The Clarion   By: Samuel Hopkins Adams (1871-1958)

THE CLARION

BY

SAMUEL HOPKINS ADAMS

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W.D. STEVENS

Published October 1914

TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER MYRON ADAMS WHO LIVED AND DIED A SOLDIER OF IDEALS THIS BOOK IS REVERENTLY INSCRIBED

CONTENTS

I. THE ITINERANT

II. OUR LEADING CITIZEN

III. ESMÉ

IV. THE SHOP

V. THE SCION

VI. LAUNCHED

VII. THE OWNER

VIII. A PARTNERSHIP

IX. GLIMMERINGS

X. IN THE WAY OF TRADE

XI. THE INITIATE

XII. THE THIN EDGE

XIII. NEW BLOOD

XIV. THE ROOKERIES

XV. JUGGERNAUT

XVI. THE STRATEGIST

XVII. REPRISALS

XVIII. MILLY

XIX. DONNYBROOK

XX. THE LESSER TEMPTING

XXI. THE POWER OF PRINT

XXII. PATRIOTS

XXIII. CREEPING FLAME

XXIV. A FAILURE IN TACTICS

XXV. STERN LOGIC

XXVI. THE PARTING

XXVII. THE GREATER TEMPTING

XXVIII. "WHOSE BREAD I EAT"

XXIX. CERTINA CHARLEY

XXX. ILLUMINATION

XXXI. THE VOICE OF THE PROPHET

XXXII. THE WARNING

XXXIII. THE GOOD FIGHT

XXXIV. VOX POPULI

XXXV. TEMPERED METAL

XXXVI. THE VICTORY

XXXVII. MCGUIRE ELLIS WAKES UP

XXXVIII. THE CONVERT

ILLUSTRATIONS

"THEN IT'S ALL LIES! LIES AND MURDER!"

HELP AND CURE ARE AT THEIR BECK AND CALL

"KILL IT," SHE URGED SOFTLY

"DON'T GO NEAR HIM. DON'T LOOK"

THE CLARION

CHAPTER I

THE ITINERANT

Between two flames the man stood, overlooking the crowd. A soft breeze, playing about the torches, sent shadows billowing across the massed folk on the ground. Shrewdly set with an eye to theatrical effect, these phares of a night threw out from the darkness the square bulk of the man's figure, and, reflecting garishly upward from the naked hemlock of the platform, accentuated, as in bronze, the bosses of the face, and gleamed deeply in the dark, bold eyes. Half of Marysville buzzed and chattered in the park space below, together with many representatives of the farming country near by, for the event had been advertised with skilled appeal: cf. the "Canoga County Palladium," April 15, 1897, page 4.

The occupant of the platform, having paused, after a self introductory trumpeting of professional claims, was slowly and with an eye to oratorical effect moistening lips and throat from a goblet at his elbow. Now, ready to resume, he raised a slow hand in an indescribable gesture of mingled command and benevolence. The clamor subsided to a murmur, over which his voice flowed and spread like oil subduing vexed waters.

"Pain. Pain. Pain. The primal curse, the dominant tragedy of life. Who among you, dear friends, but has felt it? You men, slowly torn upon the rack of rheumatism; you women, with the hidden agony gnawing at your breast" (his roving regard was swift, like a hawk, to mark down the sudden, involuntary quiver of a faded slattern under one of the torches); "all you who have known burning nights and pallid mornings, I offer you r r r release!"

On the final word his face lighted up as from an inner fire of inspiration, and he flung his arms wide in an embracing benediction. The crowd, heavy eyed, sodden, wondering, bent to him as the torch fires bent to the breath of summer. With the subtle sense of the man who wrings his livelihood from human emotions, he felt the moment of his mastery approaching. Was it fully come yet? Were his fish securely in the net? Betwixt hovering hands he studied his audience.