The principal idea of the work is to show the people their power, wherein it lies, and the methods of exercising it to right their grievances, if they feel that such exist.
If I succeed in bringing all who read these pages to a full understanding of the power of the people, and how to use that power, and wherein lies the basis, the very foundation, of our institutions, I shall be content, even though they do not agree with this story as to the extent of existing evils, or the measures it inaugurates to alleviate them. While endeavoring to clothe my ideas in an interesting and readable narrative, some exaggerations have been made; yet, in confidence to the reader, it must be said that, in the main, I believe in every line of the work; in the principle of every reform proposed; in every change pictured and result prophesied. Indeed, I can see no other road for a law-abiding, intelligent and prosperous people to travel, and no other possible destination to be reached, than the one herein imperfectly portrayed.
A LAW-ABIDING REVOLUTIONIST.
THE LEGAL REVOLUTION OF 1902.
CHAPTER I.
“Well, mother, I’ll run down and get the mail,” said John Brown to his wife, as he started for the village postoffice. On arriving there he found his “grist” of daily papers that regularly visited his home, and also two letters. One was addressed “Hon. John Brown, Member of the Illinois Legislature.” He looked at it and incidentally remarked to a friend with whom he was conversing: “I wonder who that is from—‘Return in five days to Mark Mishler, Attorney-at-Law, Springfield, Ill.’; I guess it is not of much importance to me; I don’t know any such person.” And with that he put it, unopened, into his pocket, and looked at the other.
“Indeed, New York, from brother Benjamin! I haven’t heard from him in a long time. Mother and I were just talking about him and wondering if he had forgotten us. She’ll want to hear the news, and I had better go right back to the house,” and he started, carrying the letter and papers in his hand. It was but a few minutes’ walk, and he was soon home.
“See here, mother, a letter from Ben,” he said, starting to tear it open.
“Is it possible!” she exclaimed, with considerable surprise; “we haven’t heard from him since his wife died. He is no hand to write, and I’ll warrant it is news of importance; probably sad news, or we wouldn’t hear from him now. You remember he never wrote us that Glen (his only child) was born until he was two years old. Of course he wrote during that time, but never mentioned that fact, and it was so strange, since he always writes so much about him now, when he writes at all.”
By this time the letter was opened, the spectacles adjusted to his nose, and Mr. Brown began to read: