ot so long, neither are they so complex.

"I am not trying to plead for anything. I am trying merely to express.
Prepared for everything, I have forgiven everything, even myself.
Everything that could happen has happened to me, perhaps the worst that
happened did not come from without, but from within. My family came off
safely enough from the fray of the factory. Only two of us were maimed
for life and five claimed for death--out of a family of eleven. That
left half a dozen for the statistician to figure on."

Terry, a transcendental poet, who worked in the shop for many years, had
quit it some time before he met Marie. The above letter shows, in a
general way, the mood which finally brought about his social self-exile,
so to speak. The letter which follows gives a specific instance of the
kind of experience which disgusted the idealist with the imperfect
world. He had been living against society, had foregathered with
outcasts and had thrown down the gauntlet generally to organised
society, for some years, but he still from time to time worked at some
job or other. An incident happening some years after the meeting with
Marie, which is still to be described, is sufficiently typical of what
finally threw him entirely out from society to be truthfully
illustrative at this point.

"I was keeping open house for all comers, regardless of law or order,
morality or money. I wished to hurl myself and my theories to the test,
and gauntlet my defiance to a withered world. It was a happy time,
looked back on now as a dream, in which, however, there was an undertone
of nightmare. We had three little rooms up many mild flights of
unbalustered stairs. Our main furniture consisted of mattresses which,
like morning clouds, were rolled away when the sun arose.

"For the shocking salary of six dollars a week I was collector for the
Prudential Insurance company. One rent day I lacked the necessary four
dollars and a half. I telegraphed my other ego, my dear brother Jim, in
Pittsburg. The same day brought from him a telegraph money-order for
twenty-five dollars, and soon afterward a letter asking me to go to
Pittsburg and help him out. I had always been deemed an expert in the
leather line, especially in locating anything wrong in the various
processes. My brother was a member of a new millionaire leather firm,
which was losing thousands of dollars every week because they were
unable to locate the weakness in the process. Jim wanted