The Calling of Dan Matthews | Page 2

city, or the
Capitalist from Somewhere-else arrives to invest in vacant lots, thereon
to build new hotels and business blocks.
The Doctor says that in the whole history of Corinth there are only two
events. The first was the coming of the railroad; the second was the
death of the Doctor's good friend, the Statesman.
The railroad did not actually enter Corinth. It stopped at the front gate.
But with Judge Strong's assistance the fathers and mothers recognized
their "golden opportunity" and took the step which the eloquent Judge
assured them would result in a "glorious future." They left the beautiful,
well-drained site chosen by those who cleared the wilderness, and
stretched themselves out along the mud-flat on either side of the sacred
right-of-way--that same mud-flat being, incidentally, the property of

the patriotic Judge.
Thus Corinth took the railroad to her heart, literally. The depot, the
yards, the red section-house and the water-tank are all in the very center
of the town. Every train while stopping for water (and they all stop)
blocks two of the three principal streets. And when, after waiting in the
rain or snow until his patience is nearly exhausted, the humble
Corinthian goes to the only remaining crossing, he always gets there
just in time to meet a long freight backing onto the siding. Nowhere in
the whole place can one escape the screaming whistle, clanging bell,
and crashing drawbar. Day and night the rumble of the heavy trains jars
and disturbs the peacefulness of the little village.
But the railroad did something for Corinth; not too much, but
something. It did more for Judge Strong. For a time the town grew
rapidly. Fulfillment of the Judge's prophecies seemed immediate and
certain. Then, as mysteriously as they had come, the boom days
departed. The mills, factories and shops that were going to be,
established themselves elsewhere. The sound of the builder's hammer
was no longer heard. The Doctor says that Judge Strong had come to
believe in his own prediction, or at least, fearing that his prophecy
might prove true, refused to part with more land except at prices that
would be justified only in a great metropolis.
Neighboring towns that were born when Corinth was middle-aged,
flourished and have become cities of importance. The country round
about has grown rich and prosperous. Each year more and heavier
trains thunder past on their way to and from the great city by the distant
river, stopping only to take water. But in this swiftly moving stream of
life Corinth is caught in an eddy. Her small world has come to swing in
a very small circle--it can scarcely be said to swing at all. The very
children stop growing when they become men and women, and are
content to dream the dreams their fathers' fathers dreamed, even as they
live in the houses the fathers of their fathers built. Only the trees that
line the unpaved streets have grown--grown and grown until overhead
their great tops touch to shut out the sky with an arch of green, and
their mighty trunks crowd contemptuously aside the old sidewalks,

with their decayed and broken boards.
Old Town, a mile away, is given over to the negroes. The few buildings
that remain are fallen into ruin, save as they are patched up by their
dusky tenants. And on the hill, the old Academy with its broken
windows, crumbling walls, and fallen chimneys, stands a pitiful witness
of an honor and dignity that is gone.
Poor Corinth! So are gone the days of her true glory--the glory of her
usefulness, while the days of her promised honor and power are not yet
fulfilled.
And because the town of this story is what it is, there came to dwell in
it a Spirit--a strange, mysterious power--playful, vicious, deadly; a
Something to be at once feared and courted; to be denied--yet
confessed in the denial; a dreaded enemy, a welcome friend, an
all-powerful Ally.
But, for Corinth, the humiliation of her material failure is forgotten in
her pride of a finer success. The shame of commercial and civic
obscurity is lost in the light of national recognition. And that
self-respect and pride of place, without which neither man nor town can
look the world in the face, is saved to her by the Statesman.
Born in Corinth, a graduate of the old Academy, town clerk, mayor,
county clerk, state senator, congressman, his zeal in advocating a much
discussed issue of his day, won for him national notice, and for his
town everlasting fame.
In this man unusual talents were combined with rare integrity of
purpose and purity of life. Politics to him meant a way whereby he
might serve his fellows. However much men differed as to the value of
the measures for which