Newspaper Page Text
MAY 3, 1902
THIRD TAGE
THE
By Joel Chandler Harris
St**opals of Preceding
Chapters
HE first chapter opens with
the cogitations of Wil
liam Wornum, In which
he tells of "the quiet place
and the quietest place in
the quiet place—a llt|e
side porch shaded by a
honeysuckle vine and
back of it the cosy room
belonging to a rambling
one-story house.” The
death of his father is re
called and he speaks of
his sister, Jane Wonum,
who is the "Sister Jane” of the story. It
is well, since she is the principal charac
ter. to give again the brother's delight
ful description of his sister:
"So far as sister Jane was concerned,
the whole village knew of her peculiari
ties, her strong will, her firm opinions,
and the sharp flavor she conveyed into
the most ordinary discussions: the whole
village knew of these, but only a few
knew how thin and frail a partition stoo 1
fluttering between the shrewd tongue
and the tender heart. None knew as I
knew—none could know.
"Verging on years of age my sister was
still plain Jane Wornum. Her hair was
turning gray, but her eye was as bright
and her step as firm as ever. Her fea
tures were strong, but not coarse. She
hafi the heartiest laugh ever heard, when
in the humor, but it was not wasted on
everything that came to her cars or fell
under her observation. She had a firm
chin, and lips that were ready at all
times and under all circumstances to
frame the decisive word. She never had
an affair of the heart, such as we read
of in books. I used to say to myself
that if she had caught Master Cupid hid
ing in her rose bed, she would have run
him off the place at the point of the
broom stick, much as if he were a stray
cat. She expressed supremo contempt
for men who had no knack of getting
along in the world, but secretly pitied
them.”
Tom Tinkins, the large yellow house
cat, sleek and lazy, but an infallible
reader of human character, is another
Important personage. He knows a mean
man or a good one and always manages
to let his likes and dislikes he known.
Colonel Cephas Bullard, deeply religious,
a class leader in church and superin
tendent of the Sunday school, is also in
troduced along with his wife, "a pale
little woman who rarely went out of
the house,” and their beautiful daughter,
Mary.
The second chapter deals with the con
versation between that unique and
strongly drawn character, Sally Be-
shears. and sister Jane, in which Wi>
11am Wornum overhears them say that
Mary Bullard Is In love. When he at
tempts to learn the name of the man
his slter refuses to tell him, except to
say, laughingly: "You.” And the first
installment concludes in the following
words from William Wornum, which
may serve as an introduction to the
chapter published in this issue:
•*!tut all these things passed out of my
mind as the season passes, and rnv
thoughts fell back into their old chan
nels. where doubtless they would have
remained but for a circumstance that
stiffed before—a circumstance that'
brought unexpected complications—and
changed
life.”
the course of more than one
CHAPTER THREE
WHAT THE STORM HEFT AT OUR
DOOR.
One night In the winter of 1848—I think
It was the 17th of January—I was sitting
In my room ruminating as usual. The
fire on the hearth had hunted low, the
> weather haring bean rainy and warm
during the day. TMwUth'^f** closed door
I heard the subdued hum of conversation
between Mrs. Beshears and my sister
Jane, and it made my solitude more
cheerful. Once, hearing the whistle of
the rising wind, I looked from the door.
Slid saw that the rain clouds that had
been coming from the west all day were
now driving swiftly before a northwest
wind. Patches of dark-blue Sky showed
here and there in the zenith, and in
these the stars twinkled as freshly as If
they had been washed clean by the white
vapors that went whirling through the
sky.
By the time the 9 o’clock bell had rung,
the temperature had fallen considerably,
and I was compelled to replenish my fire.
The northwest wind Increased to" a gale,
and prgiently I heard the tinkling spatter
of sleet as the wind hurled It against
my window blinds. Sometimes the wind
would rise away from the earth and
roar In the tops of the trees and chim
neys; then it would fall to the ground
again, bringing with It a blast of cut
ting sleet. Mrs. Beshears had stayed
longer than usual, and I wondered how
she and the negro boy who always ac
companied her would manage to get home
through the storm. Worried somewhat by
this thought, I rose from my rocking
chair and walked nervously about the
room. Suddenly I heard the sound cf
voices on the sidewalk. What they said
at first was drowned by the roaring wind,
but presently I heard a woman's voice:
”1 ain’t gain' narry step, an' you can’t
make me. I'll die fust.”
Then came the voice of a man: .’’Ef
you don’t come, you’ll rue it. You’ve
come this fur; you might as welt go fur-
der. Come on, I tell ye; I’ll call ’em fo
the door.”
”1 won't!" exclaimed the woman. "I
won't and I shan't!”
There was an ominous pause. The
woman cried out again: "Mind now! Ef
you hit me. ’ll holler. You can’t keep me
from hollerin'."
"You slut!” said the man. his voice
I Will Cure You of
Rheumatism
NO PAY UNTIL YOU KNOW IT.
After 2,000 experiments, I have learned
hew to cure Rheumatism. Not to turn
bony joints Into flesh again; that Is im
possible. But 1 can cure the disease al
ways, at any stage, and forever.
I ask for no money. Simply write me
a postal and 1 will send you an order on
your nearest druggist for six bottles of
Dr. Shoop's Rheumatic Cure, for every
dtuggist Keeps it. Use it for a month
and if It does what I claim, pay your
druggist 85.50 for It. If it doesn’t, I will
pay nlm myself.
I have no samples. Any medicine that
car. affect Rheumatism with but a few
doses must he drugged to the verge of
danger. I use no such drugs. It is folly
to take them. You must get the diseas*
out cf the blocd.
My remedy does that, even !n the most
difficult, obstinate cases. No matter how
Impossible this seems to yoq. I know It
and I take this risk. 1 have cured tens
of thousands cf cases In this way, and
mv records show that 39 out of 40 who
get those six bottles pay, and gladly. I
nave learned that people In general aro
fcenest with a physician who cures them.
7 hat Is all I ask. If I fall I don't expect
a penny from you.
Pimply write me a postal card or letter.
Det me send you an order for the medi
cine: also a book. Take It for a month,
for It won’t harm you anyway. If it
cures, pay 85.50. I leave that entirely to
you. Address Dr. Shoop. Box 901, Racine.
Wla.
Mild cases, not chronic, are .often
(Copyright, 1S96.)
iPchoked and shaking with rage. “You
slut! Don't you never dast to let me see
your face ag'ln. I’ll murder you ef you
do!”
“Hoity-toity!” I said to myself. "What’s
all this about at such a time of night?”
and I made up my mind, if any more
threats were made by the man, to go
out and give him a genteel pummellng,
dark as It was. I imagined I heard some
one raise the latch of the gate, and I
thought, too, that I heard a shuffling
sound on the little porch, but on a stormy
night the mind has ears of Its own. and
has a habit of conjuring up every sound
that the physical ears would be unlikely
to hear. So I traced the click of the
latch and the shuffling on the porch to
some queer trick of the wind.
And it was an easy matter to account
for the savage dialogue that came to my
ears through the walls. Three miles from
the village there was a cotton factory
that had Just been put in operation. It
was a small affair, indeed, but It had
already gathered about It a class of pop
ulation that seemed to me to be some
what undesirable. The men had already
begun to straggle into town after factory
hours, and the most of them, when they
went straggling back, carried a Jug of
rum home with them, besides the drams
they had Inside their skins. They were
as lanky and as lousy-looking a set as I
had ever seen—pale, cadaverous, and
careworn—veritable "clay caters,” as I
have heard sister Jane call them. What
more natural than that one of these
men, coming to the village after a Jug
of rum, should be followed by his wife;
that both should have taken a dram too
much; and that they were In a some
what maudlin condition when they
paused under the eaves of my room to
carry on a meaningless quarrel? I had
dismissed the matter from my mind
when I heard Mrs. Beshears coming along
the hallway, followed by sister Jane (as
usual) with a lighted candle.
"Gone to bed, William?” cried Mrs.
Beshears, briskly tapping on the Inner
door.
"Come In,” I replied. "I have been
waiting to escort you home.”
"Me?” exclaimed Mrs. Beshears, in
some astonishment. “Oh, my! Think of
that, Jane! What a compliment!” She
curtsied In a way that I had not thought
her capable of. “Do you reely think,
Jane, that a young thing like me ought
to trust herself alone, or as good as
alone, with as gay a beau as William
is? No, I thank you, William. I won’t
pester you to go tonight. Some other
night, when the moon is shining, and
the wind ain't so high.”
"But," I persisted in all seriousness,
"there has been a tremendous change In
the weather. Sleet is falling, even now.
The wind will blow you away.”
"And what would you be doin', Wil
liam? A-hangtng on to my frock, and
a-squalllng. I'll be bound. And folks d
stick their heads out o’ the windows, and
say: ’Run here, everybody, and look!
Yonder goes the old witch a-flying high,
with a young man to help her sweep off
the sky.’ No, William; I know you mean
what you say v bpt by the thpe you’ye
faced as manystorms as old Sally ’Bi-
shears, you won’t never want anybody
to put themselves out for you. Bless
your heart, honey! Here’s what’s faced
wind and rain, sleet and hall, thes#
many long years, with abundance of
thunder flung In for good measure.’’
"I’ve begged ad begged her to stay all
night, but she won’t listen to that,” re
marked sister Jane.
“No, no!” exclaimed Mrs. Beshears,
shaking her head and rapping on the
floor with her cane. "I know I’m Jest as
welcome as anybody could be, and I’d
stay, if I could, if only for the sakes of
that nigger boy. I’m a red-eyed tory if I
don’t believe he’ll have every stitch o'
clothes blow’d off of him before he gits
to the next corner. And that'll be more
patching and sewing for me—and the
I.ord knows I have enough of that. No,
folks, I can’t stay. If them two babies
of mine was to wake up in Xhe night
and miss me, they'd git to wandering
hither and yon In the dark, and they
might fall and hurt themselves, poor old
souls!"
Of course there was nothing to be
said after that, so I stationed myself at
the door ready to open and close it as
quickly as possible, while sister Jane,
as was her nightly habit, poised the can
dle so as to hold it above her head, as If
by that means to light Mrs. Bfshears
on her way.
"Come on„ little nigger. I'm mighty
sorry for you, but I can't keep the wind
from blowing nor the sleet from sleet
ing.”
But she was careful to tie around his
neck the big knitted scarf which she
had worn over her head, wrapping her
cape around her own ears. Then sister
Jane came to the rescue with her big
striped shawl, and, in a moment, Mrs.
Beshears was ready for her homeward
Journey.
’^Goodnight, folks.” she said once more.
"If It keeps on blowing I'll likely not
come tomorrow night. Jane, and If Wil
liam cries about it, le" me know. Come
on. liiTte nigger.”
As sister Jane held the candle above
her head, I opened the door, and as Mrs.
Beshears and the negro slipped out, tried
to push It quickly to. But the storm
was quicker. The wind swirled In, caught
the door and held It against all my
strength, blew out the candle, and sent
the sparks and ashes firing out of the
fireplace all over the room. It was the
work of a moment. Sister Jane dropped
the candle, gave a little shriek of dismay,
and ran about the room, knocking tlie
sparks and coals from the counterpane
and curtains, and from the rug. She had
hardly begun to do this, when there
came a tremendous thumping at the door,
which I had managed to close, and we
heard Mrs. Beshears screaming so as to
make herself heard above the rush and
roar of the storm:
"Jane! Jane! William' For God Al
mighty's sake come here! William!
Jane!”
Then she began to beat frantically on
the panels with her walking cane. I
jumped to the door at the sound of her
voice, but in my haste and confusion I
forgot to turn the key, and stood turn
ing and wrenching the bolt. Mrs. Ee-
shears must have divined the trouble,
for she screamed from the outer side:
“Unlock the door! Here's somebody
Mild cases, not chronic, are aften i
cured by one or two bottles. At all drug- j “ ea<J or a • lr -S-
gists. At last habit, more than presence
of
mind, came to my assistance. I turned
the key mecitinlcally, drew back the bolt,
and the wind burst tbe door open. By
this time sister Jane had thrust a hand
ful of fat pine splinters in the fireplace,
and now held the* flaming torch aloft.
"It's a woman!" gasped Mrs. Beshears.
“A woman and a baby. I found out that
much!”
It Is wonderful how active the mind is
In moments of extreme excitement, and
how prone the memory Is to seise and reg
ister the mo& trifling details. With one
glance I saw that sister Jane was pale,
but composed, that Mrs. Beshears was
white as a ghost, that sister Jane's big
tortoise shell comb had fallen from her
head, and that one of Mrs. Beshears’
big crescent-shaped earrings had been
loosed from its fastening. ’Twas all as
momentary as the lightning’s flash. It
was fortunate Indeed that In the very
nick and point of time the little negro
boy, who was clinging convulsively to ths
skirts of his mistress, should suddenly set
up a series of shrieks and yells which,
being wholly unreasonable, and there
fore Irritating, served to recall ua all
to our senses.
“Sally, for the Lord’s saks give that
imp a cuff that’ll take his breath away,”
said sister Jane.
This timely advice wss promptly fol
lowed, and the confusion and excitement
we had all felt a moment before were
sensibly allayed. I stepped on the porch,
and, bj- the dim light of the pine torch
held aloft by sister Jane, saw a woman
huddled In one corner. Her feet were
stretched out, and, from having been In
a sitting posture, her head had drooped
forward until It touched a bundle she had
In her lap. Around this bundle her
arms were twined. I soon found she was
not dead, for she moved and a rigor
shook 'her frame when I laid my hand on
her shoulder.
"Get up and come tn the house," ]
said, shaking her by the arm. "Come
Get up! You'll freeze out here.”
She raised her head, shook back her
hair, and glanced wildly about her.
"I won't go up yonder!’’ she moaned
"I’ll die fust! Oh, me! Why—why—why
can’t I die an’ be done with It?”
It was the pltlfulest cry that had ever
come to my ears. It reached sister Jane’s,
too, for she threw her torch in the fire,
came forward, and took command.
"Lift her by that arm, William, and
I’ll lift her by this. Get up, and come in
the house. This is no place for you out
here. Come, let’s go to the fire.”
Sister Jane's voice was so Arm, and yet
so kind and sympathetic that the woman
looked up Jn a dazed way.
“Who are you?” she asked, brushing
her hair back with her finger.
"Nobody, much,” replied sister Jane,
"and if you keep me standing out here
in the cold, I won’t be anybody at all.”
"Won't you go in ’less I go?" asked the
woman.
"No, I won’t!” said sister Jane, de
cisively.
Without another word the woman rose
to her feet with ou* help, and went In
the house. I wag truly glad when the
door wjus closed, for the weather **» bit
ter col*-the~ coldest. It'was said after
wards, that had ever been experienced
by the oldest inhabitant. Sister Jane
carried the woman Into her own room,
where there was a warm fire, followed
by Mrs. Beshears. who was moved by
both sympathy and curiosity.
The woman was duly installed In the
big rocking chair, and, by the uncertain
light of the candle, presented a picture
so forlorn, so desolate, and so miserable
that I hope never to see Its like again.
It was pot the faded sunbonnet that
she tried hard to pull over her eyes, nor
the shabby dress, nor the coarse and
muddy shoes, nor all these together.
They were the merest accessories. The
forlomness and misery lay deeper. In
some subtle way presenting themselves
to the mind rather than to the eye.
"Let me take your bonnet,” said sister
Jane.
"I don’t mind It; It don’t bother me,"
replied the woman.
"It’s better off.” persisted sister Jane, as
she gently and deftly untied the strings.
“I reckon my head's a plum sight,”
said the woman, true to her sex.
The one glance that I got of her face
when her bonnet came off—for she bent
her head over the bundle in her arms—
showed that she was quite a young wom
an, not more than twenty at the most.
Her hair was as black as a crow’s wing
and as sheeny. I judged that If she
were furnished forth with the tassels
and toggery of -fashion, she would be
strikingly handsome. So far as I could
see, Mrs. Beshears had not bestowed a
glance on the young woman, but sat gaz
ing steadily Into the bed of hickory coals,
tapping the andiron gently with the end
of her cane. Presently she turned In her
chair.
“What have you got !n that bundle?”
“Nothing but a little bit of a baby,"
replied the young woman, hugging it
closer to her bosom.
"A baby!" exclaimed sister Jane.
"Yes'm. An' ef he don’t pester me, T
don't see how he can pester anybody.”
Hearing no comment on this, the young
woman looked up. I could see despair
in her eyes; I could see misery In the
flutter of her nostril«, and In the droop
of her mouth. Hopelessness, friendless
ness—all the misfortunes that go froop-
lng after sin—had set their seal on that
face.
How she misread the sympathy that
was written in every line of sister Jane's
face. I have never been able to under
stand, for tears were standing In those
honest eyes. But the young woman half
rose from her chair and began to gather
the thin and shabby shawl more closely
around the child.
"Gl’ me my bonnet, «n’ I’ll go,” she
said. ”1 know'd In reason I ought not
to ’a’ come in here. I ain’t got no more
business in this house than I’ve got on
the inside of a church, an’ that's the
Lord's truth. Show me the door, please,
ma'am. The cold ain't no more to me
than the heat, an' the night’s lots better
than the day. I’ve brung mud in your
house on my shoes. Where’s my bonnet?
Thess gl' me my bonnet. It's all the
headwear I’ve got left."
"Sit down,” said sister Jane. "Give
me that child. If It ain’t frozen, It ain’t
your fault.”
"No'm! No’m!" protested the woman.
’’Le’ me go—I must go! I didn't want
to come in, but you all took an’ drug me.
I ain't no more wuth your thought than
the four-foote
Gl’ roe my boi
"Sit down!
me that child,
were given in
woman that
well as usele
back In the
dcred the bunt
borne such
Holding the bui
then on the othei
of unwrapping).
the moods.
down! Give
e'l commands
convinced the
table as
so she sank
and surren-
had not
:y-odd yeara
one arm and
ter the process
te.took off the
blanket or shawl—whatever It was, it was
shabby enough—and in a moment there
was disclosed to our curious eyes a fat
and rosy, but extremely sleepy infant.
The woman had already indicated that
ll was a boy, and he was certainly a
fine one to all outward appearances. As
sister Jane held him up to get a good
view of his face, his head wabbled about
on his shoulders, and he half opened
his eyes. Then he smiled, and leaned
his head against my sister’s bosom.
Whereupon she laughed aloud.
"I declare! He’s about the cutest thing
I ever saw!" she cried. “Look at him,
Sally—he’s right now as happy as a
lord.”
"He ain’t cold, is he?" asked Mrs. Be
shears. going forward to inspect him.
"Why, he’s as warm as’ a toast,” said
sister Jane, as proudly as if she had
been the means of keeping him warm.
"How old is he?” asked airs. Beshears,
turning to the mother.
But there was no answer from that
quarter. The woman’s right hand hung
limp by her side; the other was caught
in the partially open bosom of her dress.
Her head had fallen to one side, and all
the color had left her face.
"Take this child, William!" exclaimed
sister Jane, thrusting the baby into my
lap. No doubt I held him awkwardly
enough, but I cuddled him up in my arms
to the best of my ability, which, in
this direction, at least, was poor enough.
With a promptness and decision beyond
all fft-alsev sister Jane seized the sponge
which she used to dampen cloth with
before pressing. It, dipped it In a pan of
cold water that was always within reach,
and applied It to the face and wrists
of the poor woman, whose fainting spell
was the result of S' reaction from the
strain that misfortune and exposure had
Imposed upon her. She was young and
robust, but fainting spells seem to be a
part of the equipment of the sex, and
are intended, no doubt, to shield them
from the most acute corms of mental and
physical anguish.
The woman was soon revived, and, af
ter a glass of muscadine wine, which sis
ter Jane had made with her own Hands,
and which was uncorked only o'n the
rarest occasions,after a glass of this pun
gent and aromatic wine, the woman was
as Well as before. Better, In fact, for
the forlorn expression slowly died out
of her face, the color found Its way back
Into her cheeks, and her eyes grew
brighter.
"How old is your baby?” Inquired Mrs.
Beshears once more. She had not for
gotten that '0-r curiosity In this partlcu
lar had not beAi satis fled.
“A rlsin’ of five months.” replied the
mother.
“Where’s your husband?" Mr*. Be
shears asked.
For answer, the woman placed her
hands to her face, leaned back in the
chair, and said nothing, but I could see
that sigi was deeply moved.
“Dead, I reckon 7” persisted Mrs. Be
shears.
The woman, still holding her hands
before her face, shook her head with cm
phasls, and then began to cry as uncon
trollably as a child might. Mrs. Be
shears looked at sister Jane, sister Jane
looked at Mrs. Beshears. then both
looked at me, and I looked at the baby.
No word was said, but_ all of us knew
that the unfortunate creature who sat
there weeping had descended Into the
valley where sin and shame have their
abiding place—a valley that is deep, but
not far to -seek.
I looked at the baby when sister Jane
and Mrs. Beshears looked at me, and
was surprised to find that It was looking
at me. Its bright eyes were wide open,
and when they met mine, the child smiled
and tried to hide Its face on my shoulder.
Presently it reached Its dimpled hand to
my cheek, and began to pinch It gently.
It was such a pretty and cunning trick
that I Involuntarily hugged the little one
closer In my arms, and realized for the
first time in my life how sweet and thrill
ing the glory of motherhood must be to
a woman—even to the poor woman sit
ting near me, consumed as she was with
shame and misery.
"I told you as plain as I could talk,
she sobbed, "that I hain’t no business
to be In this house. For mercy’s sake,
gi’ me my poor little baby an' my bonnet,
an' le’ me go!”
Not knowing what else to do, I rose
from my chair, and was about to comply,
when sister Jane said sternly:
"What are you doing, William? Give
the child to me."
“He's not asleep,” I remarked, with as
much austerity of manner as I could at
the moment assume.
"Go show your grandmother how to
make a goose yoke,” said sister Jane,
sarcastically.
"You seem to know a great deal about
babies," I suggested, with some show of
dignity.
“I ought to, goodness knows,” replied
sister Jane, "for I've had one on my
hands for the better part of my life.’
If I said nothing In rejoinder, it was
not because of a lack of a disposition to
do so, but because there was nothing
else to be said. Moreover, I felt that
Providence had directed me aright when
I rose to place the child In Its mother’s
arms. If I had said. "Woman, stay,'
the woman would have had to go. But,
by an involuntary movement, I had sgid,
"Woman, go!” Therefore sheyrould stay.
The perversity which attaches Itself to
the feminine mind, as the mistletoe to
the bough of the crabapple—sprouting
from the under side, If It can find no more
convenient footing—was as marked In
my sister Jane as 1n any woman; but I
thank heaven that It never hardened her
heart nor soured her temper so far as I
was concerned.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Wonderful “Zion City 99 Which Dowie
' Has Built Within 12 Months
(While personally we may not approve-! widely different things. Here was Dowie,
the methods or assertions of "Elijah”
Dowie, the story of his achievements, as
related below, is one of the most remark
able in the history of a remarkable
country.)
8y John Si
Wrtttmm fmr bne^unBy Sooth
ORTY-TWO miles north of
Chicago," and an equal dis
tance south of Milwaukee,
near the line of the Chica
go and Northwestern rail
way, stands a gigantic sign
board bearing the legend,
“Zion City, 6,500 Acres.”
Below the lettering there
Is a bird’s-eye view of the
new metropolis. In the cen
ter stands a magnificent
marble temple—the finest
the painter could Imagine.
About It Is a great park, and from this
radiate broad boulevards, reaching to.
other parks, and crossing at Intervals the
straight north and south streets and av
enues of the. city. Lake Michigan Is
shown in the foreground; on the land ly
ing between the railroid and the lake
are great factories—all smokeless—and an
enormous central power house, also
smokeless.
A year ago this sign stood In the
midst of a vacant tract of land, with no
house In sight save occasional farm
dwellings strung along the Green Bay
road, a quarter of a mile to the west
ward. Today nearly 4,000 people live
within a mile of the road; some of them
In 85,000 dwellings. Between the railroad
and the lake—where then was a bleak
stretch of sand dune and wooded peat
bog—stands a structure covering three
acres of land, the power house of the
picture, and other buildings. Along the
track are great freight sheds, lumber
yards and other Indications of business
and prosperity. Houses axe being rushed
up on every side, and the sounds of ham
mer and saw are everywhere. A station
stands beside the railway, and a dozen
trains a day stop there. The way-
freight spends from half an hour to an
hour switching on the long sidings. A
year ago Zion City was a man's dream—
which he had communicated to a great
number of people who believed in him.
Today Zion City is a fact, and the
dreamer, John A. Dowie, is its ruler in
all matters both spiritual and temporal.
Not since the march of the Mormons
across the plains has this country seen
so phenomenal a movement as this of
a religious body out of the cities and
out of other sects into a community of
Its own.
The Rev. John Alex Dowie appeared In
Chicago ten or twelve years ago, un
known to Americans, though rather
noted in Australia. He stepped quickly
into prominence as a leader of faith-
healers, having In fact come as a mis
sionary for the “International Society
of Divine Healing," of which he after
wards became president. Opening his
meetings in a tent, he soon drew crowds,
made himself notorious and proceeded to
found the "Christian Catholic Church In
Zion." an organization which now has
100.600 members, probably, recognizes him
as Its head, and contributes to him, for
Its maintenance, a tithe, rigidly enforced,
of all the financial increase of all its
members.
Eventualty he possessed several mil
lions worth of property, on which he
must pay taxes, being unable to per
suade the assessors of Chicago to view
him in the same light as the Roman
Catholic church and let his property go
free. This Is what decided Dowie to
found a city of hls own. In this new
city he purposed to appoint hls own as
sessors and health department, rule his
people directly, and have a chance to
expand and be great. Incidentally he be
lieves In theocracy; believes that event
ually thts and every other country will
be ruled by God through the voice of the
prophet, and that he Is the prophet to
begin this restoration of an old Idea. So
he planned his city and arranged to bring
in tbe faithful.
But to plan a city and to build it are
a preacher, pretty rich, to be sure, but
not rich enough to buy
Prevsrln^ the land on which to
to Halid bqild. For If he would
Ml* have a good city he must
Gllmtic have a' good location, and
Zioaz Cits' land in good locations
comes high. And if he
were to start buying land In any locality
the people from whom he wished to buy
would be very likely to jump tbe prices
up. Besides there must be good rea
son for settlers to come In. or hls city
would never amount to anything. 8o
Dowie went to work secretly to find a
location, arrange for Industries and se
cure the land, before his plans Should get
Out.
In' the first place he had to inform hls
people that 'the city was being planned.
That was necessary In order that the
money should come In. He told them
about hls proposed great city of Zion, site
still unknown, but where the law of God
should be supreme. He formed the Zion
Land and Investment Association, and
called for subscriptions. Investors had
no rights except that of exchanging their
"stock” for leases on land which Dowie
should buy. The land should belong to
him, and as long as they held their stock
he guaranteed "dividends” on It. In this
way he collected an enormous amount of
money.
Then he sent out Deacon Daniel Sloan,
formerly a secretary of the Y. M^ C. A.,
and H. Worthington Judd, a real estate
dealer, to select a site. They chose the
one on the lake shore which was finally
secured. It was an excellent strip of
land, rolling, well-watered, partially
wooded, and for the most part covered
with fine farms. It had 2 miles of front
age on Lake Michigan and affording
every possibility of harbor making. One
bijjshway ran through It. another along
Its westefh edge. Five miles away to the
south was the prosperous city of Wau
kegan. where there was a harbor and
the lake terminus of the “outer belt”
line—the Elgin, Joliet and Eastern rail
way. There was every facility for this
line also to enter the “promised land."
Dowie already had hls Industry picked
out. He wanted to get one with which
the name of “Zion” could easily be asso
ciated. Lace making was a new Indus
try In this country. An English lace
maker was trying to sell hls plant and
come over to Join Dowie. Dowie bought
the plant, organized an association with a
capital of 81.000,000 to run it—collecting
8400,000 cash from hls followers on hls
personal security before he bought a foot
of land or laid a brick for the factory,
and guaranteeing from 6 to 12 per cent
dividends on the slock. He went outside
of lace-making In hls plans and prospec
tus. He planned—and still plans—a great
textile Industry, whgre cotton shall be
spun and woven into cloth, where wool
en goods shall be made, and Where lice
shall be manufactured—all of the best
materials, at good prices, and all to the
upbuilding of the "Christian Catholic
church.”
Dowie had not yet a foot of the land,
nor had be then found a man capable of
buying it. Had he asked real estate men,
they would haffs told him It would be im
possible to buy a tract as large as he
wanted—6,500 acres—so near Chicago,
without paying fabulous prices for it,
even if he could persuade the holders to
sell it at all. Failure to buy any single
acre of It would be fatal, for he had
planned a city In which there should be
no liquor or tobacco, and in which these
should be forbidden in the deeds and
leases. If a single acre of land was
owned by an outsider, the owner could
set up a saloon or do as he pleased In
the midst of tbe godly community and
corrt'.pt the Inhabitants.
When things go right with Dowie. he-
assures himself and his followers that
It Is the Lord’s doings. When they go
wrong the devil has
Dowls’i triumphed. In this
Scheme case the Lord came
of to the rescue and sent
Horolc Pro- a real estate man
portions named Wheelock to
Zion with a proposi
tion to sell another tract of land to them.
Dowie and Sloan shed him up as a pretty
DID NOT KNOW SHE
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t.)
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safe man to work with, and so they made
a contract with him to go and buy the
land they wanted on a sliding commis
sion. The cheaper he got it the more he
made.
’Here Is 825,000,” said Sloan. "Deposit
tills in the bank at Waukegan in your
name, hire a buggy or buy one and go
to work. Get the land. Get three-year
options on every acre of It. Make the best
terms you can. Provide for cash pay
ments where you have to, get mortgage
arrangements where you can. Get all
the time' you can. Let no whisper get out
that you are acting for Dowie.”
Following these instructions, Wheelock
worked up and down over the territory,
moving gradually westward, paying less
as he went away from the lake, till he
had covered the whole 6,509 acres and
had secured options on it at aq average
price of 8200 an acre. These options alone
cost Mr. Dowie 8100,000 in cash. They
were on contracts which provided that
any time within three years he might
close the bargain and take deed. They
provided for time payments, and also
that the forfeiture of any payment would
turn back the land to the original owner.
The owners retained the right to farm
their lands until final deed was given to
Dowie.
Tho highest price was 8500 an acre for
lake shore land. That seemed a stagger
er to the Chicago people, who had Ideas
about the value of north shore land so far
away. A little later a real estate man
offered Dowie 8600,000 cash if he would
step aside and let him assume responsibil
ity of the bargain. But Dowie refused.
The offer was increased beyond 81,000,-'
000, but he rftjjl refused. It was easily
seen that with so large and so compact
a tract, well situated, he had but to run
in railway Bide tracks, give away sites
to manufacturers, guarantee freedom
from taxation, and found a boom town of
tbe largest size.
When he had paid for the first 1,000
acres, he called the faithful to Zion, and
began hls Mg land saTe. Special trains
carried thousands to the city, where an
odd mixture of religion and business was
shown in his plan to "lease” for 1,109
years, at prices which would return a
profit of 815,000.000 on the deal.
Chicago expected a colossal failure
then, and there were numerous prophe
cies that Dowie had at last passed the
zenith and was descending toward a
grand "sunset." But tlhs has failed to
happen thus far. The faithful obeyed
their leader's voice and flocked in. The
city was opened in July of last year. By
autumn there were hundreds of houses
up. The lace works were running and
new buildings were going up for them.
Men, women and children came In every
conceivable way. I remember seeing in
a hollow near a creek, In the back part of
Zion City, an encampment of Kansas peo
ple who had come all the way In prairie
schooners—just as their fathers had gone
to Kansas—and were awaiting their
chance to build. People lived in tents,
in shanties, in wagons—any way at all,
till houses crfild be built. Cold weather
drove many to shelter elsewhere, but
many stayed, some living in tents even
with the thermometer at 20 below zero.
By spring there were 3.000 people there.
By summer there will be 45,000. Already
Dowie has paid for and thrown open
3,000 acres of hls land.
Dowle’s plans have expanded with the
city. He is building big school houses.
He is planning a university. He has a
college already, but he wants a greater
school. He plans a great capital. He
has followers and settlements all over
the country, and Zion is to be the head
city. He plans to rule from there, and
his city must be worthy of him. He hopes
to see his textile factory covering 50
acres within a decade or less, but he does
not expect to see all of much of Zion
given up to commerce, for it is to be the
intellectual and spiritual capital of the
Christian Catholic church.
Incidentally Dowie has become a po
litical power In Lake county. In a few
years he will be stronger and will loom
up tn Illinois. That is
because Zion City votes
as Dowie directs. It has
a municipality, and
Dowie kindly "steps
aside” and a!(>ws a
mayor chosen as his peo
ple desire. But both candidates, or all of
them, are members of his church and of
hls cabinet, and hls views rule Zion
Dowls
Now *
Strong
Political
Po war
through whoever may be elected.
Nor Is there a great deal for the mayor
and his council to do. for Zion Is ruled
largely by the leases on the land, which
provide that no person shall sell liquors
or tobacco, pork or oysters, or drugs, nor
shall any one living thereon practice
medicine, surgery or dentistry. If these
clauses are violated, the land reverts to
Dowie. or after hls death to trustees of
the church, to be disposed of as they
see fit
One need not belong to Dowie’s church
to lease there, and the believe* In medi
cine may call !n a doctor from outside.
He can use drugs If he buys them out
side, and need not pay his tithes to the
church if he is not a member. If one is/
willing to obey the Ten Commandments
plus Dowle’s additions and to live ac
cording to the sanitary code of the old
Jewish law, he will find Zion City a
home among a kindly and industrious
people, who, because they spend nothing
on drink and tobacco are unusually
prosperous.
The greet pesver house of Zion City
I
dbtuct anr