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How to Build a Business
Rules Engine
E X T E N D I N G A P P L I C AT I O N F U N C T I O N A L I T Y T H R O U G H
M E TA D ATA E N G I N E E R I N G
This Page Intentionally Left Blank
How to Build a Business
Rules Engine
E X T E N D I N G A P P L I C AT I O N F U N C T I O N A L I T Y T H R O U G H
M E TA D ATA E N G I N E E R I N G

Malcolm Chisholm

AMSTERDAM • BOSTON • HEIDELBERG

LONDON • NEW YORK • OXFORD
PARIS • SAN DIEGO • SAN FRANCISCO
SINGAPORE • SYDNEY • TOKYO
Morgan Kaufmann is an imprint of Elsevier
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Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks or registered
trademarks. In all instances in which Morgan Kaufmann Publishers is aware of a claim, the product names appear
in initial capital or all capital letters. Readers, however, should contact the appropriate companies for more
complete information regarding trademarks and registration.

Morgan Kaufmann Publishers

An imprint of Elsevier
500 Sansome Street, Suite 400
San Francisco, CA 94111
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Copyright 2004, Elsevier Science (USA). All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any
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Publisher.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2003107473

ISBN: 1-55860-918-0

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

COVER IMAGES Artville LLC. Illustration by Johnathan Evans.

To my wife, children, and parents for their
unconditional love and support.
This Page Intentionally Left Blank
CONTENTS

FOREWORD xvii

INTRODUCTION xix
Audience xxii
Organization xxiii
The Sample Application xxiv

Chapter 1: WHAT ARE BUSINESS RULES AND

BUSINESS RULES ENGINES? 1
Business Rules 1
Business Rules Engines 3
Business Rules in Business Rule Engines 4
Where Do Business Rules Come From? 4
Conclusion 7

Chapter 2: WHY BUILD A BUSINESS RULES ENGINE? 9

Cost and Scale 10
Building Software for Diverse Environments 11
Total Integration of Software 13
Specificity of Rules 15
Extension of Applications 16
How Easy Is It to Build a Rules Engine? 17
Conclusion 18

Chapter 3: DATA MODELING AND DATABASE DESIGN 21

Attributes and Entities 22
Relationships 23

vii
viii CONTENTS

Subtype Relationships 26
Conclusion 28

Chapter 4: WHO DEFINES BUSINESS RULES AND

WHEN DO THEY DO IT? 29
The Actors 29
Business Analysts 30
System Operators 31
Consultants 31
Business Knowledge Workers 32
Business Senior Management 33
Information Technology Staff 33
Programmers 33
When Are Rules Defined? 34
Rules Known in Advance 34
Rules Defined at Implementation 34
Business Changes in Production Systems 36
What Kinds of Organizations Need a Business Rules Approach? 37
Invariant Transactions 37
Software Packages 38
Contract-Based Businesses 38
One-to-One Marketing 39
Intensively Rules-Based Activities 39
Conclusion 39

Chapter 5: THE ATOMICITY OF BUSINESS RULES 41

What Is Atomicity? 41
Constraints 42
Calculations and Derivations 43
Inferences 45
Levels of Abstraction of Business Rules and Rule Dependencies 45
Is Atomicity Important? 48
Implications of Atomicity—More Columns 49
Implications of Atomicity—Intermediate Results 53
When Are Calculations Atomic? 54
Conclusion 54

Chapter 6: THE BLACK BOX PROBLEM 55

User Resistance to Business Rules Engines 56
User Duplication of Rules 56
How, Not What 57
 CONTENTS ix

What Are the Rules? 58

Inflexibility beyond Rules 58
Support for the Users 59
Reliance on IT Personnel 59
Seeing Is Believing 60
Auditability 60
Conclusion 61

Chapter 7: THE COMPONENTS OF A BUSINESS

RULES ENGINE 63
The Rules Engine Components 63
The Business Rules Repository 64
Application Database Metadata 65
Business Processes 66
Rule Definitions 68
Rule Definition Interface and Executable Business Rules 70
Code Generation Routines 74
Direct Interpretation of Rules 75
Code Generation: Interpretive versus Compiled Programming Languages 79
Code Generation: What Does It Mean? 80
Rule Invocation Interface 84
Administrative Tools 84
Conclusion 85

Chapter 8: POPULATING TABLE DATA IN THE REPOSITORY 87

The Table Entity 88
Table Physical Name 88
Issues with Table ID as the Primary Key 90
Entity Name 91
Entity Definition 92
Table Type 92
Data Model Entity ID 93
Summary of Design for Table Entity 94
Extracting Table Data from the Data Modeling Tool 94
Create ERWin 3.5.2 Extract Report File 95
Create ERWin 4.1 Extract Report File 97
Importing ERWin 3.5.2 Table Metadata into the Repository 101
Importing ERWin 4.1 Table Metadata into the Repository 104
Updating the TAB_TABLE_M Table 107
Screen Interface for Updating Table Metadata 108
Conclusion 110
x CONTENTS

Chapter 9: POPULATING COLUMN DATA IN THE

REPOSITORY 111
Column Entity 112
Column ID 112
Column Physical Name 113
Datatype 115
Column Datatype Length 119
Precision and Scale 119
Attribute Logical Name 119
Attribute Definition 120
Primary Key Indicator 121
Foreign Key Indicator 121
User-Defined Column Indicator 122
Table Physical Name 122
Foreign Key Parent Table 122
Foreign Key Parent Column ID 122
Foreign Key Parent Column Physical Name 122
Design Review 123
Extracting Column Data from a Data Modeling Tool 125
Create ERWin 3.5.2 Extract Report File 125
Create ERWin 4.1 Extract Report File 127
Importing ERWin 3.5.2 Column Metadata into the Repository 129
Importing ERWin 4.1 Column Metadata into the Repository 132
Updating the COL_COLUMN_M Table 133
Screen Interface for Updating Table Metadata 140
Conclusion 144

Chapter 10: POPULATING RELATIONSHIP AND

SUBTYPE DATA IN THE REPOSITORY 145
The Relationship Entity 145
The Relationship Key Attribute Entity 147
Changes to Column Entity for Relationship Information 148
Relationships and Hidden Subtypes 149
The Subtype Entity 152
Relationships with Subtypes 156
Impact of Managing Relationships for Hidden Subtypes 157
Extracting Relationship Data from the Data Modeling Tool 159
Create ERWin 3.5.2 Extract Report File 159
Create ERWin 4.1 Extract Report File 161
Importing ERWin 3.5.2 Relationship Metadata into the Repository 166
 CONTENTS xi

Importing ERWin 4.1 Relationship Metadata into the Repository 167

Updating the REL_RELATIONSHIP_M Table 168
Updating Column Information 174
Editing Relationships 174
Pathways 178
Defining Subtypes 183
Conclusion 185

Chapter 11: POPULATING REFERENCE DATA

IN THE REPOSITORY 187
Standards for Reference Data 188
Extending the Table Entity 189
Extending the Column Entity 189
Populating the Reference Data Metadata 190
Reference Data Default Values 193
Conclusion 197

Chapter 12: DEFINING BUSINESS PROCESSES

AND RELATED INFORMATION 199
Extensions to Business Rules Repository 200
Business Processes 202
Business Process Implementation 205
Screen 205
Business Process Step 206
Business Rule Types 208
Conclusion 209

Chapter 13: EXTENDING THE DATABASE 211

Limits of Database Extension 213
Adding New Columns to Existing Tables 215
Identifying the Target Table 216
Displaying the Structure of the Target Table 220
Adding a New Column 223
Updating the Repository for the New Column 228
Modifying an Existing Column 228
Deleting Columns 228
Updating the Repository after Dropping the Column 232
Dealing with Database Administrators 234
Conclusion 236
xii CONTENTS

Chapter 14: MANAGING THE DATABASE 237

Viewing the Database Tables 238
Displaying Logical or Physical Names 238
Order of Columns 244
Sort Order of Data 246
Dealing with Large Numbers of Records 251
Detailed Record Display 252
Record Numbers and Problems with Record Selection 252
Displaying the Detailed Record 257
Synchronizing the Database and Business Rules Repository 263
Conclusion 277

Chapter 15: IMPLEMENTING A SIMPLE BUSINESS RULE 279

Rules Definition Interface 279
Defining Rules for the Investment Screen 281
Basic Repository Design for Holding Business Rules Metadata 282
Accessing the Rules Definition Interface for Rule Type Required
Screen Fields 288
Interface to Define Rule Type for Required Screen Fields 290
Preliminary Processing 292
Details of the Rule Definition Interface 293
Integrating the Business Rules into the Application Screen 295
Generating the Code 298
The Generated Code 309
When Should Code Be Generated? 313
Examples of Business Rules 316
Design Review 321
Conclusion 321

Chapter 16: MORE EDIT VALIDATION RULES, RULE

COMPONENTS, AND RULE VERSIONS 325
Valid Datatypes for Screen Fields 325
Rule Definition Interface for Valid Datatypes for Screen Fields 327
Screen Fields Valid Ranges 330
Introducing Rule Components 330
Introducing Rule Versions 335
Design for Rule Versions 335
Creating New Versions 338
Implementing the Rule Type for Screen Fields Valid Ranges 339
Conclusion 346
 CONTENTS xiii

Chapter 17: RULE TYPES FOR CHECKING REFERENTIAL

INTEGRITY 347
Prevention of Duplicate Records 349
Building the Rule Type for Check for Duplicate Records 350
Introducing the Temporary Business Rule Component Table and
Multiuser Considerations 353
Duplicate Rule Detection 354
More Advanced Rule Deletion 355
Generating Code to Check for Duplicate Records 357
Referential Integrity for Dependent Records 360
Rule Definition Interface for Referential Integrity for Dependent Records 361
Code Generation for Referential Integrity for Dependent Records 363
Conclusion 366

Chapter 18: WORKING WITH BATCH PROCESSES:

SETTING INDICATORS AND REFERENCE
DATA CODE VALUES 367
Setting a Value for an Indicator 368
Selecting the Rule Type 369
The Rule Type Definition Screen 371
Using Pathways 376
Changes to Repository Tables 379
Updating the Subtype Table 381
Deleting a Rule 381
Code Generation Strategy in Batch Processes 382
Rule Dependency and Rule Firing Sequence 383
Generated Code for Simple Set An Indicator Rule 387
Using Pathways in Generated Code 390
Setting a Reference Data Table Value 395
Additions to the Repository 397
Selecting a Rule 398
The Rule Definition Interface Screen 400
Code Generation 401
Conclusion 404

Chapter 19: IMPLEMENTING RULE TYPES USING

RELATIONSHIPS AND SUBTYPES 407
Definition Interface for Pay Pro Rata from Fund to Investment 410
Understanding Rule Types 412
Code Generation for Pay Pro Rata from Fund to Investment 414
xiv CONTENTS

Using Subtypes in the Rule Type 417

Conclusion 420

Chapter 20: RULES WITH SUBTYPES AND

BUSINESS METADATA 421
Calculate A Fee 421
Setting Up the Rule Type and Selecting a Target Column 423
The Rule Definition Interface 424
Repository Design Changes 425
Subtypes in Calculate A Fee 427
Conclusion 427

Chapter 21: DEBUGGING IN BUSINESS RULES ENGINES 431

Viewing Data 431
Logging Rules Activity 433
Implementing Logging 436
Control of Logging 440
Viewing the Log 441
Conclusion 442

Chapter 22: MANAGING THE BUSINESS RULES ENGINE 443

Rules Reports 444
Rules Sequence within Business Process Step 444
Usage of Business Rules within Business Process Steps 444
Column Reports 446
Columns Targeted by Business Rules 446
Usage of Columns in Rules 447
Usage of Columns in Business Process Steps 448
User-Defined Columns Control Report 448
Subtype Reports 449
Subtypes without Rules to Identify Them 449
Subtypes and Reference Data Values 449
Use of Subtypes in Rules 450
Relationship Reports 450
Lists of Relationships 451
User-Defined Relationships 451
Use of Relationships in Rules 451
Business-Specific Reporting 451
Conclusion 453
 CONTENTS xv

Appendix A: USING THE SAMPLE APPLICATION 455

Installing the Sample Application 455
Database Tables Relevant to the Business 458
The Menu System 461
Application Functions 461
Database Maintenance 461
Business Rules 461
Repository Functions 461
Modules of the Sample Application 464
Forms of the Sample Application 464
Tables of the Business Rules Repository 465
Steps to Add New Rules for a New Rule Type 465

Resources and Further Reading 471

Index 473
This Page Intentionally Left Blank
FOREWORD

I like to say business rules are inevitable. Every organization has them—thousands
of them—and every organization needs to be able to manage them far better today.
I believe it’s no exaggeration to say that many organizations’ very survival depends
on it.
In this book, Malcolm Chisholm makes an important contribution to the busi-
ness rule movement. His is a very practical approach that blends best practices of the
database field with new techniques based on rules. It’s an approach that I can relate
to well because my own work with business rules shares much of the same origin and
trajectory.
To many in the IT world, especially those whose technical coming of age, started
with object orientation and/or web services, the notion that rules should be tied to
databases may seem novel or even heretical. Not at all! Localization of logic and
control of “state” are both intimately related to the issue of data and databases. To
see it otherwise is frankly an aberration. I fully understand that this represents a broad
indictment of the kinds of technical architectures prevalent over the last decade. In
these architectures, databases have played a largely passive role—in many cases
coming into existence almost as an afterthought as the need for persistence is
inevitably recognized.
I don’t want to steal any of Malcolm’s thunder, so I will let his work in this book
show you how to achieve the powerful business (and technical) advantages that rule-
oriented data-based architectures can provide. I do want to applaud Malcolm’s candor
in explaining that his build-it-yourself approach is not for everyone. For a more gen-
eralized rule environment, or for inference-oriented problems, a commercial rule
engine is generally a better choice.

xvii
xviii FOREWORD

But business rules are literally everywhere in operational business processes, and
there are huge opportunities for rule-oriented development on a smaller scale. Admit-
tedly I’m biased, but the question I would be asking is why not take a rule-oriented
data-based approach for most of the problems where in-house development is the
best option?
At the risk of oversimplifying, the problem with applications today is that they
are generally black boxes with respect to rules. That simply means the rules are not
visible to business workers—or even accessible in any meaningful way.
The opposite of “black box” is white box (or glass box if you prefer). Think of the
business rules approach as a “white box” solution with respect to rules. The rules are
never to be hidden from (authorized) business workers. Instead, every possible effort
is made to ensure the rules are visible, accessible and understandable. If you want
your organization’s business processes and practices to be highly adaptive—and what
company doesn’t these days?!—it’s almost painfully obvious that this must be the case.
There’s more to it of course than simply wishing it to be so. Success demands
pragmatic, proven techniques. For one thing, as Malcolm explains in Chapter 6, even
business rule applications must overcome “black box” mindset problems.
I have followed Malcolm’s work for many years—his work on reference data, for
example, is world-class. If I had to choose a leader to follow in this “new” area of do-
it-yourself business rules, it would be Malcolm. Congratulations, Malcolm, on an
important work. Well done!

Ronald G. Ross
Principal, Business Rule Solutions, LLC
Executive Editor, www.BRCommunity.com
INTRODUCTION

Business rules is a term that is becoming increasingly common across the spectrum
that makes up today’s information technology (IT) industry. Many of the issues that
IT professionals face in a variety of specialized fields seem to have a business rules
component, and this has probably helped to gain the term such widespread accep-
tance. Yet, it is very difficult to find common ground on a detailed definition of busi-
ness rules. Different people tend to see business rules through the prism of their own
particular specializations. Some emphasize analytical aspects of business rules, while
others think of the nuts and bolts of how business rules can be implemented in com-
puter applications. Even business users with responsibilities outside IT are becoming
aware of business rules and are adding a new set of viewpoints to the debate.
The central idea behind the concept of business rules is that any organization has
logic that it uses to carry out its operational and managerial tasks. The individual
pieces of this logic are termed business rules, and if they are properly defined it should
be possible to implement them in computerized applications. This, of course, sounds
rather obvious and seems to describe what has been happening in IT for several
decades. It is true that every computer application contains logic that represents the
tasks of the organization that the application supports. However, this logic is usually
described in textual documents used to design such an application without being
formally itemized as individual rules. In reality, such documents may be missing,
incomplete, outdated, or just wrong. Little effort is typically devoted to documenta-
tion, compared with activities such as programming.
Within the program code of an application, it is usually very difficult to even
recognize what pieces of the code make up any particular rule. Indeed, there is a major
disconnect between any written or verbal understanding of the business logic that is

xix
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mint and lavender in memory of days gone by—and the best that I
can say of the days that have gone by is that they have gone by.
As time wore, life seemed to grow dull and heavy, my cheeks grew
pale, and in summer I sat on the piazza, often from breakfast until
dinner-time, with a white crepe shawl thrown about my shoulders,
listlessly watching the passers-by. Mother said, “Poor girl, I wish she
would get mad just once as she used to. She is so good and
submissive.” Doctor Bolus said I needed cod liver oil with strong
doses of quinine, and once a week Glauber salts taken in molasses
and sulphur; but still in spite of all medicine could do for me, I grew
weaker and weaker. I fed on Mrs. Hemans and Tupper, and finally
they carried me daily out to the big carriage, and the coachman was
instructed to drive very slowly, and we went out through the Park,
out to Forest Lawn and looked at our family monument, which
gleamed in the beautiful sunshine.
Mother generally rode with me, and one morning she left me waiting
in the carriage while she went over near our “lot,” so she could more
closely inspect the monument. While waiting the coachman turned
to me and said:
“Missis, yer father have bust, yer mother don’t know it; but you are
no fool, missis, and I thought you should know it, to kinder prepare
like. They have been around inventizering the horses and carriages
and are going to sell them next week—see? And my wife said you
are the only one who has sense, and I should break the news to you
easy like—see?”
I heard him rattling on, but did not seem to understand what he
said; but I felt my heart beating fast and the blood coming to my
cheeks. The old dead submissiveness was gone, and I said:
“John, shut up, and repeat to me what you said first.”
“Nothin’,” said John, “only that your father have bust and run off to
Canada, and C. J. Hummer and the rest is goin’ to bounce you out
next week.”
I saw his grieved tone, or felt it rather, and said:
“John, I did not mean to speak cross to you.”
“Never mind, missis, I have no favors to ax, and you couldn’t grant
eny even if I did—for your father have bust, dwye see?”
Mother was coming from the monument, and greatly vexed, I saw.
“Why, Smythe has not put any foundation under it at all scarcely,”
she said, as she stepped into the carriage. “The weight on top is
gradually crushing the bottom, and I believe it is full six inches
toppled over to the west.”
“It is probably going west to grow up with the country,” I said.
Think of such a remark from a dying invalid!
My mother turned in astonishment to see if it was really her
daughter.
“John,” said I, “drive home—go fast—let them out, will you—go
home quick. Mrs. Hobbs is not well.”
I felt an awful propensity to joke, and a wild exultation and pleasure
came over me that I had not known since we used to climb the hills
at our summer-house at Strykersville. John cracked the whip and
saluted all the other coachmen as we passed. He whistled, and so
did I. For the first time in five years I felt free; and John had lost the
fear that he would not be impressive, and he too was free. My
mother sat bolt upright in a rage.
“You are both drunk,” she said. “John, sit straight on that box. Don’t
carry the whip over your shoulder, and don’t cross your legs or I will
discharge you Saturday night!”
John turned round—smiled—looked at me and winked.
 CHAPTER II.
OURSELVES.

As the carriage stopped in the portière the big gardener came down,
and placing one arm under and the other about me, was just going
to lift the invalid out as usual.
“Go away,” I fairly screamed. “Let me walk, will you! Carry mother in
quick,” for sure enough, she was the one who had to be carried. Her
rigid dignity had disappeared, and she had dropped back listless and
disheveled, moaning:
“Oh, John is drunk and Aspasia crazy! Look at her! she is so sick she
can’t walk, and yet see her run up those steps! What shall I do,
what shall I do! And the monument that they warranted in writing to
last for ever or no pay is tumbling down. I must have it fixed, even if
it costs ten thousand dollars; for the name of Hobbs must not grow
dim.” “Dear he” (she always spoke of her husband as simply “he” or
“him”) “has so often said, ‘You married Hobbs for better or worse’—
says he to me—‘and your name will be carved on the finest
monument in Forest Lawn.’“
Reader bold—lacking in knowledge and therefore in faith, limiting
possibility to your own tiny experience, quick to deny—you doubt
that I went away an invalid and returned in an hour cured. Let me
whisper in your ear that it was all in accordance with natural law,
and not at all strange or miraculous, excepting in the sense that all
nature is miraculous (let us not quarrel over definitions). That which
cured me was a good dose of Animating Purpose.
Men retire from business and die in a year from lack of animating
purpose. Women are protected, hedged about and propped up,
cared for, and die for the lack of this essential.
“Faith Cure,” “Christian Science” and any other strong desire filled
with hope and a determination to be and to do, supply animating
purpose of a good kind, although sometimes, possibly, alloyed with
error: but any good idea which makes us forget self and sends the
blood coursing through our veins, is healing in its nature.
When the stays that held me were cut, and I knew I must live and
work and be useful, the old sickly self was thrust far behind by
Animating Purpose; not the finest quality of animating purpose, I will
admit, but a fairly good serviceable article, and certainly a thousand
times better than none.
You must not think that my mother was naturally weak—not so. Of a
fine delicate organization, she married when nineteen and had given
herself unreservedly to her husband in mind and body (for have not
husbands “rights?”) never doubting but what it was her wifely duty
to do so. She even gave up her own church and joined his—adopted
his opinions—quoted his sayings and repeated his jokes. “Well, he
says so and that is an end to it.” In the house of Hobbs, Hobbs was
the court of last appeal.
In some marriages women say “I will” audibly, with mental
reservation of “when circumstances permit.” Such women have been
instructed in diplomacy. They have been told to meet their husbands
at the door with a smile and clean collar, to make home pleasant, to
smooth down the rough places—in short, to manage the man and
never let him discover it, which is the finest of the finest arts. They
can examine his pockets at such convenient times when he will not
know it, count his money, take what they need—which is better than
harassing a man and whining for a dollar—read his note-book, and
thus in a thousand little ways keep such close track of him that with
proper skill there would be positively no excuse for rubbing him the
wrong way of the fur.
But not so with my mother. She said to Mr. Hobbs on their wedding
night,
“I am yours—wholly yours. In your presence I will think aloud, there
shall be no concealment. To you I give my soul and body!”
Mr. Hobbs took the latter, and in a hoarse whisper said:
“I have an income of six thousand dollars a year, and you shall never
regret you married Hobbs, of Hobbs, Nobbs & Porcine. I will shield
you from every unpleasant thing; you shall never know care or
trouble; never a day’s work shall you do; nothing but just be happy
and look pretty the livelong day; and anything you want at Barnes &
Bancroft’s, Peter Paul’s, Dickinson’s or Fulton Market, why get it and
have it charged to Hobbs, for I am rated in ‘Dun’ ‘E. 2,’ and next
year it will be ‘2 plus.’”
Such total unselfishness touched the virgin heart of this nineteen-
year’s-old woman—that is to say, child. She lived in a Hobbs’
atmosphere. The two lives did not grow into one, she became Mrs.
Hobbs not only in name but in fact. Now any thinking person will
admit that this was better than for her to have endeavored to retain
her individuality, for if she had done this and still was honest and
frank, there would have been strife. She would always have thought
of her girlhood as the ante bellum times, for Mr. Hobbs had ideas, or
believed he had, and nothing gave him such delicious joy as to rub
these ideas into one, especially if they squirmed and protested.
I have seen precocious children that astonished or made jealous as
the case might be. How they did sing, play the banjo, or speak! One
such boy I remember—we were all sure he would grow to be an
orator who would shake the nation. I watched him, and saw him to-
day presiding at the second chair in Chadduck’s tonsorial palace, and
noted the Ciceronian wave of his hand as he shouted the legend,
“Next gentleman—shave.”
Walking across a prairie in Iowa with a friend, we suddenly found
ourselves going through a miniature grove, where the highest trees
did not reach my shoulders. I examined the leaves and found the
trees to be black-oak of the most perfect type.
“What beautiful young trees! How they will grow and grow and put
out their roots in every direction, and search the very bowels of the
earth for the food and sustenance they need! How they will toss
their branches in defiance to the storm, and be a refuge and defence
for the wearied traveler! How——”
“Stop that gush, will you please!” said my companion. “These are
only scrub-oaks and will not be any larger if they live a hundred
years.”
Possibly this grove explains why the average man of sixty is no wiser
and no better than the average man of forty—it is Arrested
Development.
My good mother is only a fine type of Arrested Development.
 CHAPTER III.
A LITTLE LOCAL HISTORY.

With my woman’s intuition I knew all just from the hint John gave.
My father a week before had gone to Montreal, saying he would be
back Wednesday. It was now Friday and he had not returned. I
remember the two men who had come to “take an inventory for the
‘Tax Office,’” one said, and he winked at the other. How they walked
through the house with their hats on and joked each other as they
tried the piano! I saw it all! My father had lost money and had given
a chattel mortgage on the furniture, having first raised all the money
he could on the real estate.
I asked my mother if she remembered giving the mortgage, and she
looked at me, grieved and surprised, saying:
“Why, of course not, dear. I always signed the papers he brought
me. Do you think it a woman’s place to ask questions about
business?”
Well, if I were writing my own history, I would tell you how the two
men from the “Tax Office” came back with Robert McCann the
auctioneer; how they hung a big red flag over the sidewalk and took
up the carpets so that when they walked across the bare floor of the
big parlors the echo of the footsteps rang through the whole house;
how greasy men with hook noses came and examined the furniture;
of how one such insisted on seeing my mother on very private
business, when he asked, “If dot bainting was a real Millais or only a
schnide; and if it was a schnide, to gif a zerdificate dat it vas a
Millais and I will bid it off at a hundred, so hellup me gracious!”; of
how kind neighbors came and bought in all the dishes and silverware
and gave them back to us; of how a certain widowed gentleman
offered to bid in the piano if I would accept a position as governess
for his daughter and live at his house.
Well, the furniture went and so did we. The Fitch ambulance came
and took mother down to our new quarters, which I had rented on
South Division street, near Cedar, and right pretty did the little house
look too. Mrs. Grimes, the laundress, came with us—in fact, came in
spite of us.
“I have no money to pay you, and you cannot come. That is all there
is about it,” I protested.
“Well, I don’t want no money,” said this gray-haired old woman. “I
have ’leven hundred dollars in the Erie County, and it is all yours if
you want it. Haven’t I worked for the Hobbses three weeks lacking
two days before you was left on the steps? I was the only girl they
had then, and I am the only girl you got now. I have sent my hair
trunk down to South Division street, and I’m going myself on the
next load with Bill Smith, who drives the van for Charlie Miller. I
knowed Bill before I did you, and Bill says he will stand by Aspasia
Hobbs too, he does.”
What could I do but kiss the grizzled kindly face of this old “girl” on
both cheeks and let her come?
It was a full month before we got track of my father. I went to
Montreal and brought back an old man, with tottering mind, crushed
in spirit. He had fixed his heart on things of earth—he became a part
of them, they of him—and when they went down there was only one
result. He lingered along for three months, constantly reproaching
himself; seeing also reproach in the face of every passer-by,
imagining upbraidings in each look of those who sought to comfort
and care for him, and the light of his life went out in darkness.
“Judge not that ye be not judged.”
 CHAPTER IV.
SOME THINGS.

My mother received a little money from the life insurance

companies. Father patronized only assessment companies, as they
are cheap. He prided himself on his financial ability, always saying he
could invest money as well as any rascally insurance president and
that there was “nothing like having your money where you can put
your claw on it in case you get a straight tip.”
Idle I could not be, and I resolved to get a situation.
“Verily, I will teach school, for the young must be educated,” I said,
“or the world cannot be tamed. I must, I will mould growing
character.” In fact, I felt a call; so I called on Mr. Straight, the
superintendent of education, never doubting but that he would at
once give me an opportunity to show my ability. I displayed my Dr.
Chesterfield and the high-school diplomas, and various certificates
from long-haired and eccentric foreigners, (not forgetting Prof.
Franklin of Col. Webber’s and Judge Lewis’s testimonials, who
imparts dramatic instruction for one dollar an impart) as to my ability
in music, dancing, French, German, and deportment.
The superintendent counted the certificates and diplomas as he piled
them up on his desk, and asked me if I had any “pull.” Then he
asked me why I did not get married, and said he had been looking
for me, “for whenever a man busts his daughters always come here
for a job.” He took my name in a big book, and as he waved me out
remarked that “there are only seven hundred applicants ahead of
you. I’m afraid you are not in it. You had better catch on to some
young fellow, my dear, before the crow’s feet get too pronounced
——ta, ta.”[1]
I stood outside the door confused, defeated, angry. I thought of a
thousand things I should have said to that grinning insinuating
superintendent, and here I had not said a word. I was out in the
hall, the door was shut. Slowly my wrath took form in action, and I
walked off with a much more emphatic tread than was becoming in
a young woman. I slammed my parasol against the banisters at
every stride as I went down the city hall steps. I had a plan. Straight
to the News office I went, intending to insert an advertisement and
thus secure exactly the position I desired. I bought a paper to see
how other people advertised, and my eyes fell on the following:

Wanted: As correspondent, book-keeper and stenographer, a

young woman who can translate German, French, and Italian,
who is not afraid to work, and can look after the business in
proprietor’s absence. Wages, $4.75 per week.
Apply to Hustler & Co.,
Manufacturers of Glue,
Genesee Street.

I took the paper and entered a herdic, telling the driver to hurry as I
wanted to go to Hustler & Co.’s.
Arriving there, I walked in, banged the door, and demanded to see
Hustler, omitting all title and prefix. Straight had brow-beaten and
insulted me an hour before—let Hustler try if he dare. I wanted a
position, not advice, and would brook no parley or nonsense.
“Are you Hustler?” I asked of a little meek bald-headed man, with a
ginger-colored fringe of hair like a lambrequin around his occiput. He
plead guilty. “And did you,” I continued hurriedly, but in a
determined manner, “and did you insert this advertisement?” and I
spread out the paper before him.
He hesitated.
“Did you, or did you not?”
Here I moved back three paces and gazed at him as though I had
him on cross-examination. He admitted that he had inserted the
advertisement, had not yet found a young woman who could fill all
of the conditions, and that I could have the place.
“To-morrow, when the whistle blows for seven o’clock,” said he.
“To-morrow, when the whistle blows for seven o’clock,” said I.
 CHAPTER V.
LOST.

At last I was no longer a dependent! From this time on I would not

only earn my own living, but I would do for others. I was no longer
a pensioner.
“He who receives a pension gives for it his manhood,” said Plato. A
pension makes a man a mendicant. When the world is peopled by
God’s people, every man will work according to his ability, and will
be paid for his services, so there will neither be pensioners nor
bumptious bestowers.
My work at Hustler & Co.’s was not difficult, when I got over the
scare and the belief that it was awfully complex. In short, the lion
was chained, as it always is when we get up close and inspect the
animal; or perhaps, it is only a stuffed lion that has been terrifying
us. Possibly some evilly disposed person, seeing our fear, has taken
pains to wipe the dust off the fiery glass eyes, to rough up the
tawny mane, and set the tail at that terrific angle—but who is afraid
of a lion on wheels? When I became composed and took a common
sense view of the work, the difficulties took wing, and at the end of
the first week, Mr. Hustler gave me the assurance “that I was no
slouch,” which is the highest compliment that Rustler Hustler, of the
firm of Hustler & Co., glue makers, was ever known to pay to any
living soul.
One of the girls in the office told me that the former stenographer
lost her place by taking dictation for Mr. Bilkson, the junior partner,
at close range; which being interpreted, meant that when Mr. Bilkson
dictated his letters to the young lady, he had her sit on his knee.
Mrs. Bilkson is a large, determined woman with a jealous nature and
red parasol. As she appeared in the private office one day without
first sending in her card, the close range plan was discovered. Soon
after that little Miss Bustle was found to be incompetent, and the
cashier gave her her time. Bilkson still remains.
When the junior dictates letters to me, it is through the little sliding
window that connects my room with the general office. This was at
my suggestion after a few days’ acquaintanceship with the
gentleman. I fear I also incurred his enmity when I told him I was
hired to do the work, not to entertain the firm.
Saturdays we have half a day off—that is, we work until 1:30 and
are docked half a day.
Every one who knows me, knows I am a great bicycler—in fact,
working closely, if it were not for the outdoor exercise I get, I could
never stand the strain, but would be a candidate for nervous
prostration (technical name Americanitis). Some years ago I had an
awful bad spell. Dr. Bolus was sent for and prescribed quinine and
iron with a trip to Bermuda and rest for a year. My old friend, Martha
Heath, came in soon after, and I asked her to go to Stoddard’s
drugstore for the quinine.
“I won’t,” said Martha Heath. “Bounce Bolus and buy a bicycle!”
I followed her advice, and have blessed Martha Heath ever since.
It was my custom on Saturdays after I had eaten my lunch at the
factory, to take my wheel and go on a long ride, sometimes in the
summer as far as Niagara Falls, getting back late in the evening.
These long quiet rides I anticipated with much pleasure, for to get
away from the strife of men out into the quiet country, seemed to
give me new life. The winter gave me little opportunity for these
trips, so I looked forward longingly to the coming of spring.
The month of April, 1891, it will be remembered was remarkable, in
that there was not a single fall of rain from the 10th to the 30th. The
roads were dry and dusty as in summer. Saturday afternoon, April
30th, when I rode out Clinton street in the delightful sunshine which
seemed to bear healing on its wings, women were working in the
gardens, cleaning up the rubbish; children playing on the road; a
faint smell of bonfire from burning rubbish, people starting in in the
spring to keep the yards clean; men plowing in the fields; and how
the frogs did croak! Joy and gladness on every hand. Out through
Gardenville, past Ebenezer, five o’clock found me at Hurdville. I was
so very busy drinking in the glorious scene that I had ridden slower
than I intended, for I had made calculations to be at Aurora before
this time, and well on the way homeward.
“Well,” said I, “Aspasia Hobbs, you had better hurry up or night will
catch you. Besides, the wind has come up strong from the
southwest, and away off over the Colden hills is a little black cloud—
what a joke if you should get wet?”
There is a lane running across from Hurdville to the Buffalo plank
road, so I decided to cut my trip short and strike across at once. I
looked at my watch and it was just 5:15 when I entered the lane,
which was grass-grown and not at all adapted for bicycling. As I
pushed on, the road grew worse, so I got off and pushed the wheel
ahead of me. Rather hard work it proved, as I wore a long woolen
dress, which I had to hold up in walking.
Then I tried riding again. A great yellow ominous brightness was in
the west, and soon I noticed it was growing dark, and that the little
cloud had grown until it seemed to cover the whole western sky. A
few big rain drops fell as I looked again at my watch, which said six
o’clock. I kept thinking I must come to the plank road every minute,
and strained my eyes for the telegraph poles which I knew marked
the highway. But no, I could not see them. “Surely this lane must
cross the main road or I am turned around and am following a road
running parallel with the other,” I concluded.
Still I trudged on, now riding, then walking. It began to rain now in
right good earnest. I felt the mud sticking to my shoes and my
clothes growing heavy. My arms grew tired pushing the wheel before
me as I walked. The spokes had become a solid mass of mud. I tried
to mount the wheel. It swerved and I lay in the ditch. I then realized
that to try to push the bicycle further or to ride would be folly; so I
pulled the machine into the bushes, and looked around me on every
side. Not even a lightning glare to relieve the gloom and brighten
the landscape. The rain still fell in torrents. I covered my face with
my hands. I thought of my mother waiting in the bright light of our
little dining-room, the supper on the table. I tried to imagine this
howling wind and blackness of the night was a dream; but no, I was
alone—alone, lost.
 CHAPTER VI.
THE LOG CABIN.

It was the worst night I ever saw, and I hope I may never see
another one like it. How the winds did roar through the branches
and the wild crash now and then of a falling tree was most
appalling. The darkness was intense. The cold rain came in beating
gusts, and I felt it was gradually turning to sleet and snow.
Think of it, I, a city-bred woman, alone on an out-of-the-way country
road, dense woods on either side, mud and slush ankle deep,
wandering I knew not where!
My clothes weighed a hundred pounds. They clung to my tired form
and I seemed ready to fall with fatigue, when I saw, not far ahead of
me, the glimmer of a light which seemed to come from a small log
house a quarter of a mile back from the road.
Straight toward the welcoming glimmering light, through bramble,
bush and stumps, I stumbled my way, now and then sinking near
knee deep in some hole where a tree had been uprooted. I think I
rather pounded on the door than rapped, and so fearful was I that I
would not meet with a welcome reception, that I began scarcely
before the door was opened explaining in a loud and excited voice
(for I am but a woman after all), begging that I might be warmed
and sheltered only until daylight, when I could make my way back,
promising pay in a sight draft on Hustler & Co., for in my coming
away I had left my purse in my office dress. I only remember that
what I took for an old man opened the door, led me in, showing not
the slightest look of curiosity or surprise, but seeming rather to be
expecting me. He stopped my excited talking by saying, in the
mildest, sweetest baritone I ever heard,
“Yes, I know. It is turning to snow. You lost your way and are wet
and cold. Look at this cheerful fireplace and this pile of pine wood.
My wife is here; but no, I have no woman’s clothes either. You had
better take off your dress and let it dry over the chair. Then if you
stand before the fire your other raiment will soon dry on you, which
is as good as changing; and in the meantime, I will get you
something to eat.”
That night seems now as if it belonged to a former existence, so soft
and hazy when viewed across memory’s landscape. I only know that
as soon as the man stopped my hurried explanations, the sense of
fear vanished, and I felt as secure as when a child I prattled about
my mother’s rocking-chair as she watched me with loving eyes. I
said not a word, so great was the peace that had come over me.
After a plain supper, of which I partook heartily, I remember climbing
a ladder up into the garret of this log house, and stooping so as not
to strike my head against the rafters; also The Man’s tucking me in
bed as though I were a child, putting an extra blanket over me while
saying softly to himself as if he were speaking to a third person,
“She must be kept warm. Nature’s balm will heal, sleep is the great
restorer, to-morrow she will feel all the better for this little
experience. So is the seeming bad turned into good.”
He passed his hand gently over my eyes, took up the candle and I
heard him move down the ladder and—sweet childlike sleep held me
fast.
 CHAPTER VII.
THE MAN.

The morning sun came creeping through the cracks of the garret as
I slowly awoke to consciousness and began rubbing my eyes, trying
to make out where I was and how I came there. Slowly it dawned
upon me, the awful work of trying to push that wheel through the
mud; the descending darkness; the increasing storm; of how I left
the bicycle by the road-side and the sickening sense that came over
me as I felt that I had lost my way and must find shelter or perish;
of how my heavy woolen dress, soaked with water, tangled my tired
legs as I struggled forward; of the glimmering light, and how I
feared that though I had at last found a house they might mistake
me for an outcast and have no pity on me; of the sweet peace I
experienced when the old man spoke to me; of following his
suggestion that I should remove my dress; of how I stood clad only
in my under-clothing before the fire, and of how he put me to bed,
and I was all unabashed and unashamed. I thought of all this and
more, and was just getting ready to be thoroughly frightened when
my reverie was broken into by hearing a step come lightly up the
ladder, and the beautiful face of The Man framed in its becoming
snowy white hair appeared.
“Yes, she is awake,” he said, again seemingly talking to a third
person. “She will be a little sore of course after the exertion, but
refreshed and all the stronger for the hard work. Paradoxical—effort
put forth causes power to accumulate in the body, which is only a
storage battery after all. By giving out power we gain it, by losing
life we save it. How simple yet how wonderful are the works of
God!” Then speaking to me: “I will bring you warm water for a bath.
It will take the stiffness out of your limbs. Breakfast will be ready
when you are.”
I bathed, dressed without the aid of a glass, and was surprised to
feel how strong and well I felt. Down I went cautiously on the
ladder, and we ate breakfast, neither speaking a word. It seemed as
if (glib as I generally am—“A regular gusher,” Martha Heath says) to
break in on the silence would be sacrilege. Silence is music at rest.
Out of every fifty men who pass along the street, only one thinks;
the forty-nine have feelings but no thoughts. We have no time here
to treat of the forty-nine; let us leave them out of the question and
deal only with the one, the men of character, so-called, men who
have opinions and hold them. In this class we cannot admit the girl-
men or boy-men or those who are called men simply because they
are not women, or the vicious or even those of doubtful morality. Let
us take only the best and not even consider the “unco-gude.” Now
having banished the unthinking, the immoral and the doubtful, tell
me, reader, have you ever seen a man? Have you? Not a caricature
or imitation of one, full of a wish to be manly, and therefore anxious
about the result? not a being full of whim and prejudice, receiving
the opinions from the past and referring to numbers as proof; who
prides himself on his self-reliance and his absence of pride, and yet
who can be won by agreeing with him and through diplomacy? not
one who endeavors to prove to you the correctness of his views by
argument in the endeavor to win you over to his side, in order that
that side may be strengthened? not one in whose mouth there is
continually a large capital I, or who has a bad case of egomania and
studiously avoids all mention of himself?
But what I mean is a man every whit whole, mens sana in corpora
sano, who is afraid of no man and of whom no man is afraid, to
whom the word ‘fear’ is unknown. Prize fighters sometimes boast
that they are without fear, but there is one thing they are afraid of,
and that is fear. Fear is the great disturber. It causes all physical ills
(Yes, I know what I say.) and it robs us of our heavenly birthright.
What is the cause of fear? Sin, and if your education had been
begun at the right time and in the right way, you might now be
without sin—that is, without fear. Begin the right education now, and
in time you will come into possession of your heritage; for you are
an immortal spirit, dwelling in this body which to-morrow you may
slip off; and all the right education you have acquired will still be
yours, for as in matter there is nothing lost, so in spirit nothing is
destroyed.
When you stand in the presence of a man you will know it by the
holy calm that comes stealing over you. His presence will put you at
your ease—with no effort to please and yet without indifference.
Both can remain silent without there being an awkward pause or any
embarrassment. The atmosphere he will bring will clothe you as with
a garment, and though your sins be as scarlet you will make no
effort to dissemble, to excuse, to explain, or to apologize. You will
find this man is no longer young, for youth is restless and ambitious,
and although he fears not death, nor scarcely thinks of it, yet lives
as though this body was immortal.
I lived under the same roof with The Man one day in each week for
two months, and words utterly fail me when I endeavor to describe
him, for how can I describe to you the Ideal?
At first I thought him an old man, for his luxuriant hair and full wavy
beard were snowy white; but the face, tanned by exposure to the
winds, was free from wrinkles and had the bright anticipatory joyous
look of youth; eyes, large, brown and lustrous, looking through and
through one, but yet the glance was not piercing, for it spoke of love
and sympathy and not of curiosity or aggression; form, strong and
athletic; hands, calloused by work; yet this man, strong, brown, with
throat bared to the breast, seemed to have the strength of an
athlete yet the gentleness of a woman, the high look of wisdom, and
with his whole demeanor the composure of Plato. God had breathed
into his nostrils and he had become a living soul.
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