of thousands of pilgrims were flocking to it from all parts of America,
and all, immediately they arrived, made straight for the house of
Alderman Fox, where dwelt Francis Schlatter, the greatest
miracle-worker of the century. For two months Denver was able to
contemplate an unparalleled variety of invalids with illnesses both
rare and common, all--or nearly all--of whom departed reassured as to
their progress, if not completely cured. The trains were overcrowded,
the hotels overflowed with visitors, and all the States rang with hymns
of praise in honour of Schlatter, the saint of Denver.

But perpetual joy is not of this world. On the 14th of November, 1895,
there were still thousands of people outside Alderman Fox's house, but
their grief and despair were pitiable to witness. The women sobbed,
the men cursed, and all this, mingled with the woeful complaints of the
sick, created an extraordinary atmosphere in the usually gay and
cheerful town.

The cause of it was that Saint Schlatter had fled from Colorado without
warning in the night--whether for a short time or for ever nobody knew.
The news spread far and wide, the affair assumed the proportions of a
public calamity, and the _Rocky Morning News_ and other Colorado
journals shed copious tears over the sad lot of the abandoned pilgrims.
Even the American newspapers, which so often foresee events that never
happen, had not been able to foresee this thunderbolt that had
descended in the midst of their readers.

On the previous day the saint had, as usual, given his blessing to the
thousands of pilgrims gathered from all quarters, and had appeared to
be in his customary state of serene kindliness. Nothing had suggested
his desertion--for the disappointed crowds considered it a desertion
indeed. Even Alderman Fox, deeply troubled as he was, could offer no
consolation to his fellow-citizens. He, who was formerly stone-deaf,
had gone one day to see Schlatter at Omaha, and when the latter took
his hand his deafness had completely disappeared. Full of gratitude,
he offered Schlatter a large sum of money, which was refused. He then
offered the hospitality of his house at Denver, and this being
accepted, Schlatter arrived there, preceded by the glory of his saintly
reputation and his miraculous cures. Two months passed thus, and never
had prophet a more devoted and enthusiastic disciple than the worthy
alderman of Colorado's capital city. Then fell the blow!

Wh