facts concerning the town. One of the first things he did was to buy an
accurate map of the place. He hung it up on the wall of his study, and
in after days found occasion to make good use of it. He spent his
afternoons walking over the town. He noted with special interest and
earnestness the great brick mills by the river, five enormous structures
with immense chimneys, out of which poured great volumes of smoke.
Something about the mills fascinated him. They seemed like monsters of
some sort, grim, unfeeling, but terrible. As one walked by them he
seemed to feel the throbbing of the hearts of live creatures. The
unpainted tenements, ugly in their unfailing similarity, affected Philip
with a sense of almost anger. He had a keen and truthful taste in
matters of architecture, and those boxes of houses offended every
artistic and home-like feeling in him. Coming home one day past the
tenements he found himself in an unknown street, and for the curiosity
of it he undertook to count the saloons on the street in one block.
There were over twelve. There was a policeman on the corner as Philip
reached the crossing, and he inquired of the officer if he could tell
him who owned the property in the block containing the saloons.

"I believe most of the houses belong to Mr. Winter, sir."

"Mr. William Winter?" asked Philip.

"Yes, I think that's his name. He is the largest owner in the Ocean Mill
yonder."

Philip thanked the man and went on toward home. "William Winter!" he
exclaimed. "Is it possible that man will accept a revenue from the
renting of his property to these vestibules of hell? That man! One of
the leading members in my church! Chairman of the board of trustees and