That Printer of Udell's: A Story of the Middle West

by Harold Bell Wright

Just then the assembly was called to order, and the two men dropped into seats near the rear entrance.

The president stated the object of the meeting and reviewed the action of the previous one at the Zion Church, where Cameron had spoken, strongly emphasizing the fact that this was not a meeting of the young people's societies only, but that every one present was to have a share in it, and all should feel free to express themselves either by voice or ballot. "Mr. Richard Falkner, the chairman of the committee, will make the report, and at their request, will speak for a few moments on the subject."

As Dick arose from his place in the rear of the stage and stepped forward, the saloon keeper turned to his companion, and in a loud whisper said, "Say, aint he that bum printer of Udell's?"

The other nodded and then replied, as his companion began to speak again, "Shut up, let's hear what he is going to say."

As Dick came slowly forward to the front of the rostrum, and stood for a moment as though collecting himself, the audience, to a man almost, echoed the thought that the saloon keeper had so roughly expressed. "Could it be possible that this was the poor tramp who had once gone from door to door seeking a chance to earn a crust of bread?" And then as they looked at the calm, clear-cut, determined features, and the tall, well-built figure, neatly clothed in a business suit of brown, they burst into involuntary applause. A smile crept over Dick's face as he bowed his handsome head in grateful acknowledgment. And then he held up his hand for silence.

Instantly a hush fell over the audience, and in a moment they were listening, with intense interest, to the voice of the once tramp printer.

"Our president has already detailed to you an account of the meeting preceding this. You understand that I am but the mouthpiece of the council appointed at that time, and that I do but speak their will, their thoughts, their aims, as they have voiced them in our meetings."

He then told of the methods adopted by the committee, of the help they had received, and how they had at last decided upon the report which he was about to submit; then carefully detailed the plan, enlarging upon the outlines as he proceeded. Drawing upon the mass of information gathered in the few weeks, he painted the city in its true colors, as shown in the light of their investigation; and then held out the wonderful promises of the plan for the future.

As he talked, Dick forgot himself, and forgot his audience. He saw only the figure of the Christ, and heard Him say, "Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these, my Brethren, ye did it unto me." While his hearers sat lost to the surroundings under the magic spell of his eloquence; an eloquence that even his most intimate friends never dreamed that he possessed.

Charlie Bowen was enraptured. Clara Wilson wept and laughed and wept again. Uncle Bobbie could only say, "I jing," and "To-be-sure," while George Udell sat in wonder. Could this splendid man who, with his flashing eye and glowing face, with burning words and graceful gestures, was holding that immense audience subject to his will, could this be the wretched creature who once fell at his feet fainting with hunger? "Truly," he thought, "the possibilities of life are infinite. The power of the human soul cannot be measured, and no man guesses the real strength of his closest friend."