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美国悲剧|An American Tragedy

Part 1 第1章|Part 1 Chapter 1

属类： 双语小说 【分类】双语小说 -[作者: 西奥多-德莱塞] 阅读：[16937]
字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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暝色四合的一个夏日夜晚。

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十万居民的美国城市的商业中心区，崇楼高墙，森然耸起……象这样的崇楼高墙，说不定到将来仅仅足资谈助罢了。

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这时相当冷清的大街上，正有一小拨六个人。一个是五十上下。身材矮胖的男子，浓密的头发从他那顶圆形黑呢帽底下旁逸出来。此人长得其貌不扬，随身带着一台沿街传教与卖唱的人常用的手提小风琴。跟他在一起，有一个女人，约莫比他小五岁，个子比他高，体形不如他粗壮，但身子骨结实，精力挺充沛。她的脸容和服饰都很平常，可也不算太丑。她一手搀了一个七岁的男孩，一手拿着一本《圣经》和好几本赞美诗。跟这三人在一起，但各自走在后边的，是一个十五岁的女孩。一个十二岁的男孩和另一个九岁的女孩……他们个个很听话，但是一点儿都不带劲，只不过尾随着罢了。

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天气很热，但是弥散着一丝儿恬适的倦意。

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他们正走在跟另一条峡谷似的街道相交成直角的那条大街上，那儿行人如织，车辆似梭，还有各路电车丁丁当当地响着铃，在摩肩接踵的行人和车辆的急流中向前驰去。不过，这小拨人对此仿佛毫不在意，一心只想从身边擦过的那些争先恐后的车辆和行人中间挨挤过去。

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他们走到了同下一条大街交叉的路口……其实只是两排高大建筑物中间的一条过道……这时已是然无人了。那个男人一放下风琴，女人马上把它打开，支起乐谱架，摆上了一本薄薄的大开本赞美诗。随后，她们那本《圣经》递给那个男人，往后一挪，同他站成一排。十二岁的男孩就把一只小小的轻便折凳放在风琴跟前。那个男人……正是孩子他们的父亲……睁大眼睛，似乎满有信心地往四下里扫了一眼，也不管有没有听众，就开腔说:

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"我们先唱一首赞美诗。凡是愿意颂扬上帝的，就不妨跟我们一块唱。赫思德，劳驾你来弹琴，好吗?

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"年龄最大的女孩，身材相当苗条，但是尚未完全发育，她一直尽量装出漠不关心。泰然自若的样子来。不过一听到这话，她就坐到了轻便折凳上，一面在翻赞美诗，一面弹起琴来。这时她母亲说:

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"我看今晚最好就唱第二十七首:

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……《耶稣之爱抚何等甘美》。"这时，各种不同身分。不同职业。正往家走的行人，发现这小拨人这么仓卒登场了，有的只是迟疑地乜了他们一眼，有的……干脆驻足观看他们究竟在耍什么把戏。那个男人一看这种犹豫不定的态度，显然以为这下子已把行人们的注意力吸引住了(尽管还有点儿举棋不定)，于是就抓紧机会，对他们开讲了，好象他们是特地上这儿来听讲的。

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"得了，我们大家就一块唱第二十七首:

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……《耶稣之爱抚何等甘美》。"那个小姑娘一听这话，就在风琴上开始弹这个乐曲，奏出了一个虽然准确。

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但很微弱的曲调;同时，跟着她相当激越的女高音一块唱的，还有她母亲的女高音和她父亲相当可疑的男中音。其他几个孩子，则从风琴上一小叠书里拿来赞美诗，有气无力地跟着一块哼唱。他们唱诗的时候，在街头那些难以形容。冷眼围看的人们，两眼凝望着……如此微不足道的一家人，竟然当众同声高唱，抗议人世间无处不有的怀疑与冷漠……这样的怪事把他们都给怔住了。有人对弹琴的小姑娘相当柔弱。尚欠丰满的身段发生兴趣或同情;也有人对父亲那副迂拙的寒酸相感兴趣或为之动怜，他那双没精打采的蓝眼睛和那肌肤相当松弛。

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衣着又很差劲的体形，足以说明他早已落泊潦倒了。这一拨人里头，只有母亲身上显露出那么一种魄力和决心，哪怕是盲目或错误的，使她一生交不上好运道，好歹也能保住自己。她同另外几位相比，更多地流露出这么一种信仰坚定的神态，虽然无知，但不知怎的总是令人敬佩。你要是细心观察她，看到她把自己那本赞美诗搁在身边，两眼凝视前方的神态，一定会说:

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"是的，她就是这样的人，不管她有什么样缺点，也许会尽量按照她的信仰去做的。"她的一颦一笑。

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一举一动都说明:

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她对那个明确无误地主宰一切。观照一切的天神是赞不绝口的，她对天神的智慧和仁慈也是坚信不移的。

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"耶稣的爱拯救我的整个身心，上帝的爱指引我的脚步前进，"她就在两旁巍然耸立的崇楼高墙中间，略带鼻音，响亮地歌唱着。

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那个男孩子闲不住地两脚替换站着，两眼俯视着，充其量只是半心半意地在哼唱。他是瘦高个儿，头和脸长得真逗人……白净的肌肤，乌尾的头发……同其他几位相比，他好象特别善于观察，肯定更加敏感……显而易见，他对自己目前处境的确感到恼火，乃至于痛苦。他最感兴趣的，显然是世俗生活，而不是宗教生活，虽然他还没有充分意识到这一点。反正最能正确地说明他此时此刻的心态，不外乎是:

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眼下要他干的这一套，肯定是不合他的心意。他太年轻了，他的心灵对于形形色色的美和享乐确实太敏感了，不过这些东西……也许跟主宰他父母心灵的那个遥远。朦胧的幻想境界，甚至还是格格不入。

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说实话，这个男孩子的家里生活境况，以及他迄至今日在物质上和心灵上的种种遭际，都不能使他相信:

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他父母似乎如此坚信和传播的那一套教义，真的是那么实在，那么有力量。相反，他们的生活……至少是物质生活，好象多少让人发愁。父亲总是到各处……特别是到离这儿不太远。和母亲合办的"传道馆"去……向会众诵经。布道。据他所知，他们还向各种各样对传道感兴趣，或是乐善好施的商人敛钱……看来这些商人对这一类慈善事业居然还很相信。尽管这样，这一家人日子过得老是"紧巴巴"，好衣服从来没有穿过，许多在别人看来似乎平常得很的安乐享受，他们都还没沾过边。可是父母亲还不时在颂扬上帝对他们，乃至于芸芸众生的慈爱和关怀。显然在哪儿出了些毛病吧。这一切眼下他还闹不清楚，可他对母亲还是不由得肃然起敬:

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要知道母亲的那种毅力和热忱，以及她的温柔，对他都富有吸引力。尽管传道工作很忙，家累又很重，她总是尽量显出乐乐呵呵的样子来，或者至少说她还能撑得住，尤其在衣食极端紧缺的时候，她照例用极为坚定有力的语调说:

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"上帝会赐予我们的，"或者说，"上帝会给我们指引出路的。"不过，他和其他孩子们都看得很清楚，尽管他们家里一向亟需上帝垂爱恩赐，上帝却始终没给他们指引出一条看得清清楚楚的出路来。

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今晚，他跟自己的姐妹和弟弟一块走在这条大街上，心里巴不得他们从此再也不用干这玩意儿，或者说至少是他自己最好能不参与。这一类事，人家的孩子压根儿就不干。再说，干这类事，不知怎的好象很寒伧，甚至于低人一等。

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在他被迫走上街头以前，人家的孩子早已不止一次地大声招呼过他，而且还讥笑过他父亲，就是因为他父亲老是在稠人广众之中宣扬他的宗教信仰，或者说是他那坚定不移的宗教信念。那时候他还只有七岁，就因为他父亲每次跟人说话，一开口总要"赞美上帝"，他便听到附近街坊小孩们乱嚷嚷:

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"赞美上帝的老家伙格里菲思来了。"有时候，孩子们还在他背后大声喊道:

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"喂，你这个小不点儿，弹风琴的就是你姐姐吧。她还会弹别的玩意儿?

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""他干吗要到处说什么’

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’’’’赞美上帝，?

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人家压根儿就不说呀。"正是多年来恨不得一切都跟人家一模一样的心态，既捉弄了他的那些孩子们，同时也使他感到苦恼。不管他的父亲也好，还是他的母亲也好，跟人家就是不一样，因为他们俩整日价宗教不离口，到如今终于把宗教当做生意经了。

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这一天晚上，在那车辆如梭。人群杂。高楼耸立的大街上，他觉得真害羞，自己竟从正常的生活氛围里给拖出来，被人嘲弄，丢了丑。那时，一辆辆漂亮的小轿车打从他身边疾驰而去;游手好闲的行人，都在各自寻找(对他来说只好胡乱揣度的)那些乐事去了;成双配对的快活的青年男女，说说笑笑，吵吵闹闹;还有那些"小伢儿"瞪着眼直瞅他……这一切都使他很苦恼，他觉得:

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倘若跟他的生活，或者说得更确切些，跟他们一家人的生活相比，人家的生活就是有点儿不一样，反正要好得多，美得多。

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这时候，大街上游荡不定的人群，在他们周围不断变换，看来也意识到，让这些孩子参予其事，从心理学观点来说，实属大错特错了:

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因为人群中间有一些人相互用胳膊肘轻推，以示不屑一顾;有一些世故较深。态度冷漠的人，扬起眉毛，只是轻蔑地一笑;还有一些人较有同情心，或则阅历较多，却认为犯不着让这些小孩子也登场。

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"他们这拨人，几乎每天晚上，我在这儿总能看到，反正一星期得有两三回吧，"说这话的是一个年轻的店员。他和女友刚见了面，正陪着她上餐厅去。"我估摸，这拨人不外乎以宗教为名，搞什么骗人勾当吧。""那个最大的男小子，可不乐意待在这儿。他觉得怪别扭的，这我一眼就看出了。要是这小子自己不乐意，硬要他出来，那就实在没道理。不管怎么说，这一套玩意儿，反正他是一窍不通。"这些话，是一个年龄四十上下。常在市商业中心区游食的流浪汉，正在向一个貌似温和的过路行人说的。

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"是啊，我看一点儿不错，"那个过路行人一面随声附和说，一面仔细端详这个男孩子与众不同的头和脸。那个男孩子只要一抬起脸来，便流露出忸怩不安的神情来，人们心中自然就会联想到:

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本来侍奉这种含意深奥的神灵圣事，只有年岁较大。善于内省的人最为合适，可现在硬要不懂事的孩子在公开场合出现，那就有点儿不厚道和徒劳无益。

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殊不知实际情况果然如此。

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至于这个家里其他一些人……那最小的男孩子和女孩子，他们年纪太小，说真的根本不懂得眼前这一切是怎么回事，或者说，对他们反正也无所谓。那个弹风琴的大女儿，倒是显得满不在乎，对她本人的出场和歌声所博得的观众青睐却很得意。因为不仅是围观的陌生人，就连她父母也都不止一次地给她鼓气，说她歌声很甜美动人，其实这话说得并不完全正确。要知道她的嗓门儿不见得有那么好。她父母也并不真正懂得音乐。论体质，她苍白。柔弱，也是不过尔尔;心智上更看不出有什么真正潜力或深度。想必她自以为，这是一个绝好场合，让自己出出风头，引起人们一点注意罢了。至于她的父母，他们决心竭尽全力，净化人们心灵，使之超凡脱俗;只要赞美诗一唱完，父亲便开始老调重弹，说什么只要充分得到上帝的怜悯。基督的爱和上帝对罪人的宽恕，罪人就可以摆脱沉重地压在他心头的痛苦，从而得到种种欢乐。

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"在上帝看来，人人都是有罪的，"他说，"除非他们虔心忏悔，除非他们信奉基督，接受基督对他们的爱和宽恕，要不然他们永远感受不到心灵上健全。

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洁净的幸福。啊，我的朋友们!

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基督为你们而生，为你们而死，每天他时时刻刻都同你们走在一起，不论白昼和黑夜，清晨和黄昏，总是在照看你们，赋予你们力量，去克服你们在人世间时刻都有的艰辛和忧患，你们只有对上面这个道理真的大彻大悟了，心中才会感到安宁和满足!

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啊，要小心留神那些围在我们身边的罗网和陷坑!

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幸亏我们知道:

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基督永远与我们同在，劝导我们，帮助我们，激励我们，还给我们包扎伤口，使我们得以身心健全，这是足以告慰大家的!

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啊，那种安宁。满足。舒适和光荣，正是我们诚心祷祝的!

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""阿门，"他的妻子郑重其事地应答了一声。女儿赫思德，全家人管她叫爱思达，深感他们家里人人都需要得到众人尽量多的援助……也跟着她母亲应答了一声。

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最大的男孩子克莱德，还有两个较小的孩子，他们只是两眼瞅着地面，偶尔对他们父母也瞅上一眼，心中暗自思忖:

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他说的这些话，可能句句正确。重要，可是不知怎的总不象生活中其他的一些事那么有意义，那么吸引人。他的这一套……他们听得太多了，在他们这些年轻而热切的心灵看来，他们期望于生活的，显然要比在街头和教堂里传道多得多。

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后来，第二首赞美诗一唱过，格里菲思太太也讲了话，顺便提到了他们在附近一条街上传过道，而且为了宣扬基督教义还作过祈祷，随后唱了第三首赞美诗，散发了一些阐述教会拯救灵魂的小册子，接着，父亲阿萨就把听众们自动捐款一一敛了起来。他们合上小风琴，把轻便折凳叠好交给克莱德，《圣经》

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和赞美诗由格里菲思太太收起来，套上皮带的风琴则挂在老格里菲思肩头上，他们一行人就朝传道馆径直走去了。

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整整这段时间里，克莱德一直在暗自琢磨:

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这个玩意儿他再也不乐意干了。

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他觉得:

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刚才他和他父母都显得很愚蠢，而且不大正常……象他这样被迫卷了进去，要是让他的反感充分表达出来，那他就会说出"低级"这个词儿来;一句话，只要有办法，他再也不愿干这个了。硬是把他拽住不放，对他们究竟有什么好处呢?

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他的生活不应该是这样的。人家的孩子都用不着去充当他的那种角色。他比过去更坚决地思考着要来一次反抗，以后自己就再也用不着象现在这样抛头露面了。姐姐要是乐意，那让她去就得了;反正这一套她是喜欢的。妹妹和弟弟都太小，也许还无所谓。可是他呢……"我觉得，今晚人们的注意力好象要比往常更多一点，"格里菲思一边走，一边对身旁的太太这样说。醉人的夏日夜晚的微风，使他心境为之一爽，因此，他在解释过路行人照例漠不关心的神情时，也就比较包涵。

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"是的，星期四那天，只有十八个人要小册子，可是今儿晚上却有二十七个人。""基督的爱最终必胜，"做父亲的说这些话，既安慰他的太太，也算是聊以自慰。"世俗的欢乐和忧患主宰着许许多多的人，不过，只要他们到了悲痛欲绝的时候，我们现在撒下的这些种子里头，有些就生根发芽了。""这个我相信。正是这种信念，经常使我顶住了，没有倒下去。悲痛和深重的罪孽，终于会让某些人看到自己误入了歧途。"这时他们走进了一条狭窄的小街，刚才他们就是从这小街走出来的。他们从拐角处径直走过十多户人家，就进入一座黄澄澄的木头平房，它那宽大的窗子和大门上两块玻璃，都已漆成灰白色。两个窗子和那双门上几个小方格里横写着:

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"希望之门。非英国国教徒独立传道馆。祈祷时间:

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每星期三。六，晚八时至十时;星期日，十一时。三时。八时。欢迎参加。"在这些字样下面，每个窗子上都有这么一句话:

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"上帝就是爱"，底下还有一行小字:

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"你多久没给母亲写信了?

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"这小拨人一走进那不起眼的黄澄澄大门，影儿就不见了。

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Dusk--of a summer night.

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And the tall walls of the commercial heart of an American city of perhaps 400,000 inhabitants--such walls as intime may linger as a mere fable.

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And up the broad street, now comparatively hushed, a little band of six,--a man of about fifty, short, stout, withbushy hair protruding from under a round black felt hat, a most unimportant- looking person, who carried a small portable organ such as is customarily used by street preachers and singers. And with him a woman perhaps fiveyears his junior, taller, not so broad, but solid of frame and vigorous, very plain in face and dress, and yet nothomely, leading with one hand a small boy of seven and in the other carrying a Bible and several hymn books.

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With these three, but walking independently behind, was a girl of fifteen, a boy of twelve and another girl ofnine, all following obediently, but not too enthusiastically, in the wake of the others.

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It was hot, yet with a sweet languor about it all.

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Crossing at right angles the great thoroughfare on which they walked, was a second canyon-like way, threadedby throngs and vehicles and various lines of cars which clanged their bells and made such progress as they mightamid swiftly moving streams of traffic. Yet the little group seemed unconscious of anything save a set purpose tomake its way between the contending lines of traffic and pedestrians which flowed by them.

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Having reached an intersection this side of the second principal thoroughfare--really just an alley between twotall structures--now quite bare of life of any kind, the man put down the organ, which the woman immediatelyopened, setting up a music rack upon which she placed a wide flat hymn book. Then handing the Bible to theman, she fell back in line with him, while the twelve-year-old boy put down a small camp-stool in front of theorgan. The man--the father, as he chanced to be--looked about him with seeming wide-eyed assurance, andannounced, without appearing to care whether he had any auditors or not:

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"We will first sing a hymn of praise, so that any who may wish to acknowledge the Lord may join us. Will youoblige, Hester?"At this the eldest girl, who until now had attempted to appear as unconscious and unaffected as possible,bestowed her rather slim and as yet undeveloped figure upon the camp chair and turned the leaves of the hymnbook, pumping the organ while her mother observed:

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"I should think it might be nice to sing twenty-seven tonight--’How Sweet the Balm of Jesus’ Love.’"By this time various homeward-bound individuals of diverse grades and walks of life, noticing the small groupdisposing itself in this fashion, hesitated for a moment to eye them askance or paused to ascertain the character oftheir work. This hesitancy, construed by the man apparently to constitute attention, however mobile, was seizedupon by him and he began addressing them as though they were specifically here to hear him.

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"Let us all sing twenty-seven, then--’How Sweet the Balm of Jesus’ Love.’"At this the young girl began to interpret the melody upon the organ, emitting a thin though correct strain, at thesame time joining her rather high soprano with that of her mother, together with the rather dubious baritone ofthe father. The other children piped weakly along, the boy and girl having taken hymn books from the small pilestacked upon the organ. As they sang, this nondescript and indifferent street audience gazed, held by thepeculiarity of such an unimportant-looking family publicly raising its collective voice against the vast skepticismand apathy of life. Some were interested or moved sympathetically by the rather tame and inadequate figure ofthe girl at the organ, others by the impractical and materially inefficient texture of the father, whose weak blueeyes and rather flabby but poorly-clothed figure bespoke more of failure than anything else. Of the group the mother alone stood out as having that force and determination which, however blind or erroneous, makes forself-preservation, if not success in life. She, more than any of the others, stood up with an ignorant, yet somehowrespectable air of conviction. If you had watched her, her hymn book dropped to her side, her glance directedstraight before her into space, you would have said: "Well, here is one who, whatever her defects, probably doeswhat she believes as nearly as possible." A kind of hard, fighting faith in the wisdom and mercy of that definiteoverruling and watchful power which she proclaimed, was written in her every feature and gesture.

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"The love of Jesus saves me whole, The love of God my steps control,"she sang resonantly, if slightly nasally, between the towering walls of the adjacent buildings.

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The boy moved restlessly from one foot to the other, keeping his eyes down, and for the most part only halfsinging. A tall and as yet slight figure, surmounted by an interesting head and face--white skin, dark hair--heseemed more keenly observant and decidedly more sensitive than most of the others--appeared indeed to resentand even to suffer from the position in which he found himself. Plainly pagan rather than religious, life interestedhim, although as yet he was not fully aware of this. All that could be truly said of him now was that there was nodefinite appeal in all this for him. He was too young, his mind much too responsive to phases of beauty andpleasure which had little, if anything, to do with the remote and cloudy romance which swayed the minds of hismother and father.

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Indeed the home life of which this boy found himself a part and the various contacts, material and psychic, whichthus far had been his, did not tend to convince him of the reality and force of all that his mother and fatherseemed so certainly to believe and say. Rather, they seemed more or less troubled in their lives, at leastmaterially. His father was always reading the Bible and speaking in meeting at different places, especially in the"mission," which he and his mother conducted not so far from this corner. At the same time, as he understood it,they collected money from various interested or charitably inclined business men here and there who appeared tobelieve in such philanthropic work. Yet the family was always "hard up," never very well clothed, and deprivedof many comforts and pleasures which seemed common enough to others. And his father and mother wereconstantly proclaiming the love and mercy and care of God for him and for all. Plainly there was somethingwrong somewhere. He could not get it all straight, but still he could not help respecting his mother, a womanwhose force and earnestness, as well as her sweetness, appealed to him. Despite much mission work and familycares, she managed to be fairly cheerful, or at least sustaining, often declaring most emphatically "God willprovide" or "God will show the way," especially in times of too great stress about food or clothes. Yetapparently, in spite of this, as he and all the other children could see, God did not show any very clear way, eventhough there was always an extreme necessity for His favorable intervention in their affairs.

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To-night, walking up the great street with his sisters and brother, he wished that they need not do this any more,or at least that he need not be a part of it. Other boys did not do such things, and besides, somehow it seemedshabby and even degrading. On more than one occasion, before he had been taken on the street in this fashion,other boys had called to him and made fun of his father, because he was always publicly emphasizing hisreligious beliefs or convictions. Thus in one neighborhood in which they had lived, when he was but a child ofseven, his father, having always preluded every conversation with "Praise the Lord," he heard boys call "Herecomes old Praise-the-Lord Griffiths." Or they would call out after him "Hey, you’re the fellow whose sister playsthe organ. Is there anything else she can play?""What does he always want to go around saying, ’Praise the Lord’ for? Other people don’t do it."It was that old mass yearning for a likeness in all things that troubled them, and him. Neither his father nor hismother was like other people, because they were always making so much of religion, and now at last they weremaking a business of it.

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On this night in this great street with its cars and crowds and tall buildings, he felt ashamed, dragged out ofnormal life, to be made a show and jest of. The handsome automobiles that sped by, the loitering pedestriansmoving off to what interests and comforts he could only surmise; the gay pairs of young people, laughing andjesting and the "kids" staring, all troubled him with a sense of something different, better, more beautiful thanhis, or rather their life.

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And now units of this vagrom and unstable street throng, which was forever shifting and changing about them,seemed to sense the psychologic error of all this in so far as these children were concerned, for they would nudgeone another, the more sophisticated and indifferent lifting an eyebrow and smiling contemptuously, the moresympathetic or experienced commenting on the useless presence of these children.

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"I see these people around here nearly every night now--two or three times a week, anyhow," this from a youngclerk who had just met his girl and was escorting her toward a restaurant. "They’re just working some religiousdodge or other, I guess.""That oldest boy don’t wanta be here. He feels outa place, I can see that. It ain’t right to make a kid like that comeout unless he wants to. He can’t understand all this stuff, anyhow." This from an idler and loafer of about forty,one of those odd hangers-on about the commercial heart of a city, addressing a pausing and seemingly amiablestranger.

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"Yeh, I guess that’s so," the other assented, taking in the peculiar cast of the boy’s head and face. In view of theuneasy and self-conscious expression upon the face whenever it was lifted, one might have intelligentlysuggested that it was a little unkind as well as idle to thus publicly force upon a temperament as yet unfitted toabsorb their import, religious and psychic services best suited to reflective temperaments of maturer years.

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Yet so it was.

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As for the remainder of the family, both the youngest girl and boy were too small to really understand much ofwhat it was all about or to care. The eldest girl at the organ appeared not so much to mind, as to enjoy theattention and comment her presence and singing evoked, for more than once, not only strangers, but her motherand father, had assured her that she had an appealing and compelling voice, which was only partially true. It wasnot a good voice. They did not really understand music. Physically, she was of a pale, emasculate andunimportant structure, with no real mental force or depth, and was easily made to feel that this was an excellentfield in which to distinguish herself and attract a little attention. As for the parents, they were determined uponspiritualizing the world as much as possible, and, once the hymn was concluded, the father launched into one ofthose hackneyed descriptions of the delights of a release, via self-realization of the mercy of God and the love ofChrist and the will of God toward sinners, from the burdensome cares of an evil conscience.

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"All men are sinners in the light of the Lord," he declared. "Unless they repent, unless they accept Christ, Hislove and forgiveness of them, they can never know the happiness of being spiritually whole and clean. Oh, myfriends! If you could but know the peace and content that comes with the knowledge, the inward understanding,that Christ lived and died for you and that He walks with you every day and hour, by light and by dark, at dawnand at dusk, to keep and strengthen you for the tasks and cares of the world that are ever before you. Oh, thesnares and pitfalls that beset us all! And then the soothing realization that Christ is ever with us, to counsel, toaid, to hearten, to bind up our wounds and make us whole! Oh, the peace, the satisfaction, the comfort, the gloryof that!""Amen!" asseverated his wife, and the daughter, Hester, or Esta, as she was called by the family, moved by theneed of as much public support as possible for all of them--echoed it after her.

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Clyde, the eldest boy, and the two younger children merely gazed at the ground, or occasionally at their father,with a feeling that possibly it was all true and important, yet somehow not as significant or inviting as some ofthe other things which life held. They heard so much of this, and to their young and eager minds life was madefor something more than street and mission hall protestations of this sort.

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Finally, after a second hymn and an address by Mrs. Griffiths, during which she took occasion to refer to themission work jointly conducted by them in a near-by street, and their services to the cause of Christ in general, athird hymn was indulged in, and then some tracts describing the mission rescue work being distributed, suchvoluntary gifts as were forthcoming were taken up by Asa--the father. The small organ was closed, the campchair folded up and given to Clyde, the Bible and hymn books picked up by Mrs. Griffiths, and with the organsupported by a leather strap passed over the shoulder of Griffiths, senior, the missionward march was taken up.

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During all this time Clyde was saying to himself that he did not wish to do this any more, that he and his parentslooked foolish and less than normal--"cheap" was the word he would have used if he could have brought himselfto express his full measure of resentment at being compelled to participate in this way--and that he would not doit any more if he could help. What good did it do them to have him along? His life should not be like this. Otherboys did not have to do as he did. He meditated now more determinedly than ever a rebellion by which he wouldrid himself of the need of going out in this way. Let his elder sister go if she chose; she liked it. His youngersister and brother might be too young to care. But he-"They seemed a little more attentive than usual to-night, I thought," commented Griffiths to his wife as theywalked along, the seductive quality of the summer evening air softening him into a more generous interpretationof the customary indifferent spirit of the passer-by.

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"Yes; twenty-seven took tracts to-night as against eighteen on Thursday.""The love of Christ must eventually prevail," comforted the father, as much to hearten himself as his wife. "Thepleasures and cares of the world hold a very great many, but when sorrow overtakes them, then some of theseseeds will take root.""I am sure of it. That is the thought which always keeps me up. Sorrow and the weight of sin eventually bring some of them to see the error of their way."They now entered into the narrow side street from which they had emerged and walking as many as a dozendoors from the corner, entered the door of a yellow single-story wooden building, the large window and the twoglass panes in the central door of which had been painted a gray-white. Across both windows and the smallerpanels in the double door had been painted: "The Door of Hope. Bethel Independent Mission. Meetings EveryWednesday and Saturday night, 8 to 10. Sundays at 11, 3 and 8. Everybody Welcome." Under this legend oneach window were printed the words: "God is Love," and below this again, in smaller type: "How Long SinceYou Wrote to Mother?"The small company entered the yellow unprepossessing door and disappeared.

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