coming events, the infinite intelligence washing around us all, floating
this earth, and holding the stars in their courses, sent a long, thin
fleck of a wave into the mind of this man who stood working and dreaming
in the twilight while the old century was passing. And while he saw his
vision, other minds in other parts of the earth saw their visions. Some
of these myriad visions formed part of his, and his formed part of
theirs, and all were part of the great vision that was brooding upon the
bourne of time and space. And other visions, parts of the great vision
of the Creator, were moving with quickening life in other minds and
hearts. The disturbed vision of justice that flashed through the
Doctor's mind was a part of the vast cycle of visions that were hovering
about this earth. It was not his alone, millions held part of it;
millions aspired, they knew not why, and staked their lives upon their
faith that there is a power outside ourselves that makes for
righteousness. And as the waves of infinite, resistless,
all-encompassing love laved the world that New Year's night that cast
the new Century upon the strange shores of time, let us hope that the
dreams of strong men stirred them deeply that they might move wisely
upon that mysterious tide that is drawing humanity to its unknown goal.

CHAPTER XXXII

WHEREIN VIOLET HOGAN TAKES UP AN OLD TRADE AND MARGARET VAN DORN SEEKS A
HIGHER PLANE

The new Century brought to Harvey such plenitude that all night and all
day the smelter fires painted the sky up and down the Wahoo Valley; all
night long and all day long the miners worked in the mines, and all
through the night and the long day the great cement factory and the
glass factories belched forth their lurid fumes. The trolley cars went
creaking and moaning around the curves through the mean, dirty, squalid,
little streets of the mining and manufacturing towns. They whined
impatiently as they sailed across the prairie grass under the befogged
sunshine between the settlements, but always they brought up with their
loads at Harvey. So Harvey grew to be a prosperous inland city, and the
Palace Hotel with its onyx and marble office, once the town's pride,
found itself with all its striving but a third-class hostelry, while the
three-story building of the Traders' Bank looked low and squatty beside
its six and seven storied neighbors. The tin cornices of Market Street
were wiped away, and yellow brick and terra cot