d steel skyscraper whose black ribs stood out against
the stars, all brought to his imagination this evening the impression
of exhaustless power.

But what power?

Certainly not the power of love, pity, heroism, and unselfish devotion
to ideals. There could be but one answer. These flaming signs in the
sky were the signals of the advance skirmish line of a huge
host--growing in number and power each hour--the army of Mammon!

He paused before a theatre into which a stream of pleasure seekers were
pouring. The ticket speculators were yelling their wares on the
sidewalk. The play was a famous musical comedy. He knew to-night why
musical comedy had such vogue in the money centres of the world. It had
become the supreme expression of the utterly absurd--the reduction of
life to the terms of an absurdity expressed in rhythmic and sensuous
beauty. For men whose god was money, it would doubtless become
ultimately the only form of public entertainment.

He began to negotiate with one of the young Hebrew philanthropists of
the pavement for a ticket, but stopped in disgust and moved on. There
was something inside that hadn't surrendered. He began to be dimly
conscious of the fact that the real fight had scarcely begun. The
philanthropist's feelings were hurt by his abrupt departure. He
followed for half a block holding to Stuart's coat, protesting his
affectionate and earnest desire to promote his pleasure without a cent
of profit. He offered to cut the price of a seat to $3.50 and solemnly
swore that the unfeeling and unprincipled manager had made him pay
$3.00 for the ticket.

Stuart paused a moment, his imagination caught by the ravenous
eagerness of the man's face. Here surely was a true worshipper in the
modern temple.

The young lawyer smiled and said:

"I salute you, my brother--I'm thinking of joining you soon!"

The speculator suddenly let go his sleeve and hurried back to his
place, glancing over his shoulder with a vague fear that the lunatic
might follow him.

Stuart hurried on to one of the more dignified and serious theatres
just off Broadway. He bought a ticket and entered, wondering if he
would find the house empty. To his surprise it was full--orchestra,
balcony, and gallery. The play was a serious effort by a brilliant
young dramatist of the modern school of realism. In two minutes from
the rising of the curtain the play had gripped him with relentless
power. Slowly, remorseless as fate, he saw the p