The Man in Lonely Land

by Kate Langley Bosher

  XV

  THE MAN WHO DID NOT KNOW

  "Once upon a time there was a man who had to make a journey. He didnot want very much to make it; and, not knowing whether it was to bea long journey or a short one, he did not feel a great deal ofinterest in it. Still it had to be made, and at its end he was tofind out whether he had been a good traveler, or a bad one.

  "For a long time he did not notice very closely the road he was on.He had been so busy getting ready, first at school, where he studieda great many books that he might be better prepared for traveling,and then in business, where money must be made to give him comfortand pleasure on the way, that he did not have time to look aroundvery much; but after a while he saw that the road was getting verydull and dusty, that most of the flowers were faded and the fruitswere not sweet and the birds did not sing as they had sung when firsthe started out.

  "A great many people had been traveling the same way he had. Thoughthey seemed to be having a good time, he had soon seen that most ofit was make-believe, and that much of their energy was spent intrying to find something to play with, that they might forget whatkind of journey they were on. He did not like these people veryspecially. He did not know any others, however, and he had kept upwith them because they had started out together; but, little bylittle, he had slipped away from them, and after a while he foundthat he was walking most of the time by himself. At first he did notmind. The things his friends cared for and talked about did notgreatly interest him, and then it was he began to remember that agood many things he had been passing were ugly and cruel, and bitterand unjust. He could not understand why some should travel inluxurious ease while others could hardly get along, their burdenswere so great; why some rode in carriages, and others, sick andhungry and tired and cold, could never stop lest they die upon theroad; and why some sang and others wept.

  "In groups and pairs, and sometimes one by one, they passed him, andas they went by he would look into their faces to see why they weretraveling; but, like him, they did not know, they only knew they mustkeep on. And then one day he saw he had come back to where hisjourney had begun. He had been on the road to Nowhere--the road thatwound round and round."

  "Just like travelers in the desert." Dorothea's eyes made effort toopen, but sleepily they closed again. "Why didn't he ask somebodythe way?"

  "He didn't think any one knew. He was much wiser than most of thepeople who passed him. To many who seemed to be in need he had givenmoney; he was very generous, very kind, and he gave freely; but healways turned his head away when he gave. He did not like to seesuffering and sorrow; and with sin of certain sorts he had nosympathy, and so he would not look. But after a while he had to look.

  "He was standing at the place from which he had started, and, to hissurprise, he saw what he had never seen before. Out from its centerled all sorts of roads that stretched beyond sight, and on each ofthem people were traveling, all kinds of people, and he knew he couldno longer stand still. He must take one of these roads, but whichone he did not know. As he stood uncertain what to do, he felt someone touch him; and, looking down, he saw a child; and into his stronghand the child slipped his little one.

  "'I have been waiting for you,' he said. 'I have been waiting along, long time.'

  "'For me?' The man drew back. 'You can't have been waiting for me.I do not know you, child!'

  "He heard a little sigh, as soft as the stir of wings, and again theboy smiled.

  "'But I know you. There is much for you to do.'

  "Again the man held back. 'There is nothing for me to do. I pay mytaxes and give my tithes, and let the world alone.'

  "'You cannot let the world alone. It is your world.' The boy lookedup. 'Come, they are waiting.'

  "'Who is waiting?'

  "'Your people.'

  "'I have no people. There is no one waiting for me.'

  "The child shook his head. 'You do not know your people, and theyare waiting. We must hurry, the time is short. We will go on thisroad first, and then on that, and then on that and that and that. Oneach one they are waiting.'

  "All through the night they traveled, uphill and down, and in and outof narrow paths and hidden places, and everywhere he saw them, thepeople he had never known. Into the darkness of pits and mines, intothe fires of foundries and furnaces, into the factories where wheelsturned night and day, and into the holds of the ships of the sea, thechild led him to show him the people who were his. In cellars andgarrets, in jails and prisons, in shops and stores, in hunger andcold, in the silence of sickness, the noise of sin, they were waitingfor his coming; and in their faces was that which made him cover his,and he begged the child to take him where breath could come again.

  "But the child held his hand still tighter. 'You have traveled longand you have not known,' he said. 'You helped to make things as theyare, and now you must see.'

  "'I helped to make things as they are? I have not even dreamed suchthings could be!'

  "'I know. And that is why I came. They are your people; and you didnot know.'

  "And then the child took him on another road, one that was smooth andsoft, and the air that blew over it was warm and fragrant. On it thewomen wore jewels and laces and gorgeous gowns; and men threw goldaway to see it shine in the sunlight, threw it that others might seethem throw.

  "'Why do we come here?' the man asked. 'They are not waiting. Theydo not need.'

  "The child looked up in his face. 'They, too, are waiting--for someone to let them know. And they, too, need, for hearts hurteverywhere. Sometimes the loneliest ones are here.'

  "Before answer could be made, the main road was left, and in a tinyby-path they heard the laughter of children's voices; and, lookingahead, they saw a little house with wreaths in the windows throughwhich the glow of firelight sent threads of dancing light upon thesnow, and the door was open.

  "'We will go in,' said the child, 'for there is welcome.'

  "Inside, the mother and the father and all the children were hangingholly on the walls and bringing bundles and boxes and queer-shapedpackages from the other rooms and hiding them under chairs and tablesand in out-of-the-way places; and presently a row of stockings washung from the chimneypiece, and the children clapped their hands anddanced round and round the room. And then they threw their armsaround their father and mother and kissed them good night and leftthem that Kris Kringle might come in.

  "'They have no money, but are very rich,' said the child. 'They lovemuch.'

  "Over long roads and short ones, over some that were dark and somethat were bright, they went their way, and presently they came to ashabby, snow-covered street where children were pressing their facesagainst shop-windows, and men and women were hurrying in and out ofcrowded stores; and the child loosened his hold upon the man's hand.'I must go now,' he said.

  "'Oh no, you must not go!' Quickly the man reached for him. 'Youmust not go. I do not even know your name!'

  "The child shook his head. 'I cannot stay. And some day you willknow my name.'

  "'But why did you come? If you must leave me, why did you come?'

  "'Why did I come?' In the crowd he was slipping away, but the lightin his face streamed through it. 'I came to bring Good-Will to men.I came that Men might Know.'"