The Open Road: IX and X

The Open Road BY JOHN HENRY EVANS, OF THE LATTER-DAY SAINTS' UNIVERSITY Stage IX— Iii which Brocketts Plants a Seed that Sprouts and Grows and Spreads its Branches "What have you there, Brocketts ?" It was Dudley Brown speaking. He had stolen up the ladder of the barn, had lifted the latch noiselessly, and tip-toed to the box on which Brocketts was sitting bent over a book, and was now looking at the volume over Brocketts' shoulder. Brocketts jumped nervously. "My!" he cried, "but you scared me! What in all conscience did you do that for? Why didn't' you come in like a civilized man and not like a burglar?" Dudley did not answer. He only smiled. Also he brought over another box, placed it opposite Brocketts near the table, sat down on it leisurely, then reached over and took the volume to inspect its contents. Greene's History of the English People, he read. "Yes," Brocketts said, "I was reading about Thomas a'Becket when you came in. I had just got to the place where he was run through with the sword when you spoke. "Gee, Brocketts, I wonder you're alive now. I didn't know you were reading such a scary subject. Next time I'll know better." He turned over the pages of the history. And then — "Say, Brocketts, I'd like mighty well to read this with you." Brocketts looked pleased. "Would you, honest?" he asked. "Sure!" "Nothing would please me more," Brocketts went on. 'I've often wanted to ask you to do that, but I was afraid." "Afraid of what?" "Oh, you know more than I do, and — " "Cheese it, Brocketts!" "Anyway, I'm glad you want to. Let's begin at the beginning and study it carefully, discussing things as we go along."

924 IMPROVEMENT ERA. "I'm in favor of the discussion part of it," returned Dudley, "but you'll hardly enjoy the book up to where you are now, because you've been over it." "Yes, I will ! I haven't gone very far, you see. And then, besides, I didn't read it carefully enough. It'll do me good to go over it again." The two students began that very night. They read the whole of the first chapter of Greene's fine work, and talked about it. Not only that night did they thus pursue the study, but every night when Brocketts was not at school, exclusive of Sunday evening. They read alternately, always talking it over at the end of the chapter. When they got through Greene's history and were about to begin their next choice, which was Bancroft's History of the United States, the two were up in the barn loft congratulating themselves on the happy thought of reading together. "I'll tell you what would be a good thing, Dudley," said Brocketts, "better than what we're doing now. That is, to ask a few other fellows to join us and have a little society." "A rattling good idea, Brocketts," said Dudley. "It is rather selfish in us, keeping all this to ourselves. There's Ben Wilkins and Harry Tibbitts, and Nephi Benson — they'd be glad to join." "Harry Tibbetts doesn't work here at Bernstein's," objected Brocketts ; "and my idea is to have in the society only those who work here." "Why?" "Oh, I don't know — I think it would be a good thing, don't you?" But he did not. He wanted all the members to be employes of Mr. Bernstein merely because he believed it would serve to bind them together as his employes, and not merely as members of the society. He refrained from telling Dudley so, because he feared Dudley would question him too closely. Dudley, however, somewhat to Brockett's surprise, took up the idea enthusiastically. "That leaves out Harry, then," he said. "What do you think of Ben and Nephi?" "They're all right. Then there's Jed Nolan, Pete Enson, and Clem Jackson — how about them?" "All right, too. How many shall we have? Let's only have those five and us two. That'll make seven." The idea was agreed to. The matter was broached to five

THE OPEN ROAD. 925 other boys, they gladly accepted the invitation, and accordingly a night or two afterwards the seven young men met in Brocketts' room, some more boxes having been called into requisition, and a new oil lamp having replaced the candle of the evenings before. "We've got to have a chairman," Brocketts said, "or else we can't transact business. I move that Dudley Brown be our chairman." The motion was seconded, and before Dudley could finish his objection that this honor belonged to Brocketts as having first suggested the society, Brocketts had put the motion and it had prevailed, Dudley alone voting in the negative. Brocketts was made secretary. The rest of that evening was spent in discussing the details of the society. It was to be called the Wasatch Lyceum. Its purpose was mutual improvement. Every member, therefore, should have equal opportunity with every other. Each member was to take his turn at the offices, the term being one month, and at the various parts on the program, Robert's Rules of Order was to be rigidly enforced. The secretary was to report a constitution and bye-laws at the next meeting. Brocketts was at his wit's end to know what form the constitution and bye-laws should take, never having done anything like this before. But his friend Dargan knew and helped him freely. "A capital idea, Brocketts, a capital idea," said the bookman. "Some leading young men in the Church have just started a general movement like that, but it doesn't seem to be very popular. And so you're going to have only Mr. Bernstein's employes members ! You ought to get all of them, Brocketts — all of them. They need improvement — everybody does, no matter who he is." And so the Wasatch Lyceum was launched. For some time it was limited to the original seven members and met in the barn loft. But it grew. Other young men in Mr. Bernstein's employ, learning of the nature and purpose of the organization, wished to join. In time all those who worked for the firm, except the older men there, became members. At first, too, the Lyceum held its meetings in the barn loft, but as soon as its membership increased beyond the capacity of that small room, the society was

926 IMPROVEMENT ERA. compelled to look for larger quarters. These larger quarters were found in the room just behind Dargan's book store, which the book-seller had shown Brocketts once as being the place where the teachers of the state held their yearly institutes. It was an ideal place for such a society. The generous Mr. Dargan, enthusiastic for everything that promised to be an intellectual uplift, refused to accept any remuneration for the use of the room, till the boys declared they would go somewhere else unless he consented to receive a reasonable compensation. But he himself drew the line when it came to throwing at their disposal the reference books, which, he told them, the teachers used without expense. "You'll have to make use of them whenever you need them/' he said. The Lyceum did a great variety of things. Now the young men would take up the reading of a book, just as Dudley and Brocketts had read and discussed Greene's History of the English People. Now they would turn the association into a class for a few weeks with an instructor, some non-members of the society, employed for the purpose of teaching a definite subject like grammar or physiology or astronomy. In this way it was that some of the series known as Steele's "Fourteen Weeks" were gone through. Now they would turn the Lyceum into a debating society, when four or six members presented arguments affirrn • ative and negative, on popular themes, after which any other member was at liberty to discuss it, taking either side according to his bent. Now they would invite business men of standing to speak to them on particular principles or methods of commercial dealings. And now, for a change and to sharpen their wits at one another's expense, they became waggish, instituted a sort of question box, into which every member was invited to put his jokes, witticisms, puns, verses, whatnot, and which when opened afforded the greatest merriment. When it began as a society, the Wasatch Lyceum met but once a week, but after a time, as it increased in size and interest, it met three times a week. At each session except those where it was turned into a class, there was a critic, who took notice of errors in the matters discussed to the extent that he had observed them, but also of errors of speech so far as he was able to detect them. Nor was anyone exempt from criticism. The organiza-

THE OPEN ROAD. 927 tion followed without deviation the rule that every member should take his turn at the offices, including that of critic. Thus the Lyceum accomplished in part the same results that a night school attains, and in part results that are heyond the purpose or accomplishment of most night schools. It afforded the benefits of regular instruction by professional teachers in prescribed subjects, and also the advantages derived socially and intellectually from a society, effected voluntarily for a variety of aims involved in self-improvement. It served, too, as a strong bond of union in connection with the establishment owned by Mr. Bernstein, though he did not know of its existence, and increased the interest of its members in the concern and their efficiency to an extent that was to tell powerfully for the welfare of the institution at a future day. Stage X — /;/ which is Told How a Small Dose of Laudanum Helped on a Love Affair There is a kind of fire which has to be replenished every once in a while, else it will certainly go out, and there is another kind which feeds on itself and which, strangely enough, grows always brighter and steadier. Brocketts' must have been of this latter sort. And for the very good reason that, although, in the ten months since the party, he had seen Bessie Ward but once, and then only when she and Ray Silliman were on their way to a tabernacle service one Sunday afternoon, the lithesome figure, the radiant, talkative brown eyes, and the abundant, loose-flowing tresses which had bewitched him that night, sprang up before him, like a jack-in-the-box after you release the lid, whenever his hand or his brain betrayed the least tendency to lose its grip on whatever task it was about. But Brocketts saw to it that neither hand nor brain lost its grip very often. That would have been a token of weakness, and weakness was wholly unbecoming in a boy who wanted to get on in the world. That is why, more and more as the days and nights passed. Bessie and he became the warp and the woof of his thoughts about the future. Always, these months, his dawn of tomorrow held two figures — Bessie and himself. No drama of the future

928 IMPROVEMENT ERA. that he could imagine ever left these leading characters out. There were others, to be sure — his always newly-found father and mother, Dudley, the affable Mr. Dargan, and Mr. Bernstein. But the principal ones were Bessie and himself. Sometimes, though, there came moments when he had doubts as to the realization that his dreams concerning her would ever become true. "What right have I," he would ask himself in such moments, — "what right have I to think about her? She never thinks about me. She probably never will. So what's the use?" Nevertheless, he could not believe this. Herein, if in few other respects, he was a true lover. He knew, though he could not explain even to himself, that those swift glances he had received from her that night were a higher evidence than would be accepted in a court of law. Not that Brocketts had made no efforts to giye his dreams a more substantial basis than fancy. It is true, he had gone about it in a less aggressive way than he had gone about everything else. Your business man, young or old, is not the wisest in matters of sentiment. And then, besides, Brocketts' acquaintance in Salt Lake City was not of the widest. He had been a dozen or more times to the religious services in the ward house in which the Christmas party was held. But he had not seen her there. For how was he to know that that was Ray Silliman's ward and not Bessie's also ? To be sure, he could have found out this and some other things from Dudley, but Brocketts was timid and inexperienced in the affairs of the heart. And so he had kept his own counsel. Latterly he had even given up the idea of going to the ward chapel. When, however, he accidentally saw Bessie one Sunday, he suddenly acquired a fresh interest in the concerns of his soul. For he ran up into his room in the barn to tidy up, then walked rapidly in the direction of the temple block and into the immense building whose roof looked like the back of a turtle. There was a big congregation, into which Bessie and Ray had effectually disappeared. Brocketts' attention ran out at the eyes, so that he heard nothing of the singing and the preaching. He was dimly conscious of the facts that there was more or less music up there in the front, that a dark figure, after that, stood up behind the upper pulpit and said something, and once toward the end that

THE OPEN ROAD. 929 the people about him were staring wonderingly or smilingly at him, manifestly because he was not standing up with them. At last he made a hasty escape into the open air and then into the barn-loft. A fierce jealousy flared up within him. She was with the dude! He was with her rather, for Brocketts proceeded on the grounds that she was being compelled in her attentions. \nd what did that young fellow amount to, anyhow? Nothing — sheer nothing. He was only a dude. But Brocketts would show Bessie the difference between a coat of varnish and genuine woodwork. Veneering might be a good thing to look at, but it would easily rub off. And he would rub it off! That was what he would do, and in her very presence. Brocketts did not intend anything at all desperate by this. He only came to the conclusion that he would find where Bessie lived and that he would stand on the plane of open rivalry to the Silliman boy. That was all. How this should be accomplished, though, he did not appear to know. Maybe he had better run the risk of a conversation with Dudley. Dudley would surely know. This would be the best thing. It wouldn't matter much if Dudley did find certain things out. Several weeks, however, elapsed before what he called a good opportunity to do so occurred, and even then the faintest revelation of his secret was turned aside by something that proved better than an opportunity. It happened in this way. Dudley had been called on a mission. This fact he had communicated to Brocketts some time before. He was to leave home in two weeks from now. "There's to be a party for me next Friday night at Bishop Ward's," he said to Brocketts. "There'll be just a few of my best friends — boys and girls. I told them I wanted you there. Will you come?" "Sure !" Brocketts fairly shouted. "Bishop Ward's!" he said to himself. "Wonder if it was Bassie's father?" But he tried not to look this Question. Dudley went on — "They're going to give me a send-off in the meeting house

930 IMPROVEMENT ERA. the Friday after that. It'll be a public affair. I want you to come to that also." Brocketts promised to go. He would go to the ends of the earth if by doing so he could find any traces of Bessie. He found himself wondering whether the Dude would be there. Ray did not go, he thought, in Dudley's crowd. Nor did Bessie, he remembered. For Brocketts had been in Dudley's crowd a good many times, but without ever having set eyes on Bessie. This Bishop Ward could not, after all, be her father. Maybe he was an uncle, or something. Brocketts would have liked him to be her father for two reasons — one that he would meet her and another that he would meet him there. The Wards lived in a- large, many-gabled house looking north from a large plot of ground. Brocketts- was ushered into the parlor by Bessie herself ! Bishop Ward was her father, as Brocketts afterwards found out. A small crowd of happy young people laughed and chatted in the room where Brocketts entered, most of whom he had met already. Ray Silliman was not there. "You're late, Brocketts," Dudley said, as Bessie presented the new-comer to the other guests. "Couldn't help it, Dudley," Brocketts explained. "You see I have to get my own supper myself and wash the dishes afterwards !" This was not the true explanation, though. The fact is, he had been embarrassed by the probability that, after all, this might be Bessie's home to which he was going, and, yielding to his fear rather than to his desires, he had delayed his coming as long as he decently could. And even then he had passed the place several times to quiet his nerves. "You'll have to get married, Brocketts," cried blunt Dave Bradley, a young fellow so plump you could hardly see his eyes. "Father says every boy ought to be married by the time he's twenty." "Then I'm like you in that. I've got about three years grace left me," Brocketts responded, though not without the color rising to his forehead and cheeks. "Besides, there are three necessary items lacking in my case." He paused. "What're they?" queried several voices. "A house, a girl, and something to keep her with." He did

THE OPEN ROAD. 931 not look at anybody in particular as he said this, out of sheer embarrassment. "You've got a good job?" Dudley asked. "Yes." "And rising?" put in Dave. "Trying to," Brocketts said. "Well, then" — this from the plump boy — "the furniture man told me the other day that if you'd furnish the girl he'd furnish the house ! So there's only one thing you lack." This was followed by a burst of laughter and a good-natured objection from the girls at being enumerated under the headings "items" and "things." The introductions and the handshakings over, games were played. These may Be passed by, however, to give way to more important considerations. One of these proved to be sandwiched between "spinning the plate" and "post-office" — two games very common with young persons of those days. "I say, have you heard the news?" This was from the ever voluble Dave. Some of the girls, divining what he was about to say, protested that Bessie would not wish to hear it. This, of course, made those who had not heard it as curious about the matter as Eve was over the forbidden fruit. So there were cries of "No; don't tell it!" and cries of "Let's have it!" Dave looked at Bessie. "Oh, go ahead for all of me," she laughed. "I don't care a fig!" "It's about Ray Silliman," Dave began, commencing at the end as do all the scandalous news items in the modern daily. '"I Ie tried to commit suicide!" This was met by a merry shout from the crowd. "Suicide !" exclaimed those who had not heard the tale. "Go on, go on — tell us about it." Dave, the glib of tongue, wished nothing better than to be the center of attraction, the observed of all observers, with a dozen pairs of eyes watching every movement of his lips. "Well," he went on, "it was this way. Ray and I were chums, you know."

932 IMPROVEMENT ERA. What everybody knew was that Ray and Dave were not chums. But no one contradicted him, and so he continued. "And one night we were going home together, when he stopped all at once and said, 'Dave, did you ever commit suicide ?' " 'Sure !' said I — 'twice. But it ain't the thing it's cracked up to be ! What d'ye want to know for ?' " 'Don't want to know — that ain't what I mean. I mean did you ever drink laudanum?' " 'Not since I got to be a man,' I said. "'Aw! shut up, you chump,' he said; 'I ain't joking. I'm going to drink this laudanum.' "Just then, what d'ye think he did ? He pulled out a half-pint bottle with some dark stuff in it — nearly a bottle full. It was labelled laudanum, sure enough. " 'What's the matter, Ray ?' I asked. " 'I'm going to kill myself,' he answered. 'I'm going to drink every drop of this.' " 'I know,' I said, 'you told me that before. But what I want to know Is why you're going to kill yourself — what's the trouble ?" "He wouldn't tell me for a long time. I'd noticed that he was gloomy. He's usually jolly, you know. After a while he told me. " 'Dad's getting stingy with me,' he said, 'and I can't stand it any longer. Last night I was to take my girl to the theater. Dad wouldn't give me any money, though. So I couldn't take her. I'm getting tired of it!" "Why don't you work?" said I. " 'What ! me work !' Ray fired back at me. 'Not on your life. I'm not going to make my hands big and hard, not me. I'm not that sort. Besides, if I did get a job, it'ud be packing spuds out of the cellar, very likely, and I couldn't stand that. Dad's got money enough, I guess. He could spare me a couple of dollars a day and not miss it. He'll be sorry for it, you see !' " Everybody laughed at this. "And did he drink the laudanum?" some one asked. "That's in the second chapter, which I'm coming to," responded Dave. "Ray and I parted then. Of course, I didn't see what happened, but I know, just the same. He drank some of the laudanum — not all of it, just enough to upset his stomach. (to be continued)