The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 17, 1905, Page 10

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. by Samuel J. Tucker. found 653 My—— street to be a looking three-story brick and stone house respectablé though by no means fashionable rict The snow swirled angrily around him . stood waiting, after having pushed the bell s not thinking about the storm which urs before and was raging with bitter he weather, indeed, that for the past had been assuring herself that he A dozen times she had gone to the win- aying to herself: ep him away. How foolish I was to yself into this kind of an affair. I'll never an- ther personal as long as I live.” t in her modestly furnished room lay a the following advertisement: inger in the city, would like to lady who is also unacquainted and lonely 1ling to take dinner with him on arn a few hours of her compan- ons strictly honorable. Address ‘Lone- an exchange of notes on the stibject, derstanding that she was to have the declining the dinner if she desired to do so ranger preseated himself, Miss Dane had given ress. t gave an unruly bound when the landlady below that there was some one to see Miss ) for a moment, clutching the doorknob and then, with a thousand wild fancies in her downstairs, ed the parlor Stanton drew a long glad He had feared that he might find her to t and had himself been rather busy regretting ad followed up his absurd impu minvtes later, when they were in their car- ; ‘through the storm, the girl won- ken advantage of her privilege agreement, but it was vather late then etting her rashness. The place to which her, although a fashionable one, had few owing to the severity of the weather. t were able to have a table to them- zy corner where a wood fire blazed com- melike fireplac moving her gloves and gazing into Stanton experienced a feeling of satisfaction had not dared to hope might come from his young, she had the air of one who e was tastefully dressed, and she looking at. He had given the sat ‘half leaning upon the table, when she turned suddenly and their side had dome it. At all events her cheeks ifuily reddened and her lashes went down im- ave neglected,” he said, “to thank you for your s in not taking advantage of the clause in our ment which gave you the privilege of declining, when you saw me, to keep the engagement. Let me @ so now both gratified and ered.” t have had the heart,” she replied, “to send fter you had braved such a storm as th s sorry she said that and he tell to wondering, she had turned again toward the fire, whether she would have accepted his hospitality if the had been nt he waiter returned with the oysters and, being a person who appeared to possess intelligence and tact un- to his class, he discreetly retired to the other room after properly performing his office af “In order that you may be fully informed as to who 1 ~ said ton, “I have brought one of my business He handed it over to her and she read, “Addison, White, Davis & Stanton, attorneys-at-law,” together with ddress another city. ecently been made a member of the firm,” ‘and am here on a secret mission which I ke it necessary for me to remain a month perhaps two or three. So you see why I wag forced to take unusual proceedings to avoid spending Christmas alone.” She handed the card back to him and he noticed ‘that net eating. e, Miss Dane.” he said, “I expect you to do jus- tice to the dinner I'm providing. That, I shall insist, is part of the contract.” She shook her head and looked at the crackling log. “It’s toa late,” he urged, “to zo back on your agroe- ow. I don’t ask pou to tell me anything about If if you are not inclined to do so. You will re- er t my proposition was to furnish the dinner in for the privilege of enjoying a few hours of your o There was no stipulation concerning an nfidences. she answered, “but I shouldn’t have come. order anything else for me, and when you d I must insist on being taken home at once.” down his fork and leaned forward, regarding > of her arms lay on the table. Her d white, and he was tempted to lay it, but refrained. wish,” he asked, “to spofl what I thought a 0 was going to be my merriest Christmas?” Iready helped to make this my most fool- he answered. “Please g0 on eating. had entered and taken a table not far to treat me this way,” Stanton urged, we have quarreled. Come. I shall stion out yourself, and If you insist 1e immedlately after dinner I will take here in the carriage if you prefer not e g0 with you. Only eat’ with me. Let us together. Let us for an hour be friends. v of universal good will?" 3 looked frankly into his eyes. A little segan at length to play around her lips and she “Very well, then, the compact is renewed until the cof- anes n was by this time convinced that she was one beautiful girls he had ever -seen, Her fea- to improve the more he studiel them and ally began to laugh at his little witticisms and reely herself concerning plays that she had seen »oks that s had read he wondered what there be for him to look forward to wwhen they had The waiter was a jewel He took off dishes and brought others on and thgn went away and permitted the: » get through the courses as slowly as they pleased. > blazed cheerily, a few more people came in, but had their pleasant corner to themselves and Dane offered to prepare the salad dressing gladly ordered the things she required. As he sat when M Stapton ~© oo . -‘.-‘ 0O XX °h %i:f;{f?z [ - - B - - - o YA o accoo Said, “You May Take Me Home.”’ watching her mix the various ingredients she presented by far the loveliest picture of domesticity that he had ever seen. She must have known when she looked at him that his happiness was worth many times what the dinner was costing him, and it may have been for that reason that she did not insist on hastening the end of the feast, though the afternoon was. waning. They had come to the coffee, when she looked across the table at him and said “Poor man.” 2 “It's good of you,” he replied, “to feel sorry for me. I shall be lonelier than ever after this is all over.” “I was thinking of the cigar you wil have to miss.” ‘Why must T miss it? I can smoke here, and you will fer me, won't you?” “There was no provision In the contract to cover that point. was thére?” “No, I forgot that. It was a stupid oversight. But you might be lenient and let me have'it any way. This is Christmas. Be charitable.” When the walter had cleared the table and Stanton had stretched his legs toward the fire after lighting one of Havana's most fragrant products, the charitable Miss Dane sat and watched him blow out rings of smoke and seemed to forget that she was glad her foolish adventure was about ended. Neither had spoken for a long time. The gray line had crept slowly along from the end of Stanton's cigar until it had almost reached the -middle, when he came out of his reverie to discover that she was looking at him rather wistfully. She had been thinking of her own con- dition—wondering whether she was not wasting her time in the study she had undertaken, wondering whether 1t would not have been better if she had saved her money and remalined at home, perhaps some day to become the commonplace wife of some commonplace man, in the iittle city from which she had so hopefully gone forth, . and wondcring with something like an adhe in her breast if success would ever be worth the loneliness and self-de- nial that were before her. A feeling that was not unpleasaht was awakened within Holmes Stanton as he studied her expression®” He flickeé the ash from his cigar into the fireplace and with- out realizing what he di@ looked at his watch. 5 “Whenever you.are ready,” she said, “you may take me home.” “I shall not be ready for a long, long time” he re- plied. “A happy thought has just come to me. There is a play at a theater near here that I want to see. May I got two tickets for to-night? Wait—don't say no until Ive told you something about it. I read the plot this merning while waiting to go to you. A man and a wo- man who have never seen or heard of each other meet in Paris, where she is studying music, and he, tor cer- tain reasons, is living incognito.. They are both Ameri- cans, both strangers there, and both desperately home- sick.” “And,” she said, whén he stopped to puft at his cigar, “1 suppose she 1s beautiful and he is handsome—and rich —and”— “And they marry? I must not tell you the end of ir You shall see that for yourself to-night.” R She protested that she must go home and that their bargain ended with the dinner, and he being a man who cmm‘m ‘e e had discovered the value or persistence argued and pieaded and beat down her objections, the result being that she finally said: “I will go on one condition—thaty you will promise on veur honor not to ask me to ever see you again or to have any communication with you.” “You drive a hard bargain,” he answered, “but I'll agree to it on condition, to-witaas we lawyers s that I may ask you when you part ight if yvou still wish to heve wour condition forced. you say then that you do 1 will ask no more and ne jother you again.” The play was well acted; theé'lines were poeti there re intense moments in it, but the end was not what W OO DR PRI - A e GRUDGES---HOW CROOILSERRELRN000% HO is there of us who had not at sometime in his life cherished a grudge? It is a bad thing to have in the family, and yet there is an authentle case of two sisters, living under the same roof, attending the same church, partici- pating in some degree in the same society, and yet never speaking dircctly to one another because of some falling- out they had in their youih. I know a rural mail carrier whose work takes him to a certain store three or four times every day, but for years he and the proprietor have not been on speaking terms. They are forced to have certain relations to one another, but they never ex- change a friendly word; and yet both are very respact- able men. Down in the Kentucky and Tennessee high- lands grudges have been carried to the point of becoming a fine art. Parents have bequeathed them -to their chil- dren, Many a Highlander has fallen in his saddle as the sharp crack of a rifle rang out from the bush behind which his long-time foe was concealed. . A grudge differs from a momentary impulse of dis- like in that the former is net so short-lived and often it seems to be rooted in a certain legitimate desire for justice. Men feel that so long as a certain crime goes unpunished, or a certain wrong unrighted, they must cherish the resentment, and wait for the opportune mo- ment to vent their rage. From this point of view a grudge may not be wholly bad when it represeats an instinet for the right ordering of the universe in the visiting of prope? deserts upon miscreants. Yet after all a grudge is a perilous and undesirable ' piece of property, and our business is to prevent them from becoming deep-seated in our hearts. Many a little misunderstanding which might be cleared away in dn instant develops into a grudge because we are too proud to try and set matters right while conditions are still plastic. Your neighbor does something that seems to you a slight or injustice. Instead of brooding over it, or complaining about it to someone else, why not go straight to him and have it out man to man, telling him wherein you feel aggrieved and asking in a kindly way for an explanation? Nine chances out of ten you will get a_ satistactory reply, and in that event you have NG oe0ee Violet Dane had guessed it would be. It turned out the man had a wife—a wife who was wholly unwo of him, but who nevertheless stood between him and one whom nature had fntended for his mate. Between the third and fourth acts Stanton asked the girl bestide him how, in her op'nion, the case of the lovers should end. “Jf the wife would only dle,” she said, “the solution of the problem would be easy. Does she die?” “Né, she refuses to be accommodating. Perhaps she or the man gets a divorce. I shall be sorry If it has to end that way, though.” “Don't you believe in divorces?’ “In a cacc of this kin¢ T suppose one would be jus- tifiable.” ‘It happens that*the man can’t get a divorce apd the woman won't.” For on che drews a long sigh. “Ueaer the circumstances,” went on, “do you the man aai the girl have the right to love each otl govern y tions and keep from have not the rigt “It 1s curiou I have been wondering e B S A ambition fo ful * happiness, p posing to give up tk world for love ar bed d from t sacritice by the man himself, There were tears in Violet Dan eyes as the cur feil, but Stanton was uncertain _ whether they boded good or i1 for his hopes. After they had en- tered their carriage the driver got en- tangled in a block- ade and a long de- lay ensued. The girl leanea far Dback 1n her corner and walited silently, her face hidden in the dark. At length the carriage started forward One of her hands lay outside of her muff,'on her lap. Stanton took it in his own, and was gladdened by a little responsive pressure before she drew it away. “Do you insist onghaving the condition you made put in force?' he asked when the carriage stopped at 653 M— street, “You might call to-morrow evening,” she replied, “and we will talk it over.” He continues to assure her that it was his merriest Christmas. g sa R N S S RN I S SRS SRS SO0 IS 000000000000000000005055%) TO TREAT THEM g “gained” your brother, which Jesus Christ sald was a vely desirable thing to accomplish when one has a fall- ing-out with anybody else. Never neglect the chance to “gain” him, to get a firmer hold on his goodwill And in the rare cases where you cannot forfend the entrance of resentment into your minds, never let it fill the whole horizon of- your thought. Grudges ars like cankers eating into ome's peace, and If you really must have a grudge about your person, put it away not only where others will not see it, but where you yourself will bé only dimly conselous of it. A woman in mature life sald the other day that while she had not learned many lessons from experience, she had come to see that it does not pay to cherish a resentment. It di own happiness toe much. It really isn't q of a person made capable of living in a r petty dislikes and enmitles. And there are ways of ridding one’s self, even of a long-standing grudgé, if one will but go about it vigor- cusly. “If anyone has offended me,” sald a wise once, “I invite him to dinner.” This is the Christian, an at the same time the sensible temper. It marks a h state of spiritual culture when one can do good to pray for them who despitefully use you and persec ‘you. But such are the heights of magnanimity to w we are called. It is not great credit to us if we treat people well, who treat us well, but when in return for unkindness, we give tokens of lasting goodwill and an uwhquenchable purpose not to adopt the tacties used against us, we are rising above low levels of life and glving the best there is in us a chance to express itself. The man who holds onto his grudge as if it con- tained for him the one great object of existznce, who say “I never can forgive So and So, mot to my dyin. day,” forgets that he too is fallible, forgets the many just aggrievances which others may cherish against him and forgets above everything else, the fact that ven- geance belongs to God, and not to man. Who are we that we should venture to usurp functions of the Al- mighty? And in the long run wrongs will be righted in this universe.