Long before the year 1904 drew to its close a great change had taken place in my life. The feminine disposition of my aunt to make matrimonial matches had been successful in throwing me into the society of Miss Caroline Woodberry and after the ride to Canyon Lake, of which I have already made mention, I was with her whenever leisure and opportunity permitted.
In Co-opolis there were in all seasons amusements and entertainments of every kind, and if we tired of one we were not at a loss for diversion which, while it could not increase the happiness I found in the young lady’s society, aided me in administering to her pleasure. Society in Co-opolis was even then refined and intelligent. I do not mean to leave the impression that our people had in six years acquired all the arts and foibles which fashionable society in eastern cities mistake for refinement, but it really was wonderful to see what improvement prosperity had produced in the manner, bearing and language of most of our people. While it is possible that such prosperity in the competitive system, would have caused many to develop the worst traits of their character, yet the absence of all opportunity to amass a fortune in speculation or by gambling methods in the co-operative system insured to each the enjoyment of his own portion. Nobody was or could be purse proud. Nobody was or could be dependent upon charity. Nobody had occasion to be ashamed of his material condition.
Good clothes, ornaments, books, pleasant homes and all the conveniences of modern life were within the reach of all.
Humanity is so constituted, however, that its members must compete, contend and battle with one another.
What shall be the field for this competition? Over what shall the race contend? Where shall be the battle ground?
Some philosophers in times past taught that the race must fall into decay, dwindle into weakness and lose individuality if it was removed from the struggle for potatoes, meat and coffee. They, perhaps, honestly believed that it was fatal to progress to raise mankind to an elevated plane and let the battle be waged for moral, intellectual and perhaps spiritual supremacy. In Co-opolis our system eliminated the mere material world as an object of competition, and pursuing the law of our nature, we sought to excel in intellectual pursuits, matters of taste, athletics and what tended to personal improvement. It was not long before the Co-opolitan began to be known as being possessed of good manners, taste in matters of dress and even polish. These were not pronounced characteristics for many years after, but I sometimes thought I could see them developing. One people from whom, in part, at least, the incentive to acquire and own things had been largely removed, lost in a measure the cheating, lying, cunning and overreaching habits of that delusive and obstructing thing called business. Co-opolitans, six years after the city was founded, habitually told one another the truth.
Sets and circles existed then, as now, in Co-opolitan society. Men and women always will choose their own companions and some common interest will always operate to form them into associations. If some of the potato diggers discover that potato digging is not all there is of life those will probably come to recognize in one another kindred spirits whose kinship is closer than that of the uninitiated and the circle is evolved. I was one of a circle or set and Miss Woodberry was a member of that circle, too. There were literary gatherings, card parties, socials and all sorts of meetings in winter, and lawn parties, dinners, dances and all sorts of pleasures in summer. It must be admitted that our social circle was generally regarded as somewhat select in a literary sense, because some of the brightest minds in Co-opolis were members. This did not exclude us from the pleasures which I have mentioned, but it gave our circle a somewhat sombre rather than gay reputation. We were just as popular, however, as any other set, and by no means assumed to be better than our neighbors.
Miss Woodberry was not a member of the Industrial Army, and one of the great questions which we often discussed was whether she should become such. This question grew more than ever urgent when we decided that we were sufficiently attached to each other to become husband and wife. Attached to each other! That sounds and reads mechanical enough to describe the gluing together of two blocks of wood, and I have no doubt that because this is, in the main, an historical work and only incidentally biographical, it is all the warmth I am expected to express. I beg pardon! But this lady has been my wife now thirty years and a better wife no mortal man ever had. Attached to her! Why! I was so thoroughly and passionately devoted to her that I came very near incurring the censure of my department associates and being subjected to the operation of the Imperative Mandate on the charge of inattention to business, but escaped, because, as I suppose, “the whole world loves a lover,” and my attachment was not successfully concealed. Be that as it may, after we were engaged to be married, Miss Woodberry became curious to know what her fate would be; she had accepted me without much regard to consequences. Now, after the acceptance, when the consequences were close at hand, she became more solicitous to understand her position. She had only been a visitor in Co-opolis and had been a guest of the Prestons, whom I have already described as my near neighbors. During this visit she had been engaged in writing a novel, which she read as the chapters were completed to me. I was impressed with its merit and believed some of its passages breathed the spirit of genius. However, although I judged myself a dispassionate and unsparing critic, I would not trust my judgment upon the production of one who was prejudiced in her favor. I persuaded her to allow me to submit her manuscript to a committee of my department for its criticism, with a view to arranging for its publication under the auspices of the Co-opolitan Association. As this committee had proven whenever it deemed a work sufficiently meritorious to warrant it, to proceed with its publication and defray the expenses from the so-called publication fund, it occurred to me that, if my judgment should be approved, this novel could be published by our department and would distinguish the admission of its author into the Association. We had, up to that time, never undertaken the publication of a novel, but our plant was sufficiently extensive and commodious to enable us to do so. Hitherto we were contented to confine our publications to text books for our schools, a monthly magazine devoted to co-operation, the Daily Co-opolitan and a large number of pamphlets. To my great joy the committee, composed of the very brightest literary men in the city, including our educational chief, Mr. Edmunds, pronounced it a production of such merit as to be worthy of publication at the public expense. I had not disclosed to them the name of the author and they supposed it was some member.
On the evening of the day when this decision was communicated to me I went over to the Preston cottage to see my affianced and tell her the result of my venture with the committee. She was delighted with the news. It was her first novel, and to find that the committee had received it with favor was an event which, as she often told me, gave her more genuine pleasure than anything ever did before or has since. We spent an hour or more that evening talking over the novel, its characters and plot.
The name was “The West Parish.” The opening scene was laid in the West Parish of Gloucester, Cape Ann, Essex County, Massachusetts. There were, as everybody knows, wonderful descriptions of white sandy beaches, the blue old ocean, ships sailing, marshes and sea birds a-wing. There were two little boys and an old aunt. The former were orphans, the latter infirm and impoverished, but doing her best, which was as bad as could be, to keep the little ones alive. Their father had been a railroad engineer, but a series of misfortunes deprived him of his savings, and then, in one of the perils common to his dangerous employment, he was killed and the mother soon after died.