Five years have passed since the dedication of that beautiful home; years that have brought their changes; as time invariably does. The mystic rooms—the sanctum of the expectant mother—have been occupied, again and yet again. Our royal Margaret was the first to come under the spell of its sweet and wonderful influence. Giving herself up to the delightful occupations provided for in these secluded rooms, keeping ever in mind the grand result which was to come of it, one morning after a night of pain and suspense Wilbur kissed a fine, beautiful, healthy boy that was laid in his arms. Kneeling at her side with his head resting on the same pillow with the fair white face of his peerless Margaret the whisper greeted his ear:
“I am blessed today beyond the measure of women.”
Who shall say that his happiness did not equal her own.
Another had not been long in following her brave example. When Cora’s baby girl was laid upon her breast Owen’s measure of happiness was filled and tears blinded his eyes as he kissed the mother of his child.
The two sisters, Edith and Hilda, both brought joy and happiness to their lovers’ hearts by presenting them with miniature reflections of themselves, and Norman had held Imelda’s boy to his heart.
By this time the babies that first came to the new home were making glad the hearts of their mothers by their childish prattle; some of the mothers were watching the first trembling footsteps, and now Alice was waiting, watching for the coming hour. Milton watched with worshipful tenderness the little fairy whose love was life to him.
New faces also now greet us. New comers have helped to fill the precious home, who were just as good and worthy as those whose fortunes we have so long followed.
But to return to the young mothers. They did not devote all their time to their darling babies. O, no! Dearly as they loved them they found that they had other work to do while the little ones were left to the care of those who were perfectly trustworthy, Not to be petted, not to be pampered and spoiled, but left to those who understood how to get to the depths of each baby nature.
When it is remembered what preparation had been made for their advent it is not surprising that they were wonderfully good babies. When it is remembered with what joy they were welcomed—welcomed while still in the first stages of foetal growth; how carefully the prospective mothers had been kept under calm, sweet and pure influences; how their minds had been kept active without taxing their strength; how constantly their souls had been bathed in the luxury of sympathy and love; how every part of their natures had been kept teeming with life—overflowing life; how carefully undue excitement had been warded off; how they were given every opportunity for cultivating the higher instincts,—the spiritual nature;—when all this is remembered we cannot help seeing that, on the principle of natural causation, the children of such mothers and of such influences could not be other than exceptionally well endowed and exceptionally well behaved.
But when the months had passed, during which the mother should give her personal care and attention to her cherished babe, it was transferred to the sole care of the experienced nurse, and she herself returned to her usual work, whatever that work might happen to be. There were so many fields open, and each made her choice. The head gardener was glad to get help in the tending and nursing of his plants and flowers. Nimble, dextrous fingers were needed to fashion the garments to be worn by the occupants of the home, and this large and beautiful home needed many willing hands to keep it beautiful. All this however was work which could be entrusted to and performed by stronger hands, if other work should prove more attractive, work in which more than ordinary intelligence and skill were required. Among our band were teachers of music and song, as might be expected of the artist soul seeking expression. Margaret had kissed her lover and baby good bye and had given another season to her loved profession, and had returned again with, O, such longing and love for the home and the circle of loved ones it contained.
But there was other work. The forty minutes required to reach the heart of the city were used by quite a number, morning and evening. In the heart of the city rose a grand emporium many stories high, where many hundreds of young women and men were employed, and which was the property of the home circle; an emporium which had been built by Norman and Lawrence and fitted up by Owen, and which was one of the largest business places in the great city; an emporium where people of all ages and sizes could purchase for themselves an outfit from the crown of their heads to the soles of their feet. There was the tailor’s department and that of the dressmaker. There the milliner fashioned pretty headgear, and there all the beautiful artificial flowers, of which countless numbers were used from week to week were made. There the visitor would go from floor to floor, from department to department, and would find every place to have its own attraction, its own work.
But the most beautiful department of them all was that of the florist, where nature’s handiwork was heaped up in wild and charming confusion, and where these floral beauties, by deft and cunning fingers, were arranged into designs without number, and in this department it was that you could see our own fair girls moving about, giving orders here, lending aid there, and again seeing that patrons were promptly served. All was life, all were busy, yet none were overworked, as none worked longer than five hours here. At seven o’clock in the morning when the doors were opened, they admitted what was termed the morning “turn.” And when twelve o’clock announced the noon hour the merry throng, laughing and singing arrayed themselves for the street and went trooping out like a merry flock of birds, for their day of work was over. It was a day’s work, and thus they were paid. With the striking of the hour of one, the afternoon “turn” began, and others filled the places of the morning workers. So the faces of the saleswomen and salesmen were always fresh and smiling, with none of that tired, wornout appearance that is so often noticeable in the young faces you meet behind the counter.
Where were all these employes housed? Heretofore as these people generally are housed. Those who still had a father or mother or both living, lived with them; in most cases large families crowded into two or three rooms. Others who were not so fortunate, had to submit to all the discomforts of cheap boarding houses, or lived in some stuffy back room or bleak attic. But a change was about to take place. Today the large business building is closed. No one moves about its wide halls and its many departments. It is a grand “fete” and gala day. Today is to be dedicated the grand new home which has been erected for them.
After two years of life in their co-operative home its inmates were convinced of its success and felt almost like thieves that they should enjoy so many privileges which were beyond the reach of those to whom they gave employment, and then the plans were made for a new home, and again Owen’s millions did service and now a beautiful and grand structure had been erected. But not so far-away from the place of work as their own. That would have been cruelty to the morning “turn” who were expected to be at their post at the hour of seven, and equally unpleasant for the afternoon “turn” as it would cause them to be late for their evening meal.
Right on the outskirts of the city, where fifteen minutes would be all that would be required to bring them back and forth, a site was bought upon the brink of the beautiful river, elevated just enough to be beyond the reach of any possible flood. A park had been laid out which in time would be one of the handsomest the city could boast of, with its miniature lakes, its splashing fountains, its dense shrubbery, its gleaming statuary and flowery banks. And right in the midst of these beautiful surroundings this monster home was built. For three long years the workmen toiled, until when finished it was the finest of its kind that fancy could depict. A place where home pleasures would be given the workers, such as they had never known; where every arrangement had been made to amuse, to instruct, to educate, to develop the inmates. It boasted of its school rooms, its college, its sculpture hall and artist’s studio, its lecture hall and theater, for which the best of traveling troupes were to be engaged, with perfect arrangements for the accommodation of those troupes. Here the players would not have to undergo the extra fatigue, after their tiresome work, to again dress for the street, catch the last cold car which was to take them to their place of lodging. No, indeed! The theater of the workers’ home was a marvel of its kind. Large, airy, comfortable and well furnished rooms were attached to it, a room to every player, so near and convenient to the stage that it was not necessary to dress in little boxes or holes for their work. Here they could dress in quiet and comfort and then rest until the signal to begin was given.
When through with their work, in the pleasant, comfortable dining room connected with the theater for the convenience of this hard-working class of people—how hard-working few, not of the profession, ever realize—a simple but refreshing repast was served, which repast was so restful and had so much of real comfort in it that the traveling bands invariably forgot that intoxicants were absent from it.
Then there was a library with its thousands of volumes containing reading matter of every kind, but always choice, always select, always instructive. A large billiard room was also there. Then came the gymnasium for the development of physical strength and where both sexes were expected to participate. There was to be a singing class and dancing school.
The baths were not forgotten. Larger, more complete than at the first home—so many more were to make use of them here.
All arrangements were complete. A large, airy hall where breakfast and the mid-day meal were to be served. But here, as in that other home, the evening meal, which would be the chief meal of the day, was to be taken amidst nature’s beauties in a large and beautiful conservatory. Owen had spent a fortune in furnishing it with the required plants which were of the rarest kinds. A miniature lake was formed in its center, wherein the little golden speckled beauties were dashing and splashing about in their merry chase. A fountain was reared in its center composed of half a dozen nude mermaids holding their hands aloft, their finger tips forming a circle from which the water was flung aloft in showering spray. Sweet voiced songsters filled the air with their thrilling music. Flowers bloomed in wild profusion; huge vases were filled with their brilliant treasures wherever they could be suitably placed.
At several places small artificial hills had been erected, ferns and grasses growing amidst the rocks. Through a small rocky ravine the water came tumbling into a basin below, forming a small lake. Palms, cactus and other plants were grouped at convenient places. Nooks and alcoves without number had been arranged wherein the tables had been placed and were now spread and awaiting the hungry guests, each table seating about a dozen and through it all rare, sweet music, coming from some hidden source lulled the tired senses to rest and quiet.
The last preparations had been made. The last garlands had been hung. To every room its inmate had been assigned, which promised them all the same sweet privacy when privacy was desired, as in the first and smaller home. Every room was furnished cozily and comfortably, and every inmate, if so they desired, could claim some musical instrument for their private use, besides which there was a music hall where first class musical instruments of all kinds abounded. A number of the best teachers had been engaged to supervise the different departments, to teach and bring to light the hidden talents that none might be lost, but all shine in their full glory.
The grounds were something wonderful, or in time would be so, when the years would have done their work. The drives were beautiful, so wide and clean. Ponds covered with waterlilies. Fountains everywhere. Lover’s nooks and cozy retreats. Plants, shrubbery and flowers in glorious profusion, and artistic designs wherever the eye might rest. Down the sloping banks of the river wide, spacious stairways of hewn stone had been made which led down beneath the laving waters. Skiffs, large and small were moored here, inviting and wooing lovers of the watery element to trust themselves to its glassy bosom, to be rocked on its silvery, rippling waves and be borne whithersoever they might wish.
Owen had made a deep hole in his millions. Lack of funds should not prevent success. And now the new inmates of this wonderful home were waiting the summons to their first evening meal. All the “salons” of the lower floors were swarming with gayly dressed maidens and with young men attired in their best. Instinctively they knew that henceforth they must always put their best efforts to the front, and the blending of youthful voices in merry laughter made the listener glad.
But not all were young that were assembled here tonight. Many there were who had seen the darker side of life and who in all probability would prefer the solitude and quiet of their own rooms to the noisy merry-making of a careless and care-free youth.
And among all those who found a home within the walls of this magnificent structure those had not been forgotten whose labor had produced it, had made it the thing of beauty it now stood. As might be expected the builders had grown to love it as they worked, and the knowledge that they should enjoy its beauties and comforts when finished had stimulated them to work more eagerly and with extra skill until the day of its completion.
But now all are ready. At last the signal is given, the doors are flung wide, and just as the music of a brass band clashes through the resounding halls, playing a march from one of the master composers, the workers, all the workers, pour into the monster conservatory.
They thought it was fairy land opened to their view, floating in a sea of light. Among the rest we see the members of our own circle, scattered about here and there, every face radiant with happiness reflected from within.
No waiters are in attendance. At every table one of the fresh young maidens plays the part of hostess. On a smaller table near at hand, all the side dishes have been arranged. Tanks with new sweet milk, ice water and hot water; nothing that is likely to be desired has been forgotten or omitted. The next evening another of the young ladies will be detailed to preside.
When supper is over the tables are let remain as they are. The day’s work is over. In the morning many busy hands will restore order, and by noon everything will again shine with tasteful beauty; the tables reset, fresh flowers filling all the vases, and the dishes awaiting refilling.
After they have all steeped their senses in the beauties of the surroundings and have satisfied the cravings of appetite the evening’s pleasures begin. Music, song and tableaux have been arranged with exquisite skill. Cora’s voice has lost none of its richness, none of its charms. On the contrary it is more flexible, more sweet and full, more perfect in every respect, and well it may be. Has she not spent two years in hard study after they came to the home, in making herself perfect in her art? At many a concert, during these years, has her sweet, thrilling voice been heard, and tonight she almost outdoes herself. She is perfectly happy and throws her whole soul into her work; deafening applause rewards her.
Margaret’s rendition of “Deborah” meets with equal favor. She never fails to please.
Then follows some renditions of music wherein Imelda and Milton both excel, for they too have been spending time in developing their precious talents.
The evening’s entertainment then concludes with a series of tableaux, three in number, entitled “Progress,” which are received with storms of applause. They represent “The Past, the Present and the Future.”
There is one feature that has not been announced upon the program. One whom we have almost forgotten to mention has opened the evening’s festivities with a short address, dwelling on the object, the aim, the hopes that are to follow the evening’s work. That one is an old time friend, probably forgotten by most of our readers. It is an old, white-haired gentleman with a well preserved air about him. It is the Mr. Roland, of the lecture room of the olden days and the fatherly friend of our Margaret and Imelda, and who is followed by another almost forgotten friend, the lecturer “Althea Wood.”
When the curtain has dropped on the last tableaux the assembled audience refuses to be satisfied. They well know whose money has erected the palatial building and “Owen Hunter! Owen Hunter!” is now the cry. In response to this call Owen steps upon the stage and in a slow, graceful manner saunters up to the footlights. Waiting for the stormy welcome to subside, then in slow even tones he begins:
“Friends and comrades! You do me far too great honor in thus calling me to the front. What you term an act of greatness is simply one of justice. No merit is due to me that I control millions of dollars while millions of my fellow human beings this night are starving. My early years were droned away in luxury, ease and pleasure hunting, and in all probability I would have gone on thus to the end had not circumstances given me a shaking up, thereby showing me something of the darker side of life.
“What these circumstances were, what the means by which the awakening was brought about I cannot here tell you. The story would be too long. But I awoke to a sense of the fact that I was of no use whatever in the world. With the aid of minds superior to mine a home was planned, one for a small number of congenial friends who wished to try co-operation, and having proved it a success, this one for the busy bees of our great industrial hive was next planned.
“You have, until now, been the employes of the ‘Home Company.’ From this day forth you are partners therein. You will receive your salaries just the same as heretofore. At the end of the year the accounts will be squared and a dividend declared with which you are to pay your rent, so-called, for your home, but which in reality you are buying. For when you have paid rent amounting to the sum it has cost to erect this building, you will be the owners of it, not I. Moreover, you shall not be taxed with a shameless interest, and when your home is paid for and the original capital again garnered in, there will be countless other employes who are in need of a home like this, and which it will devolve upon us to erect. Do you see?”
And see they do! Such deafening shouts of applause never before filled a hall. It is a perfect uproar and it takes some time ere quiet can again be restored. Owen smilingly shakes his head——
“You do me too much honor, as I have before remarked. Believe me, you have much more reason to thank the bright minds and gentle hearts of the ladies of the ‘Home’ than—
“Three cheers for the ladies!”—someone shouted, and three rousing cheers were given, and then three more, and yet again three.
Owen sees that they are getting excited, and that he will have but little chance to say more, so he determines to end it at once.
“That is all, comrades. With the best of wishes for the future well being of your home, and with the sincerest hopes for the happiness of each of you I bid you good night—as I see it written on many bright, young faces that their restless feet are anxious for the dance to begin.”
Another deafening round of applause follows. They would recall him but Owen will not respond.
The crash of music is then heard, sending forth its inviting strains, and soon the light footsteps trip to the measured chimes and the hours speed in happy merriment.
With such surroundings, such inducements, it will not be difficult to keep the young maidens fresh, healthy and pure-minded, and to keep the young men away from the influence of drink, of vice, of demoralization. No danger that they will unsex themselves through starvation of their sex natures. The needed magnetism is theirs through their constant mingling, and while this is only the beginning, while they have so much yet to learn, there is every hope, every evidence that the home will develop fine, healthy and intelligent women, strong, brave and noble men.
Already Owen has another home planned, to be situated farther out into the open country. “Products of the soil” will furnish the chief employment of this group of workers. Not all men and women prefer the bustling city life. There are many who cannot live and enjoy life away from nature. They would pine for the open air, the green fields, the cool shade of the woods. Only under the blue vault of heaven can happiness come to them. And for such as these also it is the desire of our friends to secure the advantages that only the co-operative home can supply. Owen is determined to show that his millions have not been vainly entrusted to his care, and that the advantages that wealth can procure shall be theirs to whom the wealth justly belongs—the producers.
Here we must leave the inmates of the just completed and dedicated home, on the threshold of their new life, and take one more farewell word to our friends of the “F. L.” home—the children of my fancy, who have grown under my care, and who have become inexpressibly dear to me.