Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, April 30, 1913, Page 7

= His Rise to | Power : By Henry Russell Miller Wrotontostostestontondontontentontetostentostoetontenteetosdesdestestentes “Greene went to the door. opened it and beckoned to the reporters. They filed into the parlor promptly. Murchell turned to them. “Gentlemen, I want to dictate a state- ment.” Notebooks were fiashed forth and pencils poised. But Murchell did not continue: and the reporters did not look at him. Their*eyes were riveted on Sherrod. upon whose face had fallen a look of unbelieving wonderment. The “Make good your bluff if you dare.” ‘wonderment became fear. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. He shook visibly. The defiant attitude sud- denly dissolved. “Perhaps,” said Murchell grimly, “Mr. Sherrod would prefer to make this statement himself.” There was an instant of painful si- Jence. Sherrod’s mouth worked as though he were trying to speak. But no sound fell. Parrott came to his relief. “Gentle- men,” he said solemnly, “Mr. Sherrod has withdrawn his candidacy.” “In favor of Dunmeade,” mented Greene. The reporters looked inquiringly at Senator Murchell. He nodded. “That's the statement.” Without a single backward glance he went out of the room. Greene and the reporters followed him, leaving Sherrod and Parrott alone to get what comfort they could out of their plight and to settle certain accounts, a scene upon which we considerately draw the curtain. . . . * * * * A man around whom a battle had been fought leaned on a rail fence, gazing off at the undulating line where the azure of sky curved down to meet the green of hills. He had been there most of the afternoon, in flight from the kindly but obtrusive interest of his neighbors. A state was acclaiming him, and he was not uplifted. He had read the news of the morning and knew that at that very hour several hundred of his fellow citizens in convention assem- bled were naming him to a high honor, and he took no joy in it. For the ac- clamation was but the schooled chorus of a tractable stage mob. And the victory was not for him, nor for the principle he had served, but for a man whom he had condemned, for an in- stitution he believed to be wrong. He was big enough—or small enough if you prefer—to resent being catapulted into power by the strength of another's arm, and he was honest enough to hate the means he knew must have been used. He could not exult. The advancement had come too tate. The fiery eagerness of youth was gone. He longed not for a sword, but for peace—the peace of the hills, of the growing things, of the commonplace from which once he had fied. A sound, strange for that hour and place, slowly pierced his abstraction. He raised his head, startled, listening. It was the courthouse bell. Another joined in. and another, until all the bells of the town were ringing. The fron choral was for him! He walked slowly on. As he rounded the foot of the knob, he heard another sound rising to min- gle with the clamor of the bells— cheering voices. He had a strong de- sire to turn back and flee to some hid- ing place in the hills. but he forced himself to march forward. At the Sorthernmost edge of the towm be Serceived a rapidly limping figure. It was Jeremy Applegate. “Heard you came out this way.” Jeremy gasped, “an’ I wanted to be first to tell you. Nominated by accla- mation at 3:45 this afternoon! 1 hain’t felt so good since Appomattox.” John, beholding the tears shining in honest Jeremy’s eyes, felt the moisture rise to his own. His heart leaped -Aharply; it was something to receive, supple- even if one has not earned, such loyalty! Down Main street came a team drawing a double seated spring wagon. From the wagon descended a silent (trio whose handclasp eloquently told what awkward lips could not phrase. “Druv into town to git the news of the convention,” ’Ri explained. “They said ye’d gone out the pike, so we |druv out to fetch ye in. They're wait- |’ for ye, consider’ble excited.” ¢ | “They’ve found out,” said Dan Cris- well dryly, ‘all at oncet that ye’re a ‘great man.” which caused Cranshawe and Criswe!! | to laugh. | “Git in”’ commanded iright along, Jeremy.” | They all climbed into the wagon, | John with lips compressed as if he |faced an ordeal. And indeed he did. |"Ri was quick to perceive what Jeremy lin the hysteria of his joy had over- *Ri. “Come looked. His great, hairy hand fell on | | John’s knee in a tight grip. “I want to say something while I got | the chancet. I guess there’s more to | this than appears to be. But I have | faith in ye, John Dunmeade. I have ‘faith that ye'll govern this state in | the fear of God and the love of your fellow men.” “Whatever ye do,” Sykes, “I'll believe that.” : | “An’ so long as we got faith in ye |ye needn’t lose faith in yourself,” Cris- | well concluded. | John did not answer. speaking just then and later when his | townsfolk acclaimed him. At home took place a wonder. Judge | Dunmeade, almost forgetting the judi- cial dignity. slapped John on the back | and exclaimed: “My son, this is a hap- |py hour. I always knew you would } make your mark.” At which Miss Roberta sniffed. But | when she tried to convey her felicita- tions her tongue refused the unaccus- tomed office, and she broke away to prepare a supper that should do justice to the occasion. That evening Benton county made | holiday, with torches and bonfires and fireworks. John made a speech at his home—not much of a speech, it is true. | but his audience was not hypercritical. It lasted just three minutes. Then the band began to play “America.” For a little a deep hush fell. Then some one —later identified as a one legged, hys- terically happy old soldier—began to sing in a cracked, quavering voice. Something that passed beyond mere jubilation stirred. With one accord the crowd lifted up its voice and sang. “My country, ’tis of thee’— The solemn, stately measures died away. A young woman under a tree at the edge of the crowd discovered un- ashamed tears coursing down her cheeks. A last cheer was given, and the famous celebration passed into history. At his window John Dunmeade look- ed with troubled eyes up into the si- lent, starry night. It was ungenerous perhaps, but he could not help thinking | of the lean years of defeat and discour- | agement. And he wondered. Was the | bymn stil] ringing in his ears the voice | of an abiding passion—or hysteria? supplemented CHAPTER XXI. The Price. HE next day John’s office was besieged by a stream of neighbors, calling with a new =) born diffidence to say in per- son what they had said in mass the | evening before. No one doubted that | he would receive an enormous major- | ity. It was not until the middle of the afternoon that Haig found him alone. “Well, Cato,” he grinned, “they tell me they’re a little exercised down Car- thage way.” | Jobn smiled faintly. “Not much, I suspect. I’ve been thinking of Cato. I’m not even a relative. Poor Jerry Brent!” “Great guns! You can think of him? Guess you haven’t read his interview.” “Yes, I have.” | They alluded to Brent’s comment on | the convention, in which he made nu- merous sarcastic references to the “lofty souled uplifter who had sold out to the gang for an office.” “It’s the cry of a bitterly disappoint- ed man. Brent's chance of a lifetime is gone. He knows he can’t beat you, and he’s sore. I wouldn’t mind it.” “I don’t. I’m sorry for him. He could have beaten Sherrod, I really believe.” “Look bere, old man! I think I un- derstand how you’re feeling over this. You’re not very happy because you think it isn’t your victory—that you have it only by blackmailing a man you dislike”’— “I don’t dislike Murchell—person- ally.” “At least you don’t approve of him politically. Down at the bottom of your heart you're a little peevish because a bit of trickery has got what your the- ory of fighting wouldn’t win. And you feel that in sacrificing, for merely per- sonal considerations, what you conceive to be a duty to the general scheme of ithings you have been weak. Well, you're right. You have been weak. And I’m glad of it. It will help you to understand that no cold, abstract ideal of duty that ignores the primitive self- ish instincts in men can attract, much less impel, them. The truly good in- spires no sympathy. The point of this matter is, out of your weakness has come nothing but good. The bank will eventually become a sound insti- tution, and you—I suppose you'll ad- mit that you'll make a better governor than Sherrod or Brent?” “I hope so. But that has come about only through an accident over which I have had no control.” “Remember another thing,” Haig continued. “Three weeks ago this dounty cast you aside. Now it is yell- “*Low I damned the Amurrican peo- | ple a mite too soon,” confessed Sykes. | He was past | | it Ing its fool bead off for you. The American people worship the great | god Success. Keep successful. You've been promoted from a lofty souled uplifter to a practical politician for the glory of God. Accept the promotion.” |He was relieved to note that John could laugh. “And here,” he grinned, “endeth the reading of my last lesson. It’s one thing to share my vast store of wisdom with John Dunmeade, the | visionary reformer, and quite another to lecture the next governor. Funny , | thing what a difference a prospective | | office makes in one’s attitude toward | a man.” John smiled absently. He was think- | | ing. | faig.” he said abruptly, “I sup- | |pose I’m an obstinate prig. But, hon- | jestly, I'd give all I hope to possess to | be able to answer you. If only they'd | |renominated me as district attorney! |Yda earned that. Or if I could believe ' that the present hullabaloo were not | {artificially manufactured”— Even while he spoke footsteps sound- ‘ed in the outer office, and there was a ‘knock. John opened the door to admit | —Murehell. “Good afternoon!” was the latter's ‘unsmiling greeting. “Won't you come in and sit down?” Murchell accepted the invitation. | ‘There was a moment of uncertainty. | Then Haig reached for his hat. 1 “You needn't go on my account.” | |Murchell answered the move. “In | fact, I’d like you to stay.” Haig resumed his seat. He and John | kept the silence of surprise. But the senator recognized: no occa- | |sion for constraint. “JT see.” he said, glancing around, |“you keep the old office just the same. |L remember when your grandfather | built it. He was a man who accom- | plished things.” | “And I am not. Is that your point?” | “Have you the right to be bitter?” Murchell asked quietly. “When a man jstill young has in six years so im- pressed himself and his ideals on 7,- 900,000 people that they demand him i for governor, and demand with an en- | thusiasm I bave rarely seen”— i “Manufactured by you!” “Stimulated,” Murchell corrected briefly and continued. “And through | him are beginning to realize, even vaguely, their political responsibility, | he has something to his credit, I think. A good many men who think well of themselves reach old age without ac- complishing so much. There are two ways of serving a reform. One is as the preacher, the dreamer. He is use- ful because he points out the way we shall go. The other is as the construc- tive leader, the man who takes the forces he finds ready to hand and uses their power to change conditions as the people are prepared for change. “You,” he turned to John, “have got to decide now which you will be. You are going to hold a great office. Pub- lie office—I think you’ve found this out already—isn’t as simple as it seems to those who haven't held it. The man who would fil] it with unfailing wis- dom and justice, with exact honesty— and still be useful—must be as stern and unyielding as the forces of nature, and as strong.” “and I am not that.” |terness was lacking now. “No man is,” Murchell said gently. “T’ve got you the nomination through methods you won’t consider clean. I’ve made promises you won’t like, but that you must keep, or we'll both be de- stroyed politically.” Without excusing or concealing a single maneuver he narrated the story of the campaign and the convention. The shuffling of feet in the outer }room gave John the excuse to leave. He was heard dismissing the visitor. |But many minutes flew by before he returned. It was little enough time for what he had to decide. A marvel had been wrought. To Murchell had been given a new pur- pose. But Murchell. the workman, could never change; he was too old. His lack of respect for the people and | Popular impulse, the habit of judging means by the end, fixed through a lifetime, would persist. And he was the stronger man, his the greater gen- ius. The instinct for mastery must be served. Who joined him did so as a follower, to be dominated by the leader's ideal and philosophy. “If only I could answer him!” John eried within himself. But his experience, silencing inspira- tion, had not taught him that answer. There was but one way for him to decide. The trap of circumstance, sprung by his own weakness, held him fast. Having accepted advancement at the hands of that which he believed to be wrong, he might no longer open- ly fight against it. As an enemy to the machine, whose beneficiary he had become, he would be discredited, un- convincing. His only hope for useful- ness lay in the proffered alliance, in Murchell’s new purpose. For a little Haig sat in the unwonted silence of embarrassment. Then he said abruptly: “Senator Murchell, I’d like to apolo- gize if you will let me.” “For telling the truth? It isn’t nec- essary.” “No, for. believing my impertinent, theatric intervention responsible for your action.” “You don’t believe that now?” “I do not. And”— Haig hesitated in the masculine awkwardness before sentiment. “And I know Dunmeade can trust your offer.” Soon John returned. He held out his hand to William Murchell. “T haven't the right to refuse.” He was no longer a voice. He had passed from the wilderness to the haunts of men, where action, not preachments—achievements, not proph- ecy—are the currency of life. ‘Was he weak, the theory of life and But the bit- | ing sunshine. growth he-accepted wrong? To this | ing at the haa day John Dunmeade often asks the question. Sometimes he doubts. But then, looking back over what has been done and foreseeing a fuller triumph, he puts away the question. For the compact, that day struck, held. Under Murchell’s tutelage be learned to com- promise, to substitute craft and in- trigue for the honorable. open methods he loved. But he has never lost sight of his purpose and, though there have been halts and detours and even re- treats, the general direction has been forward. When his time came William | Murchell died, not greatly honored by a cynical world that looked for no good thing from Nazareth, but content in the belief that the forces by him set in motion would in the end undo his evil. As for Dunmeade, he is still a compromiser, but still fighting, an able | lieutenant in a new movement whose end is not yet. He is glad to believe that upon his foundation other men shall be able to build with clean hands. . * * * * * * And he found one source of happi- ness over which no cloud has hovered. When Murchel] and Haig left him that afternoon, to escape kindly in- truders he went out into the country. He walked for two miles or more and then, turning. went swiftly homeward. But as he skirted the foot of the knob he was brought to an abrupt halt. For there, tethered to a bush, stood a horse that he recognized—Cru- sader, less fiery than of yore, but sleek as ever and with many a fast gallop left in his sturdy muscles. For a moment John looked, hesitant, | at the path up which she doubtless had | climbed. Then in sudden resolution he went up. She was standing by the big bowlder \looking away at the hills that rose. rank upon rank, unti! the last, become mountains, were lost in the bine haze. But he saw not the hills, only her, the | strong, supple figure lined against the sky, her hair red gold under the slant- He caught his breath at sight of her, sense of all else ob- literated. She seemed to feel his nearness and turned. For an instant, without greet- | ing, they looked at each other, these two whose romance was almost as old as life itself. But to them it was unique, all their own. To him the love had been one ardor that had not burned out in the years of failure. To her it had been a growing thing that could not be killed, reaching out its tendrils until it possessed her wholly, casting out vanity and fear, making He Saw Not the Hills, Only Her. her his through weakness and strength, im victory and defeat. Shaken, they looked away quickly; on the face of each had been written what the other most desired to see. She waited for him to speak, but the tongue that had held thousands silent under its spell stubbornly refused to be eloquent at this supreme moment. “I saw Crusader,” he said lamely, “and I came up.” 2 “Obviously!” She laughed nervous- ly. “I came up here because it is the highest point in the county; but. of course, you know that, and you can see so far. It gives one a faint idea of the immensity of things and of one’s own insignificance. It is very good for the soul, I assure you. I needed it, feeling so important because I had been working”— “Working!” “Does the notion seem so absurd?” She tossed her head girlishly. “I think it fine. I didn’t know time could pass 80 quickly and happily. Only my task was very simple and unimportant, I fear, helping father straighten out some of his papers. This morning,_ you know, he turned the bank over to the new cashier, and tomorrow he be- comes manager of the coal company. Our affairs are all settled. The ridge house is sold and next week we move into the old one. We are to live here always. It seems like coming home. “See!” she went on breathlessly, as though to hold back the flood of words that she knew was gathering on his lips. She held up a hand, two pink fingertips of which were sadly ink stained. “My badge of honor! It isn’t very tidy, is it? But then I had to hurry into my riding things. We work- ers haven't time to make elaborate toilets—you aren't listening!” “Katherine!” y And she who, unasked. had twice dared to avow her love now trembled violently before that of which she was not afraid. While she was look- raised by words of his own. But his coming had banished that. She held her eyes bravely to his. “That Sunday I said you couldn't love a man who had been weak. even for your sage. It isn't true, is it?” His voice was hoarse with anxiety. “Are you sure you want me in spite’ — * “In spite of everything I want yo above all things else.” “Ab! no. It can't—it mustn’t—be that. You are not your own. And I can be content with much less than first place’— He would have taken her in his arms, but she held him off. even while quivering with the longing to be caught, as once before he had held her, in a rough, close embrace. “Are you sure I'd not be a drag, a continual reminder of something you'd rather forget? And that I could help you? I—I’d have to help’— “Once I wanted you—now I need you. I have just been asking, have I gone down hill? I do not know. But if I have, I need you who can under- stand”’— Then she knew for a certainty that the doubt was gone forever. With love’s keen perception she saw that already from him had gone a little of that fine beauty and courage of man- hood which had been before her during the years of separation, but which the dreamer must lose to become a “prac- tical man.” But her love rose strong- est when the need of it was greatest. In quick desire to shield his loss from him she stretched forth her hands to meet his. “Ah! I will always understand. 1 do not believe you have gone down. But—if you have—let us go back up hill—together!” THE END. SYNOPSIS Senator Murchell, leader of the state machine, and Sheehan, local boss of New Chelsea, offer the nomination for district attorney to John Dunmeade. Dunmeade is independent in his political ideas. Dunmeade will accept the nomination. His father, a partisan judge, congratu- jJates him. His Aunt Roberta urges John to call on Katherine Hampden, daughter of a capitalist. Katherine Hampden is a worshiper of success. She and John are friends. Jere- my Applegate, a political dependent, cam- paigns for John and the state ticket. In New Chelsea lives Warren Blake, a model young bank cashier, connected with Hampden in “high finance.” They try without success for John’s aid. The rottenness of politics in his state and party as revealed in his campaign dis- gusts John. He calls upon Katherine. Katherine’s peril in a runaway reveals to her and John their unspoken love. John publicly “turns down” the machine of his party. John will not compromise with his con- science even for the sake of winning Katherine, and the two part. The course of his son is disapproved by Judge Dunmeade. John is elected and my Sheehan on trial for political corrup- nD. Sheehan is convicted and flees. John meets Haig, a novelist, who is introduced to him by Warren Blake. Haig and John visit the Hampdens. Blake proposes to Katherine and is re- jected. He praises John to her. Murchell has a visitor. The visitor is Sackett, head of the At- lantic railroad, trying to keep the Mich- igan out of the Steel City. He wants Murchell to retire. The latter cannot in- ; duce John to stop his attacks on the ma- chine. John and Katherine meet. She still thinks John a follower of im- Possible ideals. He loses in his fight for cleanliness in state politics and falls ill. Murchell offers financial aid to the Dun- meades. John recovers and continues his fight. aided by Haig. In the Steel City he meets Katherine, who is courted by Gregg, a financially successful man. Murchell loses control of the machine to Sherrod and retires nominally from poli- tics. Sherrod gets drunk, and a messen- ger is sent to Murchell for aid. are there with Murchell and when Blake shoots himself. save the bank. Katherine appeals to Dunmeade for clem- ency for her father. Haig suggests te Murchell the political expediency of nom- inating John for governor to save the state for the party. Before the convention Murchell comes out for John, He is opposed by Sherrod and his followers, and Murchell threatens to tell the convention about Sherrod’s em- bezzlement. ff Sherrod weakens, and the nomination goes to John. Haig advises his friend to adopt practical measures if he wishes to realize his ideals. John meets Katherine on a hill where he met her long before. She will stand by his side in his fight for righteousness. Notice of Mortgage Foreclosure Sale. Notice is hereby given that default has occurred in the performance of the terms and conditions of a certain real estate mortgage whereby the same have become operative, which mortgage was made, executed and delivered by John Muzzy and Lena Muzzy, his wife, as mortgagors, to First State Bank of Grand Rapids, as mortgagee, is dat- ed the 17th day of January, 1910, was filed for record in the office of the register of deeds of Itasca county, Minnesota, on the 2th day of January 1910, at 4 o’clock p. m., and was duly recorded therein in book J of Mort- gages at page 600, and which said mortgage was duly assigned by sai@ First State Bank of Grand Rapids, a corporation, to Mrs. Fannie Murray by instrument of assignment dated the 10th day of May, 1911, filed for record in the loffice of the said register of deeds om the 19th day of May, 1911, at 5 o'clock P. m., and recorded therein in book W of mortgages @t page 220; that the amount due on said mortgage at the date of this notice is the sum of one thousand five and 86-100 dollars, being the amount secured by said mortgage, seven hundred fifty-eight and 26-100 doliars and interest from the date thereof at the rate of ten per cent per annum; that a description of the mort- gaged premises as described in said mortgage is as follows: Lots number seven and eight and the one and one half story frame building on lot number eight in block ten in Townsite of Fee- ley as per plat now on record in the Office of the register of deeds of Itas- ca county; that on Saturday, the 7th day of June, 1913, at 10 o’clock a. m., at the sheriff's office in the county court house building in the village of Grand Rapids, in said Itasca county, the assignee of mortgagee, by the sheriff of said county, will Sell said premises and all thereof at public vendue to the high- est bidder for cash to satisfy the amoun due on said mortgage indebtedness and the costs and expenses of sale, including an attorney's fee of,fifty dollars stipulate? in said mortgage to be paid on the foreclosure thereof, and taxes, if any, on said mortgaged premises. Dated April 21, 1913. { MRS FANNIE MURRAY, Assignee of Mortgagee. Thwing & Rossman, Attorneys for as- signee of mortgagee, Grand Rapids, Min- nesota, H-R April 23-30 May 7-14-21 ana 28. April, Ma is the time for || for Budding.* Nursery Stock, || Plants, Garden Spring Bulbs, || Settings, Flow- Seeds... 2 || ers of all kinds Always Buy the Right Kind—Our Kind DULUTH FLORAL CO. Cut Flowers, Funeral Decorations Notice of Assessment of Survey Notice is hereby given that the surveyof Section 36, Township 55, Range 25, has been completed, and a plat of said survey filed in the office of the Regis- ter of Deeds in and for the County of Itasca, wherein said lands are situate, that the expense of said survey has been Board of County Commissioners of said affected, as follows, to-wit: Name of Owner Subdivision A. W. Sisler, NE% of NE% less R. W. John G. Fraser .. NW% of NE% Seymore Washburn. -SW% of NE% Seymore Washburn ....SE% of NE% W. L. Gibson NE% of NW% W. L. Gibson . W% of NW% W. L. Gibson SW% of NW% W. L. Gibson Fred Hilke . NB% of SW% Fred Hilke NW% of W% Fred Hilke .......0sseceeseeeeeee Lot 1 Fred Hilke .. ‘SE% of SW% W. L. Gibson .NE% of SE% Fred Hilke . NW% of SB% Fred Hilke SW% of SEY Seymore Washburn -SEM of SEX Total .... eee assessed and apportioned by the county to the several tracts of land, Amount Section Township Range Assessed 36 55 25 14 27 36 55 26 14 28 36 65 es 14 28 36 55 25 14 28 36 55 25 14 27 36 55 25 14 27 36 65 26 14 27 36 65 25, 14 27 36 55 25 14 27 36 55 25 14 27 36 55 25 14 27 36 55 25 14 27 36 55 26 14 27 36 55 25 14 27 36 55 2B 14 27 36 55 25 14 2T And that said board will meet at the Court House in ‘the Village of Grand Ra— pids, on the Mth day of May, 1913, to correct and confirm said assessment. By order of the Board of County Commissioners of Itasca county, Minnesota. Dated this 28th day of April, 1913 April 30 M. A. SPANG, County Auditor, Notice of Assessment of Survey Notice is hereby given that the survey has been completed, and a pt of said of Section 24, Township 55, Range 27, suryey filed in the office of the Regis- ter of Deeds in and for the County of Itasca, wherein said lands are situate, that the expense of said survey has been assessed and apportioned by the Board of County Commissioners of said county to the several tracts of land affected, as follows, to-wit: Name of Owner William W. Fletcher . E. N. Remer . E.°N. Remer - E N Remer . E. N. Remer . Owen Skelly et al. . Owen Skelly et al . J. B. Chatterton .. Subdivision Amount Section Township Range Assessed 24 55 7 17 2 24 55 27 17 2 24 55 27 17 20 24 55 27 17 2 24 65 Pg 17 2 24 55 27 17 20 24 55 27 17 20 24 55 27 17:19 tt bs 2 dretine gs aaeeldles We $164 7% Grand Rapids, on the 10th day of May, 1913, to correct and confirm said assessment. By order of the Board of County Commissioners of Itasca county, Minnesota. Dated thie 28th day of April, 1913. April 30. M. A. SPANG,