upon the table.

"As I was saying," he continued in a steady, clear voice, "we are
fighting to-day the greatest of battles, and we cannot permit trivial
incidents, or personal bitterness, or small persecutions, to turn us
from the great work we have in hand. However our opponents may comport
themselves, we must be calm, steady, sure, patient, for we know that our
cause is just and will prevail."

"You're right," shouted a voice back in the room.

Instantly the tension relaxed, conversation started again and every
one turned away from the policeman at the door. In a few minutes, he
disappeared without having said a word.

There was no regular speaking, and about midnight the party began to
break up. I leaned over and said to my friend Bill Hahn:

"Can you find me a place to sleep tonight?"

"Certainly I can," he said heartily.

There was to be a brief conference of the leaders after the supper, and
those present soon departed. I went down the long, dark stairway and
out into the almost deserted street. Looking up between the buildings I
could see the clear blue sky and the stars. And I walked slowly up and
down awaiting my friend and trying, vainly to calm my whirling emotions.

He came at last and I went with him. That night I slept scarcely at all,
but lay looking up into the darkness. And it seemed as though, as I
lay there, listening, that I could hear the city moving in its restless
sleep and sighing as with heavy pain. All night long I lay there
thinking.

CHAPTER XI. I COME TO GRAPPLE WITH THE CITY

I have laughed heartily many times since I came home to think of the
Figure of Tragedy I felt myself that morning in the city of Kilburn. I
had not slept well, had not slept at all, I think, and the experiences
and emotions of the previous night still lay heavy upon me. Not before
in many years had I felt such a depression of the spirits.

It was all so different from the things I love! Not so much as a spear
of grass or a leafy tree to comfort the eye, or a bird to sing; no quiet
hills, no sight of the sun coming up in the morning over dewy fields, no
sound of cattle in the lane, no cheerful cackling of fowls, nor buzzing
of bees! That morning, I remember, when I first went out into those
squalid streets and saw everywhere the evidences of poverty, dirt, and
ignorance--and the sweet, clean country not two miles away--the thought
of my own home among the hills (with Harriet there in the doorway) came