kindly voice. "I want to get a job, sir." "Oh, but I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place. All our positons for boys are taken just now. Maybe if you'll come around in a week or so, there'll be a vacancy; and then I'll consider your application." And Mr. Bernstein faced about quickly to resume his work at the pile of letters on his desk. But the sturdy little figure was not to be got rid of so easily. This was by no means the first time in his life that an attempt had been made to turn Brocketts away by holding out a promise that was not meant to be a promise. "Couldn't I clean the sidewalk in front of the store?" he asked, undaunted by the rebuff. And then he added, by way of heading off a possible objection, "It's awful dirty, sir!" The man wheeled round, surprised into a smile. He looked the boy over from head to foot — the mat of yellow hair that looked as if it had never had a comb on it the unwashed face and hands, ;

for in truth it had been a good while, longer than he would have liked to confess, since they had felt the cleansing power of water and soap ; the soiled and tattered clothing, including even the hat he now held in his hand; and, finally, the well-ventilated shoes laced with white wrapping twine and covered with dust. Brockets was beginning to think Mr. Bernstein would presently take him apart, piece by piece, in order to make sure that he had been put together properly. But the severe inspector said not a word, till he had completed his inspection. Then he reached down far under his desk, fished out a plain red brick of the sort used in building houses, and held it up in one hand, while with his other hand he dug down into an unfathomable right pocket in the trousers' leg and brought up a half-dollar piece.

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"Here," he said, "take this brick and deposit it in the southwest corner of lot nineteen in block twenty-six of plat A, the marked side up. And here's fifty cents for your trouble." The boy was non-plussed for a minute, but, taking the brick, he said: "Yes, sir; but I don't want the money till I've done the work." "Take the money," the man said; "I insist!" And Brocketts took it and walked out of the store. Was "lot nineteen" and "block twenty-six" and "plat A" in the jungles of South Africa or in the regions of the North Pole, or where was it ? This was the vast query en the lips of the boy as he walked down any street in any direction till he could collect his wits. One thing, though, was certain, he would find it wherever it might be —unlesswas non-existent. And he would it find out that, too, and tell the man, to his face. A pleasant-appearing old gentleman was coming toward him. He looked as if he knew everything. "Can you tell me, sir, where I can find lot nineteen in block twenty-six of plat A ?" The gentleman that looked as if he knew everything looked for the moment as if he knew positively nothing. Surely, his senses had gone a-Maying —or had the boy's? Thinking that the boy's had, he walked on, inspecting the store signs. Brocketts, nothing daunted, asked the next person he met, and the next, and yet the next, till, it would seem, he had the whole town by the ears, wondering what mysterious import there could be in "lot nineteen, of block twenty-six, of plat A." One person —a woman, and the only one of either sex who really took him in earnest— suggested that he go to the city recorder's office and inquire. And where might the city recorder's office be, please? She told him, and he went there. But his griefs were far from being over when he had been shown, at the recorder's, a large map of the city. He drew a map of his own, beginning where the office stood, and went out with it in his hand.Then with great difficulty he wormed his way block by block, bending the paper out of sight when he had gone the distance it represented, till he reached the anxiously looked for "lot nineteen." The lot itself lay between two fences, and to reach the south-

402 IMPROVEMENT EftA west corner of it he had to penetrate a veritable jungle of weeds twice as tall as himself. But he found it, as last, depositing the troublesome brick in such a way as to leave uppermost the side on which had been carved a big star, with "Frederick Bernstein" written on the side. Then he hurried back to the office in the center of the Bernstein store. The head of the firm met him with a strangely suspicious smile, which the boy returned in kind. "I left the brick, sir!" "Did you? That's good. Now you may clean the sidewalk. You said, I believe, that it was dirty." Mr. Bernstein walked out through the rear of the store to where the stable-boy was feeding some horses. "Tom," he said, "go as soon as you can to lot nineteen and see if there's a brick there, and notice which side's up. When you return, come through the back way." The boy smiled. "Yes, sir!" was all he said. He knew, wihout asking, where lot nineteen could be found. He mounted one of the work animals and was off in no time. In truth, Mr. Bernstein was a strange man in some respects. He had his own way of doing things. One of his hobbies was to see what men were made of —whether they had a backbone or only a column of gristle running up and down the spine. Every man in his employ had been tested by some apparently trifling task. The brick method was lately a favorite one for boys. He had applied it many times in the last year or two. Nine out of every ten boys had either failed to locate "lot nineteen" and return to the store, or had thrown the brick away at the first convenient opportunity. In either event they were better off, they thought, to the extent of half a dollar, and their would-be employer was well rid of them and at small cost. When Tom came in with the brick under his arm, Mr. Bernstein was distinctly pleased. Did he find it in the southwest corner? and was the star-side up? To both of which questions the stable-boy answered in the affirmative. Meanwhile, Brocketts belabored the sidewalk. It was dirty. There was no doubt about that. Either yesterday or the day before a wind must have risen, a fearful gale, and blown things around furiously. Paper and other light articles, with sand and dust a-plenty, fairly littered the walk. The first of these the boy

THE OPEN ROAD 403 gathered up and deposited in a wooden box behind a stove in the store. Getting a sprinkling can and a broom, he gave those cobblestones such a sweeping as they had not received in a long time. He removed a certain dirty blotch that had been there during several previous sweepings. The job done, he went to the office with the announcement that it was finished. "Very well," said Mr. Bernstein. "Let's go and see how well you have done it." The two walked out to the front door, where the man inspected the work. They went back to the office together without speaking. "How much do you think I ought to pay you for this?" Mr. Bernstein asked. "I don't know, sir. You can tell better than I what it's worth." But the line of the man's thoughts were switched at this moment, for he suddenly asked: "What's your name? and how old are you?" "Brocketts, sir — Brocketts Porter. I'm sixteen." "You live here, do you, Brocketts?" "No, sir." Would Mr. Bernstein question him about his origin and history? To deceive went sorely against the grain with him, and to tell the truth and be turned away was a thing he would do anything almost rather than face. But Mr. Bernstein saved him from the temptation to lie by asking: "A stranger, then? And how long have you been here?" — "Only since last night I came here from Ogden last night." "Oh. Any relation to the Porters of Ogden?" Brocketts unhesitatingly said that he wasn't. "And so you'd like to work somewhere?" "Yes, sir."

Mr. Bernstein drummed absently with his fingers. "How would you like to work for me ?" Brocketts' eyes popped. "I'd like it, sir!"

"Very well, then ; I'll give you two dollars and a half a week,

to begin with. What do you say ?" "I'll take he said, though, as a matter of fact, he it, sir,"

thought the wages rather small. The phrase, "to begin with," was what he saw most promising. "Good ! And now for your pay for cleaning that sidewalk.

404 IMPROVEMENT ERA Here's a quarter. You did a good job, and besides it was dirty, as you say. Brocketts took the money and murmured his thanks. "Where are you going to stay tonight?" asked Mr. Bernstein,for the first time thinking of the boy's more immediate needs. As for Brocketts, he was beginning to think that he had run upon a living interrogation point. But he answered: "I don't know, sir. 1 suppose I c'n find a place somewhere." "No," Mr. Bernstein said; "I'm not going to let you wander about, and take chances of losing you." Then, after a few minutes' reflection and drumming on the desk, he added, "I'm going to raise your wages already." Brocketts was all astonishment. "Come with me," the man said, at the same time closing his desk and leading the way through the rear door. They went out to the stables. "Tom, here's a boy that's going to work here, and I want you to help him fix up that room in the loft for him, so that he can stay there for a few nights." "Yes, sir," said the stable-boy. And when Mr. Bernstein had gone, "What's your name, kid?" "Brocketts." "And mine's Tom." "Yes, I know that." "How'd you know?" "Heard Mr. Bernstein call you that." "Oh!" Then a pause, in which the two sized up each other. Tom was the first to speak. "You the kid 'at carried the brick to lot nineteen?" Brocketts grinned an assent. "Well, you've made good, ain't you. First time it's ever been there —since I took it there myself. This, Brocketts somehow knew was a lie, but he did not say so. He said instead that carrying bricks was a very commonplace occupation. "Sure!" admitted Tom, "when you've got to carry 'em all the time. — But carrying one brick ain't anyhow, it ain't when it's for Mr. Bernstein. Come on, follow your uncle !"

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— And the newly-acquired relative whether on the father's or on the mother's side, Brocketts did not stop to find out led the — way back to the stable end, up a dangerously steep stairway, or, to be strictly accurate, a ladder-way, and into a box-like room under one of the ample gables. Certainly, it was not the most attractive place in the world. It was innocent of all adornment. Daylight and the chillcame in through the spaces between the boards as well as through the unstopped square window that served to' admit the light. Pieces of dirty paper, wisps of straw and hay, and various odds and ends usually found in unused barn lofts, were strewn all over the floor.

"How d'you like it ?" Tom asked before Brocketts could fairly get time to take in the situation. "All right. I c'n sweep it out and make it do till I get a better one." "Sure ! And I c'n help you." The two boys set to work with a heartiness that did them both credit. Two brooms sufficed to raise such a dust as threatened to suffocate them. It did drive them to the opening for a breath of clean air every three seconds. Then they lugged up the ladder-way two bundles of straw and laid it out in the corner for a bed. A roll of bedding that had been stowed away in an unused manger in the stable they took up piecemeal, shook the quilts and blankets well, and spread them over the straw. "There! Guess that'll do all right," commented Tom. "That's fine!" echoed Brocketts, as he thought of the many nights he had spent under the open sky with his three friends and the wheelbarrow. "Now I'll go and get me something to eat — it'll be dark soon. When does the store close?" "Six o'clock sharp." A few minutes later you might have seen a lonely boy, ragged without, but happy within, sitting down on a lowly bed in a corner of that barn loft, greedily devouring some crackers and cheese. But presently, had you stayed there, you might have noticed the noisy chewing die away, to be succeeded by the heavy regular breathing of a tired lad fast asleep. Meanwhile, Mr. Bernstein was pleased as a boy. For that night he said to his wife "Mary, I've discovered a man— and I :

didn't have a lantern, either, like Diogenes. He's a little man. to be sure, but he'll be bigger after a while."

406 IMPROVEMENT ERA Mrs. Bernstein, a small woman of refined appearance, looked at her husband inquiringly. And he told her of the episode of the brick. She laughed. That was one of his humors. "Well, anyway, I expect a good deal from that boy. You always laugh at my tests of men's, or rather boys' mettle, but I tell you nowadays there's need of some test before you try them with responsibility. Besides, I like the little scamp! "Three things I've learned about him already: First, that he's honest. There's no reason in the world why he couldn't have gone off with that half-dollar. Second, that he'll do exactly what you tell him to do. Few boys can do it, and not every man. And then, he'll do what you tell him without asking a thousand questions as to how it's done and why it's done. Tomorrow I'm going to put him on the meanest work about the store, and if he does that as I think he will, you can sit back, Mary, and watch him grow into something." And both laughed heartily. (To be continued) To Teach the Young. H. J. Sears, M. D., Chicago, Illinois, sends the "Era" a clipping from the "Medical Council," Philadelphia. Pa., for May, 1911, and expresses the idea that it is worth repeating in the "Improvement Era." The article follows. Mr. Miller is a resident of Chicago: Doctor Bogam's article in the March "Council," citing the disastrous results of not instructing a young girl in regard to her menstruation, moves me to write of a family in which the opposite plan has been followed. Chance has made me acquainted with many members of the "Mormon" faith in Chicago, and, in spite of all the muckrakers have said in the magazines of late, I am glad to say that the "Mormons" of Chicago would be a welcome addition to any com- — munity in the country unless that community be too blinded by prejudice or too vicious to desire clean home life in its midst. One of these "Mormons," who is a business man and also an M. D., has a son just attaining his majority and a daughter in her later 'teens, and happier, sweeter and more loyal children it would be rare to meet. The boy has been the companion of his father, and has consulted his father on everything that has come into his life. He has looked to his father as the proper source of information on all sorts of questions, including the sex relation. The boy understands how he is made and for what. He knows the meaning of the impulses which no man can escape, and he knows the danger lines and the bounds which religion and law set against the sex instinct. I know the boy well, but he does not know that I know of the thoroughness of his preparation to meet the dangers of life. He is a boy to be loved and trusted. The girl has been likewise instructed by her mother, and the knowledge has not made her abnormal in the slightest degree. These parents have done their full duty. Would that their example could be followed in all of our homes. E. P. S. MILLER.