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diff --git a/42451-8.txt b/42451-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a88e42c..0000000 --- a/42451-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5935 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Heroines of Service, by Mary Rosetta Parkman - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Heroines of Service - Mary Lyon, Alice Freeman Palmer, Clara Barton, Frances - Willard, Julia Ward Howe, Anna Shaw, Mary Antin, Alice C. - Fletcher, Mary Slessor of Calabar, Madame Curie, Jane Addams - -Author: Mary Rosetta Parkman - -Release Date: April 1, 2013 [EBook #42451] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEROINES OF SERVICE *** - - - - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - -HEROINES OF SERVICE - -[Illustration: Mary Lyon] - - - - - HEROINES OF SERVICE - - MARY LYON -- ALICE FREEMAN PALMER -- CLARA - BARTON -- FRANCES WILLARD -- JULIA WARD - HOWE -- ANNA SHAW -- MARY ANTIN - ALICE C. FLETCHER -- MARY SLESSOR - OF CALABAR -- MADAME CURIE - JANE ADDAMS - - BY - - MARY R. PARKMAN - - Author of "Heroes of Today," etc. - - ILLUSTRATED WITH - PHOTOGRAPHS - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - THE CENTURY CO. - 1921 - - - - - Copyright, 1916, 1917, by - THE CENTURY CO. - - _Published September, 1917 - Reprinted April, 1918; - Reprinted August, 1918._ - - PRINTED IN U. S. A. - - - - - TO - MY MOTHER - - AND ALL WHO, LIKE HER, ARE - TRUE MOTHERS, AND SO, TRUE - "HEROINES OF SERVICE." - - - - -FOREWORD - - -From time immemorial women have been content to be as those who serve. -_Non ministrari sed ministrare_--not to be ministered unto but to -minister--is not alone the motto of those who stand under the Wellesley -banner, but of true women everywhere. - -For centuries a woman's own home had not only first claim, but full -claim, on her fostering care. Her interests and sympathies--her mother -love--belonged only to those of her own household. In the days when much -of the labor of providing food and clothing was carried on under each -roof-tree, her service was necessarily circumscribed by the home walls. -Whether she was the lady of a baronial castle, or a hardy peasant who -looked upon her work within doors as a rest from her heavier toil in the -fields, the mother of the family was not only responsible for the care -of her children and the prudent management of her housekeeping, but she -had also entire charge of the manufacture of clothing, from the spinning -of the flax or wool to the fashioning of the woven cloth into suitable -garments. - -Changed days have come, however, with changed ways. The development -of science and invention, which has led to industrial progress and -specialization, has radically changed the woman's world of the home. -The industries once carried on there are now more efficiently handled -in large factories and packing-houses. The care of the house itself is -undertaken by specialists in cleaning and repairing. - -Many women, whose energies would have been, under former conditions, -inevitably monopolized by home-keeping duties, are to-day giving -their strength and special gifts to social service. They are the true -mothers--not only of their own little brood--but of the community and -the world. - -The service of the true woman is always "womanly." She gives something -of the fostering care of the mother, whether it be as nurse, like Clara -Barton; as teacher, like Mary Lyon and Alice Freeman Palmer; or as -social helper, like Jane Addams. So it is that the service of these -"heroines" is that which only women could have given to the world. - -Many women who have never held children of their own in their arms have -been mothers to many in their work. It was surely the mother heart of -Frances E. Willard that made our "maiden crusader" a helper and healer, -as well as a standard bearer. It was the mother heart of Alice C. -Fletcher, that made that student of the past a champion of the Indians -in their present-day problems and a true "campfire interpreter." It was -the woman's tenderness that made Mary Slessor, that torch-bearer to -Darkest Africa, the "white mother" of all the black people she taught -and served. - -The Russian peasants have a proverb: "Labor is the house that Love lives -in." The women, who, as mothers of their own families, or of other -children whose needs cry out for their understanding care, are always -homemakers. And the work of each of these--her labor of love--is truly -"a house that love lives in." - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I MARY LYON 3 - - II ALICE FREEMAN PALMER 31 - - III CLARA BARTON 61 - - IV FRANCES E. WILLARD 89 - - V JULIA WARD HOWE 119 - - VI ANNA HOWARD SHAW 151 - - VII MARY ANTIN 185 - - VIII ALICE C. FLETCHER 211 - - IX MARY SLESSOR 235 - - X MARIE SKLODOWSKA CURIE 267 - - XI JANE ADDAMS 297 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE - - Mary Lyon _Frontispiece_ - - Mary Lyon Chapel and Administration Hall 17 - - Alice Freeman Palmer 36 - - College Hall, Destroyed by Fire in 1914 53 - - Tower Court, which Stands on the Site of College Hall 53 - - Clara Barton 79 - - Frances E. Willard 94 - - The Statue of Miss Willard in the Capitol at Washington 103 - - Mrs. Julia Ward Howe 133 - - Anna Howard Shaw 167 - - Mary Antin 201 - - Alice C. Fletcher 227 - - Mary Slessor 253 - - Marie Sklodowska Curie 280 - - Madame and Dr. Curie and Their Little Daughter Irene 289 - - Jane Addams 299 - - Polk Street Façade of Hull-House Buildings 309 - - A Corner of the Boys' Library at Hull House 309 - - - - -PROPHET AND PIONEER: MARY LYON - - - - - Anything that ought to be done can be done. - - IMMANUEL KANT. - - - - -HEROINES OF SERVICE - - - - -PROPHET AND PIONEER - - -"What is my little Mistress Mary trying to do?" The whir of the -spinning-wheel was stilled for a moment as Mrs. Lyon glanced in surprise -at the child who had climbed up on a chair to look more closely at the -hourglass on the chimneypiece. - -"I am just trying to see if I can find the way to make more time," -replied Mary. - -"That's not the way, daughter," laughed the busy mother, as she started -her wheel again. "When you stop to watch time, you lose it. Let your -work slip from your fingers faster than the sand slips--that's the way -to make time!" - -If busy hands can indeed make time, we know why the days were so full -of happy work in that little farm-house among the hills of western -Massachusetts. It takes courage and ceaseless toil to run a farm that -must provide food and clothing for seven growing children, but Mrs. Lyon -was never too busy or too tired to help a neighbor or to speak a word of -cheer. - -"How is it that the widow can do more for me than any one else?" asked -a neighbor who had found her a friend in need. "She reminds me of what -the Bible says, 'having nothing yet possessing all things.' There she is -left without a husband to fend for her and the children, so that it's -work, work, work for them all from morning till night, and yet they're -always happy. You would think the children liked nothing better than -doing chores." - -"How is it that the harder a thing is the more you seem to like it, -Mary?" asked her seat-mate in the district school, looking wonderingly -at the girl whose eyes always brightened and snapped when the arithmetic -problems were long and hard. - -"Oh, it's lots more fun _climbing_ than just going along on the level," -replied Mary. "You feel so much more alive. I'll tell you what to do -when a thing seems hard, like a steep, steep hill, you know. Say to -yourself: 'Some people may call you Difficulty, old hill; but I know -that your name is Opportunity. You're here just to prove that I can do -something worth while.' Then the climbing is the best fun--really!" - -It is a happy thing to be born among the hills. Wherever one looks there -is something to whisper: "There is no joy like climbing. Besides, the -sun stays longer on the summit, and beyond the hill-tops is a larger, -brighter world." Perhaps it was the fresh breath of the hills that gave -Mary Lyon her glowing cheeks, as the joy of climbing brought the dancing -lights into her clear blue eyes. - -The changing seasons march over the hills in a glorious pageant of -color, from the tender veiling green of young April to the purple mists -and red-and-gold splendor of Indian summer. Every day had the thrill of -new adventure to Mary Lyon, but perhaps she loved the mellow October -days best. "They have all the glowing memory of the past summer and the -promise of the spring to come," she used to say. - -How could one who had, through the weeks of growing things, worked -together with rain and sunshine and generous earth for the harvest but -feel the happy possession of all the year at the time when she saw -bins overflowing with brown potatoes, yellow corn, and other gifts of -fields and orchard? She could never doubt that, given the waiting earth -and faithful labor, the harvest was sure. Duties and difficulties were -always opportunities for higher endeavor and happier achievement. - -There was no play in Mary Lyon's childhood except the play that a -healthy, active child may find in varied, healthful work done with a -light heart. There was joy in rising before the sun was up, to pick -weeds in the dewy garden, to feed the patient creatures in the barn, -and to make butter in the cool spring-house. Sometimes one could meet -the sunrise on the hill-top, when it happened to be one's turn to bring -wood to the dwindling pile by the kitchen door. Then there was the -baking--golden-brown loaves of bread and tempting apple pies. When the -morning mists had quite disappeared from the face of the hills, the blue -smoke had ceased to rise from the chimney of the little farm-house. -Then was the time to sit beside Mother and knit or weave, sew or mend, -the garments that were homemade, beginning with the moment when the -wool, sheared from their own sheep, was carded and spun into thread. -For holidays, there were the exciting mornings when they made soap and -candles, or the afternoons when they gathered together in the barn for a -husking-bee. - -Beauty walked with Toil, however, about that farm in the hills. Mary had -time to lift up her eyes to the glory of the changing sky and to tend -the pinks and peonies that throve nowhere so happily as in her mother's -old-fashioned garden. - -"May I plant this bush in the corner with your roses?" asked a neighbor -one day. "It is a rare plant of rare virtue, and I know that in your -garden it cannot die." - -As the labor of her hands prospered, as her garden posies blossomed, so -the wings of Mary Lyon's spirit grew. No matter how shut in the present -seemed, no hope nor dream for the future died in her heart as the days -went by. - -Her plans only took deeper and deeper root as she worked and waited -patiently for the time of flowers and fruit. There were few books to be -had, but these yielded her of their best. There was opportunity for but -few scattered terms in distant district schools, but she learned there -more than the teachers taught. - -"Anything is interesting when you realize that it is important," she -used to say. And to Mary everything was important that was real. She -learned not only from books, but from work, from people, from Nature, -and from every bit of stray circumstance that came her way. It is said -that when the first brick house was built in the village she made a -point of learning how to make bricks, turning them up, piling them on -the wheelbarrow, and putting them in the kiln. She was always hungry to -know and to do, and the harder a thing was the more she seemed to like -it. Climbing was ever more fun than trudging along on the level. - -The years brought changes to the home farm. The older sisters married -and went to homes of their own. When Mary was thirteen her mother -married again and went away with the younger children, leaving her to -keep house for the only brother, who had from early childhood been her -best comrade. The dollar a week given her for her work was saved to pay -for a term in the neighboring academy. She also taught in a district -school for a while, receiving seventy-five cents a week and board. - -The nineteen-year-old girl who appeared one day at the Ashfield -Academy somehow drew all eyes to her. Her blue homespun dress, with -running-strings at neck and waist, was queer and shapeless, even judged -by village standards in the New England of 1817. Her movements were -impulsive and ungainly and her gait awkward. But it was not the crudity, -but the power, of the new-comer that impressed people. Squire White's -gentle daughter, the slender, graceful Amanda, gave the loyalty of her -best friendship to this interesting and enthusiastic schoolmate from the -hill farm. - -"She is more alive than any one I know, Father," said the girl, in -explanation of her preference. "You never see her odd dress and sudden -ways when once you have looked into her face and talked to her. Her face -seems lighted from within--it isn't just her bright color and red-gold -curls; it isn't even her merry laugh. I can't explain what I mean, -but it seems as if her life touches mine--and it's such a big, warm, -beautiful life!" - -The traditions of this New England village long kept the memory of -her first recitation. On Friday she had been given the first lesson -of Adams's Latin Grammar to commit to memory. When she was called up -early Monday afternoon, she began to recite fluently declensions and -conjugations without pause, until, as the daylight waned, the whole of -the Latin grammar passed in review before the speechless teacher and -dazzled, admiring pupils. - -"How did you ever do it? How could your head hold it all?" demanded -Amanda, with a gasp, as they walked home together. - -"Well, really, I'll have to own up," said Mary, with some reluctance, "I -studied all day Sunday! It wasn't so very hard, though. I soon saw where -the changes in the conjugations came in, and the rules of syntax are -very much like English grammar." - -Studying was never hard work to Mary, because she could at a moment's -notice put all her attention on the thing at hand. Her busy childhood -had taught her to attack a task at once, while others were frequently -spending their time thinking and talking about doing it. - -"No one could study like Mary Lyon, and no one could clean the -school-room with such despatch," said one of her classmates. - -It seemed as if she never knew what it was to be tired. She appeared to -have a boundless store of strength and enthusiasm, as if, through all -her growing years, she had made over into the very fiber of her being -the energy of the life-giving sunshine and the patience of the enduring -hills. Time must be used wisely when all one's little hoard of savings -will only pay for the tuition of one precious term. Her board was paid -with two coverlets, spun, dyed, and woven by her own hands. - -"They should prove satisfactory covers," she said merrily, "for they -have covered all my needs." - -On the day when she thought she must bid farewell to Ashfield Academy -the trustees voted her free tuition, a gift which, as pupil-teacher, -she did her best to repay. The hospitable doors of Squire White's -dignified residence were thrown open to his daughter's chosen friend, -and in this second home she readily absorbed the ways of gracious -living--the niceties and refinements of dress and manners for which -there had been no time in the busy farm-house. - -When the course at the academy was completed, the power of her eager -spirit and evident gifts led Squire White to offer her the means to go -with his daughter to Byfield Seminary near Boston, the school conducted -by Mr. Joseph Emerson, who believed that young women, no less than their -brothers, should have an opportunity for higher instruction. In those -days before colleges for women or normal schools, he dreamed of doing -something towards giving worthy preparation to future teachers. It was -through the teaching and inspiration of this cultured Harvard scholar -and large-hearted man that Mary Lyon learned to know the meaning of -life, and to understand aright the longings of her own soul. Years -afterward she said: "In my youth I had much vigor--was always aspiring -after something. I called it longing to study, but had few to direct me. -One teacher I shall always remember. He taught me that education was to -fit one to do good." - -On leaving Byfield Seminary, Miss Lyon began her life-work of teaching. -But with all her preparation for doing and her intense desire to do, she -did not at first succeed. The matter of control was not easy to one who -would not stoop to rigid mechanical means and who said, "One has not -governed a child until she makes the child smile under her government." -Besides, her sense of humor--later one of her chief assets--seemed at -first to get in the way of her gaining a steady hold on the reins. - -When she was tempted to give up in discouragement, she said to herself: -"I know that good teachers are needed, and that I ought to teach. 'All -that ought to be done can be done.'" - -To one who worked earnestly in that spirit, success was sure. Five years -later, two towns were vying with each other to secure her as a teacher -in their academies for young ladies. For some time she taught at Derry, -New Hampshire, during the warm months, going to her beloved Ashfield for -the winter term. Wherever she was she drew pupils from the surrounding -towns and even from beyond the borders of the State. Teachers left their -schools to gather about her. She had the power to communicate something -of her own enthusiasm and vitality. Bright eyes and alert faces -testified to her power to quicken thought and to create an appetite for -knowledge. - -"Her memory has been to me continually an inspiration to overcome -difficulties," said one of her pupils. - -"You were the first friend who ever pointed out to me defects of -character with the expectation that they would be removed," another -pupil wrote in a letter of heartfelt gratitude. - -At this time all the schools for girls, like the Ashfield Academy and -Mr. Emerson's seminary at Byfield, were entirely dependent upon the -enterprise and ideals of individuals. There were no colleges with -buildings and equipment, such as furnished dormitories, libraries, and -laboratories, belonging to the work and the future. In the case of the -most successful schools there was no guarantee that they would endure -beyond the lifetime of those whose interest had called them into being. - -Miss Lyon taught happily for several years, often buying books of -reference and material for practical illustration out of her salary of -five or six dollars a week. The chance for personal influence seemed the -one essential. "Never mind the brick and mortar!" she cried. "Only let -us have the living minds to work upon!" - -As experience came with the years, however, as she saw schools where a -hundred young women were crowded into one room without black-boards, -globes, maps, and other necessaries of instruction--she realized that -something must be done to secure higher schools for girls, that would -have the requisite material equipment for the present and security for -the future. "We must provide a college for young women on the same -conditions as those for men, with publicly owned buildings and fixed -standards of work," she said. - -This idea could appeal to most people of that day only as a strange, -extravagant, and dangerous notion. Harvard and Yale existed to prepare -men to be ministers, doctors, and lawyers. Did women expect to thrust -themselves into the professions? Why should they want the learning of -men? It could do nothing but make them unfit for their proper life in -the home. Who had ever heard of a college for girls! What is unheard of -is to most people manifestly absurd. - -To Mary Lyon, however, difficulties were opportunities for truer effort -and greater service. She had, besides, a faith in a higher power--in a -Divine Builder of "houses not made with hands"--which led her to say -with unshaken confidence, "'All that ought to be done can be done!'" - -[Illustration: Mary Lyon chapel and administration hall] - -It was as if she were able to look into the future and see the way time -would sift the works of the present. Those who looked into her earnest -blue eyes, bright with courage, deep with understanding, could not but -feel that she had the prophet's vision. It was as if she had power to -divine the difference between the difficult and the impossible, and, -knowing that, her faith in the happy outcome of her work was founded on -a rock. - -It took this faith and hope, together with an unfailing charity for -the lack of vision in others and an ever-present sense of humor, to -carry Mary Lyon through the task to which she now set herself. She was -determined to open people's eyes to the need of giving girls a chance -for a training that would fit them for more useful living by making them -better teachers, wiser home-makers, and, in their own right, happier -human beings. She must not only convince the conservative men and women -of her day that education could do these things, but she must make -that conviction so strong that they would be willing to give of their -hard-earned substance to help along the good work. - -Those were not the days of large fortunes. Miss Lyon could not depend -upon winning the interest of a few powerful benefactors. She must enlist -the support of the many who would be willing to share their little. She -must perforce have the hardihood of the pioneer, no less than the vision -of the seer, to enable her to meet the problems, trials, and rebuffs of -the next few years. - -"I learned twenty years ago not to get out of patience," she once said -to some one who marveled at the unwearied good-humor with which she met -the most exasperating circumstances. - -First enlisting the assistance of a few earnest men to serve as trustees -and promoters of the cause, she, herself, traveled from town to town, -from village to village, and from house to house, telling over and -over again the story of the Mount Holyoke to be, and what it was to -mean to the daughters of New England. For the site in South Hadley, -Massachusetts, had been early selected, and the name of the neighboring -height, overlooking the Connecticut River, chosen by the girl who was -born in the hills and who believed that it was good to climb. - -"I wander about without a home," she wrote to her mother, "and scarcely -know one week where I shall be the next." - -All of her journeying was by stage, for at that time the only railroad -in New England was the one, not yet completed, connecting Boston with -Worcester and Lowell. To those who feared that even her robust health -and radiant spirit could not long endure the strain of such a life, she -said: "Our personal comforts are delightful, but not essential. Mount -Holyoke means more than meat and sleep. Had I a thousand lives, I would -sacrifice them all in suffering and hardship for its sake." - -During these years Miss Lyon abundantly proved that the pioneer does -not live by bread alone. Only by the vision of what his struggles will -mean to those who come after to profit by his labors is his zeal fed. -It seemed at the time when Mount Holyoke was only a dream of what might -be, and in the anxious days of breaking ground which followed, that -Miss Lyon's faith that difficulties are only opportunities in disguise -was tried to the utmost. Just when her enthusiasm was arousing in the -frugal, thrifty New Englanders a desire to give, out of their slender -savings, a great financial panic swept over the country. - -Miss Lyon's friends shook their heads. "You will have to wait for better -times," they said. "It is impossible to go on with the undertaking now." - -"When a thing ought to be done, it cannot be impossible," replied Miss -Lyon. "_Now_ is the only word that belongs to us; with the afterwhile we -have nothing to do." - -In that spirit she went on, and in that spirit girls who had been her -pupils gave of their little stipends earned by teaching, and the mothers -of girls gave of the money earned by selling eggs and braiding palm-leaf -hats. - -"Don't think any gift too small," said Miss Lyon. "I want the twenties -and the fifties, but the dollars and the half-dollars, with prayer, go a -long way." - -So Mount Holyoke was built on faith and prayer and the gifts of the many -who believed that the time cried out for a means of educating girls who -longed for a better training. One hard-working farmer with five sons -to educate gave a hundred dollars. "I have no daughters of my own," he -said, "but I want to help give the daughters of America the chance they -should have along with the boys." Two delicate gentlewomen who had lost -their little property in the panic, earned with their own hands the -money they had pledged to the college. - -Even Miss Lyon's splendid optimism had, however, some chill encounters -with smallmindedness in people who were not seldom those of large -opportunities. Once when she had journeyed a considerable distance to -lay her plans before a family of wealth and influence in the community, -she returned to her friends with a shade of thought on her cheerful -brow. "Yes, it is all true, just as I was told," she said as if to -herself. "They live in a costly house, it is full of costly things, they -wear costly clothes--but oh, they're _little bits of folks_!" - -Miss Lyon, herself, gave to the work not only her entire capital of -physical strength and her gifts of heart and mind, but also her small -savings, which had been somewhat increased by Mr. White's prudent -investments. And for the future she offered her services on the same -conditions as those of the missionary--the means of simple livelihood -and the joy of the work. - -"Mount Holyoke is designed to cultivate the missionary spirit among its -pupils," declared an early circular, "that they may live for God _and do -something_." - -Always Miss Lyon emphasized the ideal of an education that should be -a training for service. To this end she decided upon the expedient -of coöperative housework to reduce running expenses, to develop -responsibility, and to provide healthful physical exercise. Long before -the day of gymnasiums and active sports, this educator recognized the -need of balanced development of physical as well as mental habits. - -"We need to introduce wise and healthy ideals not only into our minds, -but into our muscles," she said. "Besides, there is no discipline so -valuable as that which comes from fitting our labors into the work of -others for a common good." - -One difficulty after another was met and vanquished. When the digging -for the foundation of the first building was actually under way, -quicksand was discovered and another location had to be chosen. Then -it appeared that the bricks were faulty, which led to another delay. -After the work was resumed and all was apparently going well, the walls -suddenly collapsed. "Then," said the man in charge, "I did dread to see -Miss Lyon. Now, thought I, she will be discouraged." - -As he hurried towards the ruins, however, whom should he meet but Miss -Lyon herself, smiling radiantly! "How fortunate it is that it happened -while the men were at breakfast!" she exclaimed. "I understand that no -one has been injured!" - -The corner-stone was laid on a bright October day that seemed to have -turned all the gray chill of the dying year into a golden promise of -budding life after the time of frost. - -"The stones and brick and mortar speak a language which vibrates through -my soul," said Miss Lyon. "I have indeed lived to see the time when a -body of gentlemen have ventured to lay the corner-stone of an edifice -which will cost about fifteen thousand dollars--and for an institution -for women! Surely the Lord hath remembered our low estate. The work will -not stop with this foundation. Our enterprise may have to struggle -through embarrassments for years, but its influence will be felt." - -How lovingly she watched the work go on! When the interior was under -way, how carefully she considered each detail of closets, shelves, and -general arrangements for comfort and convenience! When the question -of equipment became urgent, how she worked to create an interest that -should express itself in gifts of bedroom furnishings, curtains, -crockery, and kitchen-ware, as well as books, desks, chairs, and -laboratory material! All sorts and conditions of contributions and -donations were welcomed. One was reminded of the way pioneer Harvard was -at first supported by gifts of "a cow or a sheep, corn or salt, a piece -of cloth or of silver plate." Four months before the day set for the -opening, not a third of the necessary furnishing had come in. - -"Everything that is done for us now," cried Miss Lyon, "seems like -giving bread to the hungry and cold water to the thirsty!" - -On the eighth of November, 1837, the day that Mount Holyoke opened -its door, all was excitement in South Hadley. Stages and private -carriages had for two days been arriving with road-weary, but eager, -young women. The sound of hammers greeted their ears. It appeared that -all the men, young and old, of the countryside had been pressed into -service. Some were tacking down carpet or matting, others were carrying -trunks, unloading furniture, and putting up beds. Miss Lyon seemed to -be everywhere, greeting each new-comer with a word that showed that she -already knew her as an individual, putting the shy and homesick girls to -work, taking a cup of tea to one who was overtired from her journey, and -directing the placing of furniture and the unpacking of supplies. - -It might well have seemed to those first arrivals that they must -live through a period of preparation before a reluctant beginning of -regular work could be achieved, but in the midst of all the noise of -house-settling and the fever of uncompleted entrance examinations -the opening bell sounded on schedule time and classes began at once. -What seemed, at first glance, hopeless confusion became ordered and -stimulating activity through the generalship and inspiration of one -woman whose watchword was: "Do the best you can _now_. Do not lose one -golden opportunity for doing by merely getting ready to do something. -Always remember that what ought to be done can be done." - -This spirit of assured power--the will to do--became the spirit of those -who worked with her, and was in time recognized as "the Mount Holyoke -spirit." - -"I can see Miss Lyon now as vividly as if it were only yesterday that I -arrived, tired, hungry, and fearful, into the strange new world of the -seminary," said a white-haired grandmother, her spectacles growing misty -as she looked back across the sixty-odd years that separated her from -the experiences that she was recalling. - -"Tell me what you remember most about her," urged her vivacious -granddaughter, a Mount Holyoke freshman, home for her Christmas -vacation. "Was she really such a wonder as they all say?" - -"Many pictures come to me of Miss Lyon that are much more vivid than -those of people I saw yesterday," pondered the grandmother. "But it -was, I think, in morning exercises in seminary hall that she impressed -us most. Those who listened to her earnest words and looked into her -face alight with feeling could not but remember. Her large blue eyes -looked down upon us as if she held us all in her heart. What was the -secret of her power! My dear, she _was power_. All that she taught, she -was. And so while her words awakened, her example--the life-giving touch -of her life--gave power to do and to endure." - -The young girl's bright face was turned thoughtfully towards the fire, -but the light that shone in her eyes was more than the reflected glow -from the cheerful logs. "It is good to think that a woman can live like -that in her work," she ventured softly. - -The grandmother's face showed an answering glow. "There are some things -that cannot grow old and die," she said. "One of them is a spirit like -Mary Lyon's. When they told us that she had died, we knew that only her -bodily presence had been removed. She still lived in our midst--we heard -the ring of her voice in the words we read, in the words our hearts -told us she would say; we even heard the ring of her laugh! And to-day -you may be sure that the woman-pioneer who had the faith to plant the -first college for women in America, lives by that faith, not only in her -own Mount Holyoke, but in the larger lives of all the women who have -profited by her labors." - - - - -"THE PRINCESS" OF WELLESLEY: ALICE FREEMAN PALMER - - - - - Our echoes roll from soul to soul, - And grow forever and forever. - - TENNYSON. - - - - -"THE PRINCESS" OF WELLESLEY - - -This is the story of a princess of our own time and our own America--a -princess who, while little more than a girl herself, was chosen to -rule a kingdom of girls. It is a little like the story of Tennyson's -"Princess," with her woman's kingdom, and very much like the happy, -old-fashioned fairy-tale. - -We have come to think it is only in fairy-tales that a golden destiny -finds out the true, golden heart, and, even though she masquerades as -a goose-girl, discovers the "kingly child" and brings her to a waiting -throne. We are tempted to believe that the chance of birth and the gifts -of wealth are the things that spell opportunity and success. But this -princess was born in a little farm-house, to a daily round of hard work -and plain living. That it was also a life of high thinking and rich -enjoyment of what each day brought, proved her indeed a "kingly child." - -"Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp of emperors -ridiculous!" said the sage of Concord. So it was with little Alice -Freeman. As she picked wild strawberries on the hills, and climbed the -apple-tree to lie for a blissful minute in a nest of swaying blossoms -under the blue sky, she was, as she said, "happy all over." The -trappings of royalty can add nothing to one who knows how to be royally -happy in gingham. - -But Alice was not always following the pasture path to her friendly -brook, or running across the fields with the calling wind, or dancing -with her shadow in the barn-yard, where even the prosy hens stopped -pecking corn for a minute to watch. She had work to do for Mother. -When she was only four, she could dry the dishes without dropping one; -and when she was six, she could be trusted to keep the three toddlers -younger than herself out of mischief. - -"My little daughter is learning to be a real little mother," said Mrs. -Freeman, as she went about her work of churning and baking without an -anxious thought. - -[Illustration: Alice Freeman Palmer] - -It was Sister Alice who pointed out the robin's nest, and found funny -turtles and baby toads to play with. She took the little brood with her -to hunt eggs in the barn and to see the ducks sail around like a fleet -of boats on the pond. When Ella and Fred were wakened by a fearsome -noise at night, they crept up close to their little mother, who told -them a story about the funny screech-owl in its hollow-tree home. - -"It is the ogre of mice and bats, but not of little boys and girls," she -said. - -"It sounds funny now, Alice," they whispered. "It's all right when we -can touch you." - -When Alice was seven a change came in the home. The father and mother -had some serious talks, and then it was decided that Father should go -away for a time, for two years, to study to be a doctor. - -"It is hard to be chained to one kind of life when all the time you are -sure that you have powers and possibilities that have never had a chance -to come out in the open," she heard her father say one evening. "I have -always wanted to be a doctor; I can never be more than a half-hearted -farmer." - -"You must go to Albany now, James," said the dauntless wife. "I can -manage the farm until you get through your course at the medical -college; and then, when you are doing work into which you can put your -whole heart, a better time must come for all of us." - -"How can you possibly get along?" he asked in amazement. "How can I -leave you for two years to be a farmer, and father and mother, too?" - -"There is a little bank here," she said, taking down a jar from a high -shelf in the cupboard and jingling its contents merrily. "I have been -saving bit by bit for just this sort of thing. And Alice will help me," -she added, smiling at the child who had been standing near looking from -father to mother in wide-eyed wonder. "You will be the little mother -while I take father's place for a time, won't you, Alice?" - -"It will be cruelly hard on you all," said the father, soberly. "I -cannot make it seem right." - -"Think how much good you can do afterward," urged his wife. "The time -will go very quickly when we are all thinking of that. It is not hard -to endure for a little for the sake of 'a gude time coming'--a better -time not only for us, but for many besides. For I know you will be the -true sort of doctor, James." - -Alice never quite knew how they did manage during those two years, but -she was quite sure that work done for the sake of a good to come is all -joy. - -"I owe much of what I am to my milkmaid days," she said. - -She was always sorry for children who do not grow up with the sights and -sounds of the country. "One is very near to all the simple, real things -of life on a farm," she used to say. "There is a dewy freshness about -the early out-of-door experiences, and a warm wholesomeness about tasks -that are a part of the common lot. A country child develops, too, a -responsibility--a power to do and to contrive--that the city child, who -sees everything come ready to hand from a near-by store, cannot possibly -gain. However much some of my friends may deplore my own early struggle -with poverty and hard work, I can heartily echo George Eliot's boast: - - "But were another childhood-world my share, - I would be born a little sister there." - -When Alice was ten years old, the family moved from the farm to the -village of Windsor, where Dr. Freeman entered upon his life as a doctor, -and where Alice's real education began. From the time she was four she -had, for varying periods, sat on a bench in the district school, but for -the most part she had taught herself. At Windsor Academy she had the -advantage of a school of more than average efficiency. - -"Words do not tell what this old school and place meant to me as a -girl," she said years afterward. "Here we gathered abundant Greek, -Latin, French, and mathematics; here we were taught truthfulness, to be -upright and honorable; here we had our first loves, our first ambitions, -our first dreams, and some of our first disappointments. We owe a large -debt to Windsor Academy for the solid groundwork of education that it -laid." - -More important than the excellent curriculum and wholesome associations, -however, was the influence of a friendship with one of the teachers, a -young Harvard graduate who was supporting himself while preparing for -the ministry. He recognized the rare nature and latent powers of the -girl of fourteen, and taught her the delights of friendship with Nature -and with books, and the joy of a mind trained to see and appreciate. He -gave her an understanding of herself, and aroused the ambition, which -grew into a fixed resolve, to go to college. But more than all, he -taught her the value of personal influence. - -"It is people that count," she used to say. "The truth and beauty that -are locked up in books and in nature, to which only a few have the key, -begin really to live when they are made over into human character. -Disembodied ideas may mean little or nothing; it is when they are 'made -flesh' that they can speak to our hearts and minds." - -As Alice drove about with her father when he went to see his patients -and saw how this true "doctor of the old school" was a physician to the -mind as well as the body of those who turned to him for help, she came -to a further realization of the truth: It is people that count. - -"It must be very depressing to have to associate with bodies and their -ills all the time," she ventured one day when her father seemed more -than usually preoccupied. She never forgot the light that shone in his -eyes as he turned and looked at her. - -"We can't begin to minister to the body until we understand that spirit -is all," he said. "What we are pleased to call _body_ is but one -expression--and a most marvelous expression--of the hidden life - - "that impels - All thinking things, all objects of all thought, - And rolls through all things." - -It seemed to Alice that this might be a favorable time to broach the -subject of college. He looked at her in utter amazement; few girls -thought of wanting more than a secondary education in those days, and -there were still fewer opportunities for them. - -"Why, daughter," he exclaimed, "a little more Latin and mathematics -won't make you a better home-maker! Why should you set your heart on -this thing?" - -"I must go, Father," she answered steadily. "It is not a sudden notion; -I have realized for a long time that I cannot live my life--the life -that I feel I have it within me to live--without this training. I want -to be a teacher--the best kind of a teacher--just as you wanted to be a -doctor." - -"But, my dear child," he protested, much troubled, "it will be as much -as we can manage to see one of you through college, and that one should -be Fred, who will have a family to look out for one of these days." - -"If you let me have this chance, Father," said Alice, earnestly, "I'll -promise that you will never regret it. I'll help to give Fred his -chance, and see that the girls have the thing they want as well." - -In the end Alice had her way. It seemed as if the strength of her -single-hearted longing had power to compel a reluctant fate. In June, -1872, when but a little over seventeen, she went to Ann Arbor to take -the entrance examinations for the University of Michigan, a careful -study of catalogues having convinced her that the standard of work was -higher there than in any college then open to women. - -A disappointment met her at the outset. Her training at Windsor, -good as it was, did not prepare her for the university requirements. -"Conditions" loomed mountain high, and the examiners recommended that -she spend another year in preparation. Her intelligence and character -had won the interest of President Angell, however, and he asked that she -be granted a six-weeks' trial. His confidence in her was justified; for -she not only proved her ability to keep up with her class, but steadily -persevered in her double task until all conditions were removed. - -The college years were "a glory instead of a grind," in spite of the -ever-pressing necessity for strict economy in the use of time and -money. Her sense of values--"the ability to see large things large -and small things small," which has been called the best measure of -education,--showed a wonderful harmony of powers. While the mind was -being stored with knowledge and the intellect trained to clear, orderly -thinking, there was never a "too-muchness" in this direction that -meant a "not-enoughness" in the realm of human relationships. Always -she realized that it is people that count, and her supreme test of -education as of life was its "consecrated serviceableness." President -Angell in writing of her said: - - One of her most striking characteristics in college was her - warm and demonstrative sympathy with her circle of friends. - Her soul seemed bubbling over with joy, which she wished to - share with the other girls. While she was therefore in the most - friendly relations with all those girls then in college, she - was the radiant center of a considerable group whose tastes - were congenial with her own. Without assuming or striving for - leadership, she could not but be to a certain degree a leader - among these, some of whom have attained positions only less - conspicuous for usefulness than her own. Wherever she went, her - genial, outgoing spirit seemed to carry with her an atmosphere - of cheerfulness and joy. - -In the middle of her junior year, news came from her father of a more -than usual financial stress, owing to a flood along the Susquehanna, -which had swept away his hope of present gain from a promising stretch -of woodland. It seemed clear to Alice that the time had come when she -must make her way alone. Through the recommendation of President Angell -she secured a position as teacher of Latin and Greek in the High School -at Ottawa, Illinois, where she taught for five months, receiving enough -money to carry her through the remainder of her college course. The -omitted junior work was made up partly during the summer vacation and -partly in connection with the studies of the senior year. An extract -from a letter home will tell how the busy days went: - - This is the first day of vacation. I have been so busy this - year that it seems good to get a change, even though I do keep - right on here at work. For some time I have been giving a young - man lessons in Greek every Saturday. I have had two junior - speeches already, and there are still more. Several girls from - Flint tried to have me go home with them for the vacation, but I - made up my mind to stay and do what I could for myself and the - other people here. A young Mr. M. is going to recite to me every - day in Virgil; so with teaching and all the rest I sha'n't have - time to be homesick, though it will seem rather lonely when the - other girls are gone and I don't hear the college bell for two - weeks. - -Miss Freeman's early teaching showed the vitalizing spirit that marked -all of her relations with people. - -"She had a way of making you feel 'all dipped in sunshine,'" one of her -girls said. - -"Everything she taught seemed a part of herself," another explained. "It -wasn't just something in a book that she had to teach and you had to -learn. She made every page of our history seem a part of present life -and interests. We saw and felt the things we talked about." - -The fame of this young teacher's influence traveled all the way from -Michigan, where she was principal of the Saginaw High School, to -Massachusetts. Mr. Henry Durant, the founder of Wellesley, asked her -to come to the new college as teacher of mathematics. She declined the -call, however, and, a year later, a second and more urgent invitation. -Her family had removed to Saginaw, where Dr. Freeman was slowly building -up a practice, and it would mean leaving a home that needed her. The -one brother was now in the university; Ella was soon to be married; and -Stella, the youngest, who was most like Alice in temperament and tastes, -was looking forward hopefully to college. - -But at the time when Dr. Freeman was becoming established and the -financial outlook began to brighten, the darkest days that the family -had ever known were upon them. Stella, the chief joy and hope of them -all, fell seriously ill. The "little mother" loved this "starlike girl" -as her own child, and looked up to her as one who would reach heights -her feet could never climb. When she died it seemed to Alice that she -had lost the one chance for a perfectly understanding and inspiring -comradeship that life offered. At this time a third call came to -Wellesley,--as head of the department of history,--and hoping that a new -place with new problems would give her a fresh hold on joy, she accepted. - -Into her college work the young woman of twenty-four put all the power -and richness of her radiant personality. She found peace and happiness -in untiring effort, and her girls found in her the most inspiring -teacher they had ever known. She went to the heart of the history she -taught, and she went to the hearts of her pupils. - -"She seemed to care for each of us--to find each as interesting and -worth while as if there were no other person in the world," one of her -students said. - -Mr. Durant had longed to find just such a person to build on the -foundation he had laid. It was in her first year that he pointed her out -to one of the trustees. - -"Do you see that little dark-eyed girl? She will be the next president -of Wellesley," he said. - -"Surely she is much too young and inexperienced for such a -responsibility," protested the other, looking at him in amazement. - -"As for the first, it is a fault we easily outgrow," said Mr. Durant, -dryly, "and as for her inexperience--well, I invite you to visit one of -her classes." - -The next year, on the death of Mr. Durant, she was made acting president -of the college, and the year following she inherited the title and -honors, as well as the responsibilities and opportunities, of the -office. The Princess had come into her kingdom. - -The election caused a great stir among the students, particularly the -irrepressible seniors. It was wonderful and most inspiring that their -splendid Miss Freeman, who was the youngest member of the faculty, -should have won this honor. "Why, she was only a girl like themselves! -The time of strict observances and tiresome regulations of every sort -was at an end. Miss Freeman seemed to sense the prevailing mood, and, -without waiting for a formal assembly, asked the seniors to meet her -in her rooms. In they poured, overflowing chairs, tables, and ranging -themselves about on the floor in animated, expectant groups. The new -head of the college looked at them quietly for a minute before she began -to speak. - -"I have sent for you seniors," she said at last seriously, "to ask your -advice. You may have heard that I have been called to the position -of acting president of your college. I am, of course, too young; and -the duties are, as you know, too heavy for the strongest to carry -alone. If I must manage alone, there is only one course--to decline. -It has, however, occurred to me that my seniors might be willing to -help by looking after the order of the college and leaving me free for -administration. Shall I accept? Shall we work things out together?" - -The hearty response made it clear that the princess was to rule not -only by "divine right," but also by the glad "consent of the governed." -Perhaps it was her youth and charm and the romance of her brilliant -success that won for her the affectionate title of "The Princess"; -perhaps it was her undisputed sway in her kingdom of girls. It was said -that her radiant, "outgoing spirit" was felt in the atmosphere of the -place and in all the graduates. Her spirit became the Wellesley spirit. - -"What did she do besides turning all of you into an adoring band of -Freeman-followers?" a Wellesley woman was asked. - -The reply came without a moment's hesitation: "She had the life-giving -power of a true creator, one who can entertain a vision of the ideal, -and then work patiently bit by bit to 'carve it in the marble real.' -She built the Wellesley we all know and love, making it practical, -constructive, fine, generous, human, spiritual." - -For six years the Princess of Wellesley ruled her kingdom wisely. She -raised the standard of work, enlisted the interest and support of those -in a position to help, added to the buildings and equipment, and won the -enthusiastic cooperation of students, faculty, and public. Then, one -day, she voluntarily stepped down from her throne, leaving others to go -on with the work she had begun. She married Professor George Herbert -Palmer of Harvard, and, (quite in the manner of the fairy-tale) "lived -happily ever after." - -"What a disappointment!" some of her friends said. "That a woman of such -unusual powers and gifts should deliberately leave a place of large -usefulness and influence to shut herself up in the concerns of a single -home!" - -"There is nothing better than the making of a true home," said Alice -Freeman Palmer. "I shall not be shut away from the concerns of others, -but more truly a part of them. 'For love is fellow-service,' I believe." - -The home near Harvard Yard was soon felt to be the most free and perfect -expression of her generous nature. Its happiness made all life seem -happier. Shy undergraduates and absorbed students who had withdrawn -overmuch within themselves and their pet problems found there a thaw -after their "winter of discontent." Wellesley girls--even in those days -before automobiles--did not feel fifteen miles too great a distance to -go for a cup of tea and a half-hour by the fire. - -[Illustration: College Hall, destroyed by fire in 1914] - -[Illustration: Tower Court, which stands on the site of College Hall] - -Many were surprised that Mrs. Palmer never seemed worn by the -unstinted giving of herself to the demands of others on her time and -sympathy. The reason was that their interests were her interests. Her -spirit was indeed "outgoing"; there was no wall hedging in a certain -number of things and people as hers, with the rest of the world outside. -As we have seen, people counted with her supremely; and the ideas which -moved her were those which she found embodied in the joys and sorrows of -human hearts. - -Mrs. Palmer wrote of her days at this time: - - I don't know what will happen if life keeps on growing so - much better and brighter each year. How does your cup manage to - hold so much? Mine is running over, and I keep getting larger - cups; but I can't contain all my blessings and gladness. We are - both so well and busy that the days are never half long enough. - -Life held, indeed, a full measure of opportunities for service. -Wellesley claimed her as a member of its executive committee, and other -colleges sought her counsel. When Chicago University was founded, she -was induced to serve as its Dean of Women until the opportunities for -girls there were wisely established. She worked energetically raising -funds for Radcliffe and her own Wellesley. Throughout the country her -wisdom as an educational expert was recognized, and her advice sought -in matters of organization and administration. For several years, as a -member of the Massachusetts State Board of Education, she worked early -and late to improve the efficiency and influence of the normal schools. -She was a public servant who brought into all her contact with groups -and masses of people the simple directness and intimate charm that -marked her touch with individuals. - -"How is it that you are able to do so much more than other people?" -asked a tired, nervous woman, who stopped Mrs. Palmer for a word at the -close of one of her lectures. - -"Because," she answered, with the sudden gleam of a smile, "I haven't -any nerves nor any conscience, and my husband says I haven't any -backbone." - -It was true that she never worried. She had early learned to live one -day at a time, without "looking before and after." And nobody knew -better than Mrs. Palmer the renewing power of joy. She could romp with -some of her very small friends in the half-hour before an important -meeting; go for a long walk or ride along country lanes when a vexing -problem confronted her; or spend a quiet evening by the fire reading -aloud from one of her favorite poets at the end of a busy day. - -For fifteen years Mrs. Palmer lived this life of joyful, untiring -service. Then, at the time of her greatest power and usefulness, she -died. The news came as a personal loss to thousands. Just as Wellesley -had mourned her removal to Cambridge, so a larger world mourned her -earthly passing. But her friends soon found that it was impossible to -grieve or to feel for a moment that she was dead. The echoes of her life -were living echoes in the world of those who knew her. - -There are many memorials speaking in different places of her work. In -the chapel at Wellesley, where it seems to gather at every hour a golden -glory of light, is the lovely transparent marble by Daniel Chester -French, eternally bearing witness to the meaning of her influence with -her girls. In the tower at Chicago the chimes "make music, joyfully to -recall," her labors there. But more lasting than marble or bronze is the -living memorial in the hearts and minds "made better by her presence." -For it is, indeed, people that count, and in the richer lives of many -the enkindling spirit of Alice Freeman Palmer still lives. - - - - -OUR LADY OF THE RED CROSS: CLARA BARTON - - - - - Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,-- - Himself, his hungering neighbor, and Me. - - "The Vision of Sir Launfal."--LOWELL. - - - - -OUR LADY OF THE RED CROSS - - -"A Christmas baby! Now isn't that the best kind of a Christmas gift for -us all?" cried Captain Stephen Barton, who took the interesting flannel -bundle from the nurse's arms and held it out proudly to the assembled -family. - -No longed-for heir to a waiting kingdom could have received a more royal -welcome than did that little girl who appeared at the Barton home in -Oxford, Massachusetts, on Christmas Day, 1821. Ten years had passed -since a child had come to the comfortable farm-house, and the four big -brothers and sisters were very sure that they could not have had a more -precious gift than this Christmas baby. No one doubted that she deserved -a distinguished name, but it was due to Sister Dorothy, who was a young -lady of romantic seventeen and something of a reader, that she was -called Clarissa Harlowe, after a well-known heroine of fiction. The name -which this heroine of real life actually bore and made famous, however, -was Clara Barton; for the Christmas baby proved to be a gift not only -to a little group of loving friends, but also to a great nation and to -humanity. - -The sisters and brothers were teachers rather than playmates for Clara, -and her education began so early that she had no recollection of the way -they led her toddling steps through the beginnings of book-learning. On -her first day at school she announced to the amazed teacher who tried to -put a primer into her hands that she could spell the "artichoke words." -The teacher had other surprises besides the discovery that this mite of -three was acquainted with three-syllabled lore. - -Brother Stephen, who was a wizard with figures, had made the sums with -which he covered her slate seem a fascinating sort of play at a period -when most infants are content with counting the fingers of one hand. All -other interests, however, paled before the stories that her father told -her of great men and their splendid deeds. - -Captain Barton was amused one day at the discovery that his precocious -daughter, who always eagerly encored his tales of conquerors and -leaders, thought of their greatness in images of quite literal and -realistic bigness. A president must, for instance, be as large as a -house, and a vice-president as spacious as a barn door at the very -least. But these somewhat crude conceptions did not put a check on the -epic recitals of the retired officer, who, in the intervals of active -service in plowed fields or in pastures where his thoroughbreds grazed -with their mettlesome colts, liked to live over the days when he served -under "Mad Anthony" Wayne in the Revolutionary War, and had a share in -the thrilling adventures of the Western frontier. - -Clara was only five years old when Brother David taught her to ride. -"Learning to ride is just learning a horse," said this daring youth, who -was the "Buffalo Bill" of the surrounding country. - -"How can I learn a horse, David?" quavered the child, as the -high-spirited animals came whinnying to the pasture bars at her -brother's call. - -"Catch hold of his mane, Clara, and just feel the horse a part of -yourself--the big half for the time being," said David, as he put her on -the back of a colt that was broken only to bit and halter, and, easily -springing on his favorite, held the reins of both in one hand, while he -steadied the small sister with the other by seizing hold of one excited -foot. - -They went over the fields at a gallop that first day, and soon little -Clara and her mount understood each other so well that her riding feats -became almost as far-famed as those of her brother. The time came when -her skill and confidence on horseback--her power to feel the animal she -rode a part of herself and keep her place in any sort of saddle through -night-long gallops--meant the saving of many lives. - -David taught her many other practical things that helped to make her -steady and self-reliant in the face of emergencies. She learned, for -instance, to drive a nail straight, and to tie a knot that would hold. -Eye and hand were trained to work together with quick decision that made -for readiness and efficiency in dealing with a situation, whether it -meant the packing of a box, or first-aid measures after an accident on -the skating-pond. - -She was always an outdoor child, with dogs, horses, and ducks for -playfellows. The fuzzy ducklings were the best sort of dolls. Sometimes -when wild ducks visited the pond and all her waddling favorites began to -flap their wings excitedly, it seemed that her young heart felt, too, -the call of large, free spaces. - -"The only real fun is to do things," she used to say. - -She rode after the cows, helped in the milking and churning, and -followed her father about, dropping potatoes in their holes or helping -weed the garden. Once, when the house was being painted, she begged to -be allowed to assist in the work, even learning to grind the pigments -and mix the colors. The family was at first amused and then amazed at -the persistency of her application as day after day she donned her apron -and fell to work. - -They were not less astonished when she wanted to learn the work of the -weavers in her brothers' satinet mills. At first, her mother refused -this extraordinary request; but Stephen, who understood the intensity -of her craving to do things, took her part; and at the end of her first -week at the flying shuttle Clara had the satisfaction of finding that -her cloth was passed as first-quality goods. Her career as a weaver was -of short duration, however, owing to a fire which destroyed the mills. - -The young girl was as enthusiastic in play as at work. Whether it was a -canter over the fields on Billy while her dog, Button, dashed along at -her side, his curly white tail bobbing ecstatically, or a coast down the -rolling hills in winter, she entered into the sport of the moment with -her whole heart. - -When there was no outlet for her superabundant energy, she was genuinely -unhappy. Then it was that a self-consciousness and morbid sensitiveness -became so evident that it was a source of real concern to her friends. - -"People say that I must have been born brave," said Clara Barton. -"Why, I seem to remember nothing but terrors in my early days. I was a -shrinking little bundle of fears--fears of thunder, fears of strange -faces, fears of my strange self." It was only when thought and feeling -were merged in the zest of some interesting activity that she lost her -painful shyness and found herself. - -When she was eleven years old she had her first experience as a nurse. -A fall which gave David a serious blow on the head, together with the -bungling ministrations of doctors, who, when in doubt, had recourse only -to the heroic treatment of bleeding and leeches, brought the vigorous -young brother to a protracted invalidism. For two years Clara was his -constant and devoted attendant. She schooled herself to remain calm, -cheerful, and resourceful in the presence of suffering and exacting -demands. When others gave way to fatigue or "nerves," her wonderful -instinct for action kept her, child though she was, at her post. Her -sympathy expressed itself in untiring service. - -In the years that followed her brother's recovery Clara became a real -problem to herself and her friends. The old blighting sensitiveness made -her school-days restless and unhappy in spite of her alert mind and many -interests. - -At length her mother, at her wit's end because of this baffling, -morbid strain in her remarkable daughter, was advised by a man of -sane judgment and considerable understanding of child nature, to throw -responsibility upon her and give her a school to teach. - -It happened, therefore, that when Clara Barton was fifteen she "put -down her skirts, put up her hair," and entered upon her successful -career as a teacher. She liked the children and believed in them, -entering enthusiastically into their concerns, and opening the way -to new interests. When asked how she managed the discipline of the -troublesome ones, she said, "The children give no trouble; I never -have to discipline at all," quite unconscious of the fact that her -vital influence gave her a control that made assertion of authority -unnecessary. - -"When the boys found that I was as strong as they were and could teach -them something on the playground, they thought that perhaps we might -discover together a few other worth-while things in school hours," she -said. - -For eighteen years Clara Barton was a teacher. Always learning herself -while teaching others, she decided in 1852 to enter Clinton Liberal -Institute in New York as a pupil for graduation, for there was then -no college whose doors were open to women. When she had all that the -Institute could give her, she looked about for new fields for effort. - -In Bordentown, New Jersey, she found there was a peculiar need for some -one who would bring to her task pioneer zeal as well as the passion for -teaching. At that time there were no public schools in the town or, -indeed, in the State. - -"The people who pose as respectable are too proud and too prejudiced to -send their boys and girls to a free pauper school, and in the meantime -all the children run wild," Miss Barton was told. - -"We have tried again and again," said a discouraged young pedagogue. "It -is impossible to do anything in this place." - -"Give me three months, and I will teach free," said Clara Barton. - -This was just the sort of challenge she loved. There was something to -be done. She began with six unpromising gamins in a dilapidated, empty -building. In a month her quarters proved too narrow. Each youngster -became an enthusiastic and effectual advertisement. As always, her -success lay in an understanding of her pupils as individuals, and -a quickening interest that brought out the latent possibilities of -each. The school of six grew in a year to one of six hundred, and the -thoroughly converted citizens built an eight-room school-house where -Miss Barton remained as principal and teacher until a breakdown of her -voice made a complete rest necessary. - -The weak throat soon made it evident that her teaching days were over; -but she found at the same time in Washington, where she had gone for -recuperation, a new work. - -"Living is doing," she said. "Even while we say there is nothing we can -do, we stumble over the opportunities for service that we are passing by -in our tear-blinded self-pity." - -The over-sensitive girl had learned her lesson well. Life offered moment -by moment too many chances for action for a single worker to turn aside -to bemoan his own particular condition. - -The retired teacher became a confidential secretary in the office of -the Commissioner of Patents. Great confusion existed in the Patent -Office at that time because some clerks had betrayed the secrets of -certain inventions. Miss Barton was the first woman to be employed in a -Government department; and while ably handling the critical situation -that called for all her energy and resourcefulness, she had to cope -not only with the scarcely veiled enmity of those fellow-workers who -were guilty or jealous, but also with the open antagonism of the rank -and file of the clerks, who were indignant because a woman had been -placed in a position of responsibility and influence. She endured covert -slander and deliberate disrespect, letting her character and the quality -of her work speak for themselves. They spoke so eloquently that when -a change in political control caused her removal, she was before long -recalled to straighten out the tangle that had ensued. - -At the outbreak of the Civil War Miss Barton was, therefore, at the very -storm-center. - -The early days of the conflict found her binding up the wounds of the -Massachusetts boys who had been attacked by a mob while passing through -Baltimore, and who for a time were quartered in the Capitol. Some of -these recruits were boys from Miss Barton's own town who had been her -pupils, and all were dear to her because they were offering their lives -for the Union. We find her with other volunteer nurses caring for the -injured, feeding groups who gathered about her in the Senate Chamber, -and, from the desk of the President of the Senate, reading them the home -news from the Worcester papers. - -Meeting the needs as they presented themselves in that time of general -panic and distress, she sent to the Worcester "Spy" appeals for money -and supplies. Other papers took up the work, and soon Miss Barton had to -secure space in a large warehouse to hold the provisions that poured in. - -Not for many days, however, did she remain a steward of supplies. When -she met the transports which brought the wounded into the city, her -whole nature revolted at the sight of the untold suffering and countless -deaths which were resulting from delay in caring for the injured. Her -flaming ardor, her rare executive ability, and her tireless persistency -won for her the confidence of those in command, and, though it was -against all traditions, to say nothing of iron-clad army regulations, -she obtained permission to go with her stores of food, bandages, and -medicines to the firing-line, where relief might be given on the -battle-field at the time of direst need. The girl who had been a "bundle -of fears" had grown into the woman who braved every danger and any -suffering to carry help to her fellow-countrymen. - -People who spoke of her rare initiative and practical judgment had -little comprehension of the absolute simplicity and directness of her -methods. She managed the sulky, rebellious drivers of her army-wagons, -who had little respect for orders that placed a woman in control, in the -same way that she had managed children in school. Without relaxing her -firmness, she spoke to them courteously, and called them to share the -warm dinner she had prepared and spread out in appetizing fashion. When, -after clearing away the dishes, she was sitting alone by the fire, the -men returned in an awkward, self-conscious group. - -"We didn't come to get warm," said their spokesman, as she kindly -moved to make room for them at the flames, "we come to tell you we are -ashamed. The truth is we didn't want to come. We know there is fighting -ahead, and we've seen enough of that for men who don't carry muskets, -only whips; and then we've never seen a train under charge of a woman -before, and we couldn't understand it. We've been mean and contrary all -day, and you've treated us as if we'd been the general and his staff, -and given us the best meal we've had in two years. We want to ask your -forgiveness, and we sha'n't trouble you again." - -She found that a comfortable bed had been arranged for her in her -ambulance, a lantern was hanging from the roof, and when next morning -she emerged from her shelter, a steaming breakfast awaited her and a -devoted corps of assistants stood ready for orders. - -"I had cooked my last meal for my drivers," said Clara Barton. "These -men remained with me six months through frost and snow and march and -camp and battle; they nursed the sick, dressed the wounded, soothed the -dying, and buried the dead; and, if possible, they grew kinder and -gentler every day." - -An incident that occurred at Antietam is typical of her quiet -efficiency. According to her directions, the wounded were being fed with -bread and crackers moistened in wine, when one of her assistants came to -report that the entire supply was exhausted, while many helpless ones -lay on the field unfed. Miss Barton's quick eye had noted that the boxes -from which the wine was taken had fine Indian meal as packing. Six large -kettles were at once unearthed from the farm-house in which they had -taken quarters, and soon her men were carrying buckets of hot gruel for -miles over the fields where lay hundreds of wounded and dying. Suddenly, -in the midst of her labors, Miss Barton came upon the surgeon in charge -sitting alone, gazing at a small piece of tallow candle which flickered -uncertainly in the middle of the table. - -"Tired, Doctor?" she asked sympathetically. - -"Tired indeed!" he replied bitterly; "tired of such heartless neglect -and carelessness. What am I to do for my thousand wounded men with -night here and that inch of candle all the light I have or can get?" - -Miss Barton took him by the arm and led him to the door, where he could -see near the barn scores of lanterns gleaming like stars. - -"What is that!" he asked amazedly. - -"The barn is lighted," she replied, "and the house will be directly." - -"Where did you get them!" he gasped. - -"Brought them with me." - -"How many have you?" - -"All you want--four boxes." - -The surgeon looked at her for a moment as if he were waking from a -dream; and then, as if it were the only answer he could make, fell to -work. And so it was invariably that she won her complete command of -people as she did of situations, by always proving herself equal to the -emergency of the moment. - -Though, as she said in explaining the tardiness of a letter, "my hands -complain a little of unaccustomed hardships," she never complained of -any ill, nor allowed any danger or difficulty to interrupt her work. - -"What are my puny ailments beside the agony of our poor shattered -boys lying helpless on the field?" she said. And so, while doctors and -officers wondered at her unlimited capacity for prompt and effective -action, the men who had felt her sympathetic touch and effectual aid -loved and revered her as "The Angel of the Battlefield." - -One incident well illustrates the characteristic confidence with which -she moved about amid scenes of terror and panic. At Fredericksburg, -when "every street was a firing-line and every house a hospital," she -was passing along when she had to step aside to allow a regiment of -infantry to sweep by. At that moment General Patrick caught sight of -her, and, thinking she was a bewildered resident of the city who had -been left behind in the general exodus, leaned from his saddle and said -reassuringly: - -"You are alone and in great danger, madam. Do you want protection?" - -Miss Barton thanked him with a smile, and said, looking about at the -ranks, "I believe I am the best-protected woman in the United States." - -The soldiers near overheard and cried out, "That's so! that's so!" And -the cheer that they gave was echoed by line after line until a mighty -shout went up as for a victory. - -The courtly old general looked about comprehendingly, and, bowing low, -said as he galloped away, "I believe you are right, madam." - -Clara Barton was present on sixteen battle-fields; she was eight months -at the siege of Charleston, and served for a considerable period in the -hospitals of Richmond. - -[Illustration: Clara Barton] - -When the war was ended and the survivors of the great armies were -marching homeward, her heart was touched by the distress in many -homes where sons and fathers and brothers were among those listed as -"missing." In all, there were 80,000 men of whom no definite report -could be given to their friends. She was assisting President Lincoln in -answering the hundreds of heartbroken letters, imploring news, which -poured in from all over the land when his tragic death left her alone -with the task. Then, as no funds were available to finance a thorough -investigation of every sort of record of States, hospitals, prisons, -and battle-fields, she maintained out of her own means a bureau to -prosecute the search. - -Four years were spent in this great labor, during which time Miss -Barton made many public addresses, the proceeds of which were devoted -to the cause. One evening in the winter of 1868, while in the midst -of a lecture, her voice suddenly left her. This was the beginning of -a complete nervous collapse. The hardships and prolonged strain had, -in spite of her robust constitution and iron will, told at last on the -endurance of that loyal worker. - -When able to travel, she went to Geneva, Switzerland, in the hope of -winning back her health and strength. Soon after her arrival she was -visited by the president and members of the "International Committee -for the Relief of the Wounded in War," who came to learn why the United -States had refused to sign the Treaty of Geneva, providing for the -relief of sick and wounded soldiers. Of all the civilized nations, our -great republic alone most unaccountably held aloof. - -Miss Barton at once set herself to learn all she could about the -ideals and methods of the International Red Cross, and during the -Franco-Prussian War she had abundant opportunity to see and experience -its practical working on the battle-field. - -At the outbreak of the war in 1870 she was urged to go as a leader, -taking the same part that she had borne in the Civil War. - -"I had not strength to trust for that," said Clara Barton, "and declined -with thanks, promising to follow in my own time and way; and I did -follow within a week. As I journeyed on," she continued, "I saw the -work of these Red Cross societies in the field accomplishing in four -months under their systematic organization what we failed to accomplish -in four years without it--no mistakes, no needless suffering, no waste, -no confusion, but order, plenty, cleanliness, and comfort wherever -that little flag made its way--a whole continent marshaled under the -banner of the Red Cross. As I saw all this and joined and worked in it, -you will not wonder that I said to myself 'if I live to return to my -country, I will try to make my people understand the Red Cross and that -treaty.'" - -Months of service in caring for the wounded and the helpless victims -of siege and famine were followed by a period of nervous exhaustion -from which she but slowly crept back to her former hold on health. At -last she was able to return to America to devote herself to bringing -her country into line with the Red Cross movement. She found that -traditionary prejudice against "entangling alliances with other powers," -together with a singular failure to comprehend the vital importance of -the matter, militated against the great cause. - -"Why should we make provision for the wounded?" it was said. "We shall -never have another war; we have learned our lesson." - -It came to Miss Barton then that the work of the Red Cross should -be extended to disasters, such as fires, floods, earthquakes, and -epidemics--"great public calamities which require, like war, prompt and -well-organized help." - -Years of devoted missionary work with preoccupied officials and a -heedless, short-sighted public at length bore fruit. After the Geneva -Treaty received the signature of President Arthur on March 1, 1882, it -was promptly ratified by the Senate, and the American National Red -Cross came into being, with Clara Barton as its first president. Through -her influence, too, the International Congress of Berne adopted the -"American Amendment," which dealt with the extension of the Red Cross to -relief measures in great calamities occurring in times of peace. - -The story of her life from this time on is one with the story of the -work of the Red Cross during the stress of such disasters as the -Mississippi River floods, the Texas famine in 1885, the Charleston -earthquake in 1886, the Johnstown flood in 1899, the Russian famine -in 1892, and the Spanish-American War. The prompt, efficient methods -followed in the relief of the flood sufferers along the Mississippi in -1884 may serve to illustrate the sane, constructive character of her -work. - -Supply centers were established, and a steamer chartered to ply back -and forth carrying help and hope to the distracted human creatures who -stood "wringing their hands on a frozen, fireless shore--with every -coal-pit filled with water." For three weeks she patrolled the river, -distributing food, clothing, and fuel, caring for the sick, and, in -order to establish at once normal conditions of life, providing the -people with many thousands of dollars' worth of building material, -seeds, and farm implements, thus making it possible for them to help -themselves and in work find a cure for their benumbing distress. - -"Our Lady of the Red Cross" lived past her ninetieth birthday, but her -real life is measured by deeds, not days. It was truly a long one, rich -in the joy of service. She abundantly proved the truth of the words: "We -gain in so far as we give. If we would find our life, we must be willing -to lose it." - - - - -A MAIDEN CRUSADER: FRANCES E. WILLARD - - - - - Instead of peace, I was to participate in war; instead of - the sweetness of home, I was to become a wanderer on the face - of the earth; but I have felt that a great promotion came to - me when I was counted worthy to be a worker in the organized - crusade for "God and Home and Native Land."... If I were asked - the mission of the ideal woman, I would say it is to make the - whole world homelike. The true woman will make every place she - enters homelike--and she will enter every place in this wide - world. - - FRANCES E. WILLARD. - - - - -A MAIDEN CRUSADER - - -There is no place like a young college town in a young country for -untroubled optimism. Hope blossoms there as nowhere else; the ideal ever -beckons at the next turn in the road. When Josiah Willard brought his -little family to Oberlin, it seemed to them all that a new golden age of -opportunity was theirs. Even Frances, who was little more than a baby, -drank in the spirit of the place with the air she breathed. - -It was not hard to believe in a golden age when one happened to see -little Frances, or "Frank," Willard dancing like a sunbeam about the -campus. She liked to play about the big buildings, where father went -every day with his big books, and watch for him to come out. Sometimes -one of the students would stop to speak to her; sometimes a group would -gather about while, with fair hair flying and small arms waving, in a -voice incredibly clear and bird-like, she "said a piece" that mother had -taught her. - -"Is that a little professorling?" asked a new-comer one day, attracted -by the child's cherub face and darting, fairylike ways. - -"Guess again!" returned a dignified senior. "Her father is one of the -students. Haven't you noticed that fine-looking Willard? The mother, -too, knows how to appreciate a college, I understand--used to be a -teacher back in New York where they came from." - -"You don't mean to say that this happy little goldfinch is the child of -two such solemn owls!" exclaimed the other. - -"Nothing of the sort. They are very wide-awake, alive sort of people, I -assure you,--the kind who'd make a success of anything. The father wants -to be a preacher, they say--wait, there he comes now!" - -It was plain to be seen that Mr. Willard was an alert, capable man and a -good father. The little girl ran to him with a joyful cry, and a sturdy -lad who had been trying to climb a tree bounded forward at the same -time. - -"I trust that my small fry haven't been making trouble," said the man, -giving his free hand to Frances and graciously allowing Oliver to carry -two of his armful of books. - -"Only making friends," the senior responded genially, "and one can see -that they can't very well help that." - -The Oberlin years were a happy, friendly time for all the family. While -both father and mother were working hard to make the most of their -long-delayed opportunity for a liberal education, they delighted above -all in the companionship of neighbors with tastes like their own. After -five years, however, it became clear that the future was not to be after -their planning. Mr. Willard's health failed, and a wise doctor said that -he must leave his book-world, and take up a free, active life in the -open. So the little family joined the army of westward-moving pioneers. - -Can you picture the three prairie-schooners that carried them and all -their goods to the new home? The father drove the first, Oliver geehawed -proudly from the high perch of the next, and mother sat in the third, -with Frances and little sister Mary on a cushioned throne made out of -father's topsyturvy desk. For nearly thirty days the little caravan made -its way--now through forests, now across great sweeping prairies, now -over bumping corduroy roads that crossed stretches of swampy ground. -They cooked their bacon and potatoes, gypsy-fashion, on the ground, and -slept under the white hoods of their long wagons, when they were not -kept awake by the howling of wolves. - -When Sunday came, they rested wherever the day found them--sometimes on -the rolling prairie, where their only shelter from rain and sun was the -homely schooner, but where at night they could look up at the great tent -of the starry heavens; sometimes in the cathedral of the forest, where -they found Jack-in-the-pulpit preaching to the other wild-flowers and -birds and breezes singing an anthem of praise. - -[Illustration: _Photo by Brown Bros._ - -Frances E. Willard] - -It was truly a new world through which they made their way--beginnings -all about--the roughest, crudest sort of beginnings, glorified by the -brightest hopes. Tiny cabins were planted on the edge of the prairies; -rough huts of logs were dropped down in clearings in the forest. -Everywhere people were working with an energy that could not be -daunted--felling trees, sowing, harvesting, building. As they passed by -the end of Lake Michigan they caught a glimpse of a small, struggling -village in the midst of a dark, hopeless-looking morass, from which they -turned aside on seeing the warning sign _No bottom here_. That little -settlement in the swamp was Chicago. - -Northward they journeyed to Wisconsin, where on the bluffs above Rock -River, not far from Janesville, they found a spot with fertile prairie -on one side and sheltering, wooded hills on the other. It seemed as if -the place fairly called to them: "This is home. You are my people. My -fields and hills and river have been waiting many a year just for you!" - -Here Mr. Willard planted the roof-tree, using timber that his own ax -had wrested from the forest. Year by year it grew with their life. -"Forest Home," as they lovingly called it, was a low, rambling dwelling, -covered with trailing vines and all but hidden away in a grove of oaks -and evergreens. It seemed as if Nature had taken over the work of their -hands--house, barns, fields, and orchards--and made them her dearest -care. Here were people after her own heart, people who went out eagerly -to meet and use the things that each day brought. They found real zest -in plowing fields, laying fences, raising cattle, and learning the ways -of soil and weather. They learned how to keep rats and gophers from -devouring their crops, how to bank up the house as a protection from -hurricanes, and how to fight the prairie fires with fire. - -Frank Willard grew as the trees grew, quite naturally, gathering -strength from the life about her. She had her share in the daily tasks; -she had, too, a chance for free, happy, good times. There was but one -other family of children near enough to share their plays, but the -fun was never dependent on numbers or novelty. If there were only two -members of the "Rustic Club" present, the birds and chipmunks and other -wood-creatures supplied every lack. Sometimes when they found themselves -longing to "pick up and move back among folks," they played that the -farm was a city. - -"'My mind to me a kingdom is,'" quoted Frank, optimistically; "and I -think if we all put our minds to it, we can manage to people this spot -on the map very sociably." - -Their city had a model government, and ideal regulations for community -health and enjoyment. It had also an enterprising newspaper of which -Frank was editor. - -Frank was the leader in all of the fun. She was the commanding general -in that famous "Indian fight" when, with Mary and Mother, she held the -fort against the attack of two dreadful, make-believe savages and a dog. -It was due to her strategy that the dog was brought over to their side -by an enticing sparerib and the day won. Frank, too, was the captain of -their good ship _Enterprise_. - -"If we do live inland, we don't have to _think inland_, Mary," she said. -"What's the use of sitting here in Wisconsin and sighing because we've -never seen the ocean. Let's take this hen-coop and go a-sailing. Who -knows what magic shores we'll touch beyond our Sea of Fancy!" - -A plank was put across the pointed top of the hen-coop, and the children -stood at opposite ends steering, slowly when the sea was calm and -more energetically when a storm was brewing. The hens clucked and the -chickens ran about in a panic, but the captain calmly charted the waters -and laid down rules of navigation. - -Perhaps, though, the best times of all were those that Frank spent in -her retreat at the top of a black oak tree, where she could sit weaving -stories of bright romance to her heart's content. On the tree she nailed -a sign with this painted warning: "The Eagle's Nest. Beware!" to secure -her against intruders. Here she wrote a wonderful novel of adventure, -some four hundred pages long. - -But this eagle found that the wings of her imagination could not make -her entirely free and happy. She had to return from the heights and the -high adventures of her favorite heroes to the dull routine of farm life. -She was not even allowed to ride, as Oliver was. - -"Well, if I can't be trusted to manage a horse, I'll see what can be -done with a cow and a saddle. I simply must ride _something_," Frank -declared, with a determined toss of her head. - -It took not only determination, but also grim endurance and a sense of -fun to help her through this novel experiment, which certainly had in it -more excitement than pleasure. However, when her father saw her ride by -on her long-horned steed, he said with a laugh: - -"You have fairly earned a better mount, Frank. And I suppose there is -really no more risk of your breaking your neck with a horse." - -That night Frank wrote in her journal: - -"Hurrah! rejoice! A new era has this moment been ushered in. Rode a -horse through the corn--the acme of my hopes realized." - -In the saddle, with the keen breath of a brisk morning in her face, she -felt almost free--almost a part of the larger life for which she longed. -"I think I'm fonder of anything out of my sphere than anything in it," -she said to her mother, whose understanding and sympathy never failed -her. - -Perhaps she loved especially to pore over a book of astronomy and try to -puzzle out the starry paths on the vast prairie of the heavens, because -it carried her up and away from her every-day world. Sometimes, however, -she was brought back to earth with a rude bump. - -"When I had to get dinner one Sunday, I fairly cried," she said. "To -come back to frying onions, when I've been among the rings of Saturn, is -terrible." - -She didn't at all know what it was for which she longed. Only she knew -that she didn't want to grow up--to twist up her free curls with spiky -hair-pins and to wear long skirts which seemed to make it plain that a -weary round of shut-in tasks was all her lot and that the happy days of -roaming woods and fields were over. - -Through all the girlhood days at "Forest Home" Frank longed for the -chance to go to a real school as much as she longed to be free. Oliver -went to the Janesville Academy, and later to Beloit College, but she -could get only fleeting glimpses of his more satisfying life through -the books he brought home and his talks of lectures and professors. She -remembered those far-off days at Oberlin as a golden time indeed. There -even a girl might have the chance to learn the things that would set her -mind and soul free. - -It was a great day for Frances and Mary Willard when Mr. Hodge, a -Yale man who was, like her father, exiled to a life in a new country, -decided to open a school for the children of the neighboring farms. On -the never-to-be-forgotten first day the girls got up long before light, -put their tin pails of dinner and their satchels of books with their -coats, hoods, and mufflers, and then stood watching the clock, whose -provokingly measured ticks seemed entirely indifferent to the eager -beating of their hearts. At last the hired man yoked the oxen to the -long "bob-sled," and Oliver drove them over a new white road to the new -school. The doors were not yet open. - -"I told you it was much too early," said Oliver. "The idea of being so -crazy over the opening of a little two-by-four school like this!" - -"It does look like a sort of big ground-nut," said Frank, with a laugh, -"but it's ours to crack. Besides, we have a Yale graduate to teach us, -and Beloit can't beat that!" - -"Let's go over to Mr. Hodge's for the key, and make the fire for him," -suggested Mary. - -There was an unusually long entry in Frank's diary that night: - - At last Professor Hodge appeared, in his long-tailed blue - coat with brass buttons, carrying an armful of school-books and - a dinner-bell in his hand. He stood on the steps and rang the - bell, long, loud, and merrily. My heart bounded, and I said - inside of it, so that nobody heard: "At last we are going to - school all by ourselves, Mary and I, and we are going to have - advantages like other folks, just as Mother said we should." O! - goody-goody-goody! I feel satisfied with the world, myself, and - the rest of mankind. - -This enthusiasm for school and study did not wane as the days went -by. "I want to know everything--_everything_," Frank would declare -vehemently. "It is only _knowing_ that can make one free." - -The time came when she was to go away to college. Wistfully she went -about saying good-by to all the pleasant haunts about "Forest Home." For -a long time she sat on her old perch in the "Eagle's nest," looking off -towards the river and the hills. - -"I think that as I know more, I live more," said Frank to her mother -that night. "I am alive to so many things now that I never thought of -six months ago; and everything is dearer--is more a part of myself." - -[Illustration: The Statue of Miss Willard in the Capitol of Washington] - -The North-West Female College, at Evanston, Illinois, was Frank's -alma mater. Here her love of learning made her a leader in all her -classes; and her originality, daring, and personal charm made her -a leader in the social life of the students. She was editor of the -college paper, and first fun-maker of a lively clan whose chief delight -it was to shock some of their meek classmates out of their unthinking -"goody-goodness." She was known, for instance, to have climbed into -the steeple and to have remained on her giddy perch during an entire -recitation period in the higher mathematics. - -In her days of teaching, Frank was the same alert, free, eager-minded, -fun-loving girl. First in a country school near Chicago, and afterward -in a seminary in Pittsburg, she was a successful teacher because she -never ceased to be a learner. - -"Frank, you have the _hungriest_ soul I ever saw in a human being. It -will never be satisfied!" said one of her friends. - -"I shall never be satisfied until I have entered every open door, and I -shall not go in alone," said Frank. - -In all of her pursuit of knowledge and culture she was intensely -social. She was always learning with others and for others. A bit from -her diary in 1866 reveals the spirit in which she worked: - - I read a good deal and learn ever so many new things every - day. I get so hungry to know things. I'll teach these girls - as well as possible.... Girls, girls, girls! Questions upon - questions. Dear me, it is no small undertaking to be elder - sister to the whole 180 of them. They treat me beautifully, and - I think I reciprocate. - -"Miss Willard seems to see us not as we are, but as we hope we are -becoming," one of her girls said. "And so we simply _have_ to do what -she believes we can do." - -No one was a stranger or indifferent to her. When her clear blue eyes -looked into the eyes of another, they always saw a friend. - -Through these early years of teaching Frances Willard was learning not -only from constant study and work with others, but also from sorrow. Her -sister Mary was taken from her. The story of what her gentle life and -loving comradeship meant to Frank is told in the first and best of Miss -Willard's books, "Nineteen Beautiful Years," which gives many delightful -glimpses of their childhood on the Wisconsin farm and the school-girl -years together. Soon after Mary's death "Forest Home" was sold and the -family separated. Frank wrote in her journal at this time: - - I am to lose sight of the old familiar landmarks; old things - are passing from me, whose love is for old things. I am pushing - out all by myself into the wide, wide sea. - -The writing of the story of Mary's life, together with essays and -articles of general interest for the papers and magazines, "took the -harm out of life for a while." In all her writing, as in her teaching -and later in her public speaking, her instinctive faith in people was -the secret of her power and influence as a leader. - -"For myself, I liked the world, believed it friendly, and could see no -reason why I might not confide in it," she said. - -When another sorrow, the loss of her father, threatened to darken her -life for a time, a friend came to the rescue and "opened a new door" for -her--the door of travel and study abroad. They lived for two and a half -years in Europe, and made a journey to Syria and Egypt. During much of -this time Miss Willard spent nine hours a day in study. She longed to -make her own the impressions of beauty and the haunting charm of the -past. - -"I must really enter into the life of each place," she said, "if it is -only for a few weeks or months. I want to feel that I have a right to -the landscape--that I'm not just an intruding tourist, caring only for -random sight-seeing." - -But Miss Willard brought back much more than a general culture gained -through a study of art, history, and literature, and a contact with -civilization. She gained, above all, a vital interest in conditions of -life, particularly those that concern women and their opportunities for -education, self-expression, and service. The Frances E. Willard that the -world knows, the organizer and leader in social reform, was born at this -time. On her thirtieth birthday she wrote: - - I can _do_ so much more when I go home. I shall have a hold - on life, and a fitness for it so much more assured. Perhaps--who - knows?--there may be noble, wide-reaching work for me in the - years ahead. - -It seemed to Miss Willard, when she returned to her own country, that -there was, after all, no land like America, and no spot anywhere so -truly satisfying as Rest Cottage in Evanston, where her mother awaited -her home-coming. A signal honor awaited her as well. She was called to -be president of her alma mater; and when the college became a part of -the North-Western University, she remained as Dean of Women. - -At this time many towns and cities of the Middle West were the scene of -a strange, pathetic, and heart-stirring movement known as the Temperance -Crusade. Gentle, home-loving women, white-haired mothers bent with toil -and grief, marched through the streets, singing hymns, praying, and -making direct appeals to keepers of saloons "for the sake of humanity -and their own souls' sake to quit their soul-destroying business." Their -very weakness was their strength. Their simple faith and the things they -had suffered through the drink evil pleaded for them. A great religious -revival was under way. - -In Chicago a band of women who were marching to the City Council to -ask that the law for Sunday closing of saloons be enforced were rudely -jostled and insulted by a mob. Miss Willard, who had before been -deeply stirred by the movement, was now thoroughly aroused. She made -several eloquent speeches in behalf of the cause, which was, she said, -"everybody's war." Her first instinct was to leave her college and give -her all to the work. Then it seemed to her that she ought to help just -where she was--that everybody ought. So, just where she was, the young -dean devoted her power of eloquent speech and her influence with people -to the cause. Day by day her interest in reform became more absorbing. -She realized that the early fervor and enthusiasm of the movement needed -to be strengthened by "sober second thought" and sound organization. - -"If I only had more time--if I were more free!" she exclaimed. - -Then the turn of events did indeed free her from her responsibility -to her college. A change of policy so altered the conditions of her -work that she decided to resign her charge and go east to study the -temperance movement. The time came when she had to make a final choice. -Two letters reached her on the same day: One asked her to assume the -principal-ship of an important school in New York at a large salary; -the other begged her to take charge of the Chicago branch of the -Woman's Christian Temperance Union at no salary at all. The girl who -had worshiped culture and lived in books decided to accept the second -call; and turning her back on a brilliant career and worldly success, -she threw in her lot with the most unpopular reform of the day. Frances -Willard, the distinguished teacher, writer, and lecturer, became a -crusader. - -"How can you think it right to give up your interest in literature and -art!" wailed one of her friends and admirers. - -"What greater art than to try to restore the image of God to faces that -have lost it?" replied Miss Willard. - -Those early days in Chicago were a brave, splendid time. Often walking -miles, because she had no money for car-fare, the inspired crusader -"followed the gleam" of her vision of what this woman's movement might -accomplish. Where others saw only an uncertain group of overwrought -fanatics, she saw an organized army of earnest workers possessed of -that "loftiest chivalry which comes as a sequel of their service to the -weakest." - -"I seemed to see the end from the beginning," she said; "and when one -has done that, nothing can discourage or daunt." - -Miss Willard often said that she was never happier than during this -time, when her spirit was entirely free, because she neither longed for -what the world could give nor feared what it might take away. She felt -very near to the poor people among whom she worked. - -"I am a better friend than you dream," she would say in her heart, while -her eyes spoke her sympathy and understanding. "I know more about you -than you think, for I am hungry, too." - -Of course, in time, the women discovered that their valued leader did -not have an independent income as they had imagined (since she had -never seemed to give a thought to ways and means for herself), and a -sufficient salary was provided for her. But always she spent her income -as she spent herself--to the utmost for the work. - -The secret of Miss Willard's success as a speaker lay in this entire -giving of herself. The intensity of life, the irrepressible humor, the -never-failing sympathy, the spirit that hungered after all that was -beautiful shone in her clear eyes, and, in the pure, vibrant tones of -her wonderful voice, went straight to the hearts of all who listened. -She did not enter into her life as a crusader halt and maimed; all of -the woman's varied interests and capacities were felt in the work of the -reformer. - -"She is a great orator because in her words the clear seeing of a -perfectly poised mind and the warm feeling of an intensely sympathetic -heart are wonderfully blended," said Henry Ward Beecher. - -Miss Willard was not only a gifted speaker, whose pure, flame-like -spirit enkindled faith and enthusiasm in others; she was also a rare -organizer and indefatigable worker. As president of the National Union, -she visited nearly every city and town in the United States, and, during -a dozen years, averaged one meeting a day. The hours spent on trains -were devoted to making plans and preparing addresses. On a trip up the -Hudson, while everybody was on deck enjoying the scenery, Miss Willard -remained in the cabin busy with pad and pencil. - -"I know myself too well to venture out," she said to a friend who -remonstrated with her. "There is work that must be done." - -Under Miss Willard's leadership the work became a power in the life and -progress of the nation and of humanity. There were those who objected -the very breadth and inclusiveness of her sympathies and interests, and -who protested against the "scatteration" policies, that would, they -said, lead to no definite goal. - -"I cannot see why any society should impose limitations on any -good work," said this broad-minded leader. "Everything is not in -the temperance movement, but the temperance movement should be in -everything." - -In 1898 the loyal crusader was called to lay down her arms and leave the -battle to others. She had given so unstintedly to every good work all -that she was, that at fifty-eight her powers of endurance were spent. "I -am so tired--so tired," she said again and again; and at the last, with -a serene smile, "How beautiful it is to be with God!" - -In the great hall of the Capitol, where each State has been permitted -to place statues of two of its most cherished leaders, Illinois has put -the marble figure of Frances E. Willard, the only woman in a company -of soldiers and statesmen. In presenting the statue to the nation, Mr. -Foss, who represented Miss Willard's own district in Illinois, closed -his address with these words: - - Frances E. Willard once said: "If I were asked what was the - true mission of the ideal woman, I would say, 'It is to make - the whole world home-like.'" Illinois, therefore, presents this - statue not only as a tribute to her whom it represents,--one of - the foremost women of America,--but as a tribute to woman and - her mighty influence upon our national life; to woman in the - home; to woman wherever she is toiling for the good of humanity; - to woman everywhere who has ever stood "For God, for home, for - native land." - - - - -JULIA WARD HOWE: THE SINGER OF A NATION'S SONG - - - - - We have told the story of our mother's life, possibly at too - great length; but she herself told it in eight words. - - "Tell me," Maud asked her once, "what is the ideal aim of - life?" - - She paused a moment, and replied, dwelling thoughtfully on - each word: - - "To learn, to teach, to serve, to enjoy!" - - _Life of Julia Ward Howe._ - - - - -THE SINGER OF A NATION'S SONG - - -Two little girls were rolling hoops along the street when they suddenly -caught them over their little bare arms and drew up close to the -railings of a house on the corner. - -"There is the wonderful coach and the little girl I told you about, -Eliza," whispered Marietta, pushing back the straw bonnet that shaded -her face from the sun and pointing with her stick. - -It was truly a magnificent yellow coach, pulled by two proud gray -horses. Even Cinderella's golden equipage could not have been more -splendid. Moreover, the little girl who sat perched upon the bright-blue -cushioned seat wore an elegant blue pelisse, that just matched the -heavenly color of the lining, and a yellow-satin bonnet that was clearly -inspired by the straw-colored outer shell of the chariot itself. The -fair chubby face under the satin halo was turned toward the children, -and a pair of clear gray eyes regarded them with eager interest. - -"She looked as if she wanted to speak!" said Marietta, breathlessly. -"Oh, Eliza, did you ever see any one so beautiful? Just like a doll or a -fairy-tale princess!" - -"Huh!" cried Eliza, the scornful; "didn't you see that she has red hair? -Who ever heard of a doll or a princess with red hair?" - -"Maybe a witch or a bad fairy turned her spun-gold locks red for spite," -suggested Marietta. "Anyway, I wouldn't mind red hair if I was in her -place--so rich and all. Wouldn't it be grand to ride in a fine coach and -have everything you want even before you stop to wish for it!" - -How astonished Marietta would have been if she could have known that the -little lady in the chariot was wishing that she were a little girl with -a hoop! For even when she was very small Julia Ward had other trials -besides the red hair. Nowadays, people realize that red-gold hair is a -true "crowning glory," but it wasn't the style to like it in 1825, at -the time this story begins. So little Julia's mother tried her best to -tone down the bright color with sobering washes and leaden combs. One -day, however, the child heard a visitor say, "Your little girl is very -beautiful; her hair is pretty, too, with that lovely complexion." - -Eagerly Julia climbed upon a chair and then on the high, old-fashioned -dressing-table, so that she could gaze in the mirror to her heart's -content. "Is that all?" she cried after a moment, and scrambled down, -greatly disappointed. - -Eliza and Marietta would have been truly amazed if they had known that -the little queen of the splendid coach had very little chance for the -good times that a child loves. In these days I really believe that -people would pity her and say, "Poor little rich girl!" She was brought -up with the greatest strictness. There were many lessons,--French, -Latin, music, and dancing--for she must have an education that would -fit her to shine in her high station. When she went out for an airing, -it was always in the big coach, "like a little lady." There was never a -chance for a hop-skip-and-jump play-hour. Her delicate cambric dresses -and kid slippers were only suited to sedate indoor ways, and even when -she was taken to the sea-shore for a holiday, her face was covered with -a thick green veil to keep her fair skin from all spot and blemish. -Dignity and Duty were the guardian geniuses of Julia Ward's childhood. - -Her father, Samuel Ward, was a rich New York banker, with a fine -American sense of _noblesse oblige_. He believed that a man's wealth and -influence spell strict accountability to his country and to God, and he -lived according to that belief. He believed that as a banker his most -vital concern was not to make himself richer and richer, but to manage -money matters in such a way as to serve his city and the nation as a -whole. In those times of financial stress which came to America in the -early part of the nineteenth century, his heroic efforts more than once -enabled his bank to weather a financial storm and uphold the credit of -the State. On one occasion his loyalty and unflagging zeal secured a -loan of five million dollars from the Bank of England in the nick of -time to avert disaster. - -"Julia," cried her brother, who had just come in from Wall Street, "men -have been going up and down the office stairs all day long, carrying -little wooden kegs of gold on their backs, marked 'Prime, Ward & King' -and filled with English gold!" - -Mr. Ward, however, did not see the triumphal procession of the kegs; -he was prostrated by a severe illness, due, it was said, to his too -exacting labors. Years afterward, Mr. Ward's daughter said that her best -inheritance from the old firm was the fact that her father had procured -this loan which saved the honor of the Empire State. - -"From the time I was a tiny child," said Julia Ward, "I had heard -stories of my ancestors--colonial governors and officers in the -Revolution, among whom were numbered General Nathanael Greene and -General Marion, the 'Swamp Fox' whose 'fortress was the good green -wood,' whose 'tent the cypress-tree.' When I thought of the brave and -honorable men and the fair and prudent wives and daughters of the line, -they seemed to pass before my unworthy self 'terrible as an army with -banners'--but there was, too, the trumpet-call of inspiration in the -thought that they were truly mine own people." - -If a sense of duty and the trumpet-call of her forebears urged little -Julia on to application in her early years, she soon learned to love -study for its own sake. When, at nine years of age, she began to attend -school, she listened to such purpose to the recitations of a class in -Italian that she presently handed to the astonished principal a letter -correctly written in that language, begging to be admitted to the study -of the tongue whose soft musical vowels had charmed her ear. She had -not only aptitude, but genuine fondness, for languages, and early tried -various experiments in the use of her own. When a child of ten she -began to write verse, and thereafter the expression of her thoughts and -feelings in poetic form was as natural as breathing. - -If you could have seen some of the solemn verses entitled, "All things -shall pass," and, "We return no more," written by the child not yet in -her teens, you might have said, "What an extraordinary little girl! Has -she always been ill, or has she never had a chance for a good time?" - -It was certainly true that life seemed a very serious thing to the -child. Her eyes were continually turned inward, for they had not -been taught to discover and enjoy the things of interest and delight -in the real world. New York was in that interesting stage of its -growth that followed upon the opening of the Erie Canal. Not yet a -city of foreigners,--the melting-pot of all nations,--the commercial -opportunities which better communication with the Great Lakes section -gave caused unparalleled prosperity. In 1835 the metropolis had a -population of 200,000; but Broadway was still in large part a street of -dignified brick residences with bright green blinds and brass knockers, -along which little girls could roll their hoops. Canal Street was a -popular boulevard, with a canal bordered by trees running through the -center and a driveway on either side; and the district neighboring on -the Battery and Castle Garden was still a place of wealth and fashion. - -It is to be doubted, however, if Julia Ward ever saw anything on her -drives to call her out of her day-dreaming self. Nor had she eyes for -the marvels of nature. The larkspurs and laburnums in the garden had no -language that she could understand. "I grew up," she said, "with the -city measure of the universe--my own house, somebody else's, the trees -in the park, a strip of blue sky overhead, and a great deal about nature -read from the best authors, most of which meant nothing at all. Years -later I learned to enjoy the drowsy murmur of green fields in midsummer, -the song of birds and the ways of shy wood-flowers, when my own children -opened the door into that 'mighty world of eye and ear.'" - -When Julia was sixteen, the return of her brother from Germany opened -a new door of existence to her. She had just left school and had begun -to study in real earnest. So serious was she in her devotion to her -self-imposed tasks that she sometimes bade a maid tie her in a chair -for a certain period. Thus, in bonds, with a mind set free from all -temptation to roam, she wrestled with the difficulties of German grammar -and came off victorious. But Brother Sam led her to an appreciation of -something besides the poetry of Schiller and Goethe. He had a keen and -wholesome enjoyment of the world of people, and in the end succeeded in -giving his young sister a taste of natural youthful gaiety. - -"Sir," said Samuel, Junior, to his father one evening, "you do not keep -in view the importance of the social tie." - -"The social what?" asked the amazed Puritan. - -"The social tie, sir." - -"I make small account of that," rejoined the father, coldly. - -"I will die in defense of it!" retorted the son, hotly. - -The young man found, however, that it was more agreeable to live for -the social tie than to die for it. And Julia, beginning to long for -something besides family evenings with books and music varied by -an occasional lecture or a visit to the house of an uncle, seemed -to herself "like a young damsel of olden times, shut up within an -enchanted castle." When she was nineteen she decided upon a declaration -of independence. If she could only muster the courage to meet her -affectionate jailer face to face, she thought that the bars of his -prejudice against fashionable society must surely fall. - -"I am going to give a party--_a party of my very own_," she announced to -her brothers; "and you must help me with the list of guests." - -Having obtained her father's permission to invite a few friends "to -spend the evening," she set about her preparations. This first party of -her young life should, she resolved, be correct in every detail. The -best caterer in New York was engaged, and a popular group of musicians. -She even introduced a splendid cut-glass chandelier to supplement the -conservative lighting of the drawing-room. "My first party must be a -brilliant success," she said, with a smile and a determined tilt of her -chin. - -A brilliant company was gathered to do the débutante honor on the -occasion of her audacious entrance into society. Mr. Ward showed no -surprise, however, when he descended the stairs and appeared upon -the festive scene. He greeted the guests courteously and watched the -dancing without apparent displeasure. Julia, herself, betrayed no -more excitement than seemed natural to the acknowledged belle of the -evening, but her heart was beating in a fashion not quite in tune with -the music of the fiddles. When the last guest had departed she went, -according to custom, to bid her father good night. And now came the -greatest surprise of all! Mr. Ward took the young girl's hand in his. -"My daughter," he said with tender gravity, "I was surprised to see -that your idea of 'a few friends' differed widely from mine. After this -you need not hesitate to consult me freely and frankly about what you -want to do." Then, kissing her good night with his usual affection, he -dismissed the subject forever. - -Julia's brief skirmish for independence proved not a rebellion, but a -revolution. Her brother's marriage to Miss Emily Astor introduced an era -of gaiety at this time; and when the young girl had once fairly taken -her place in society, there was no such thing as going back to the old -life. "Jolie Julie," as she was lovingly called in the home-circle, -became a reigning favorite. Even rumors of her amazing blue-stocking -tendencies could not spoil her success. It was whispered that she was -given to quoting German philosophy and French poetry. "I believe she -dreams in Italian," vowed one greatly awed damsel. - -However that might be, "Jolie Julie" certainly had a place in the dreams -of many. Her beauty and charm won all hearts. The bright hair was now -an acknowledged glory above the apple-blossom fairness of her youthful -bloom. But it was not alone the loveliness of the delicately molded -features and the tender brightness of the clear gray eyes that made -her a success. Notwithstanding the early neglect of "the social tie," -it was soon plain that she had the unfailing tact, the ready wit, and -native good humor that are the chief assets of the social leader who is -"born to the purple." Besides, Miss Ward's unusual acquirements could be -turned so as to masquerade, in their rosy linings, as accomplishments. -Her musical gifts were not reserved for hours of solitary musing, but -were freely devoted to the pleasure of her friends; and even the lofty -poetic Muse could on occasion indulge in a comic gambol to the great -delight of her intimates. - -Miss Ward soon tried her wings in other spheres beyond New York. She -found a ready welcome in Boston's select inner circle, where she made -the acquaintance of Longfellow, Emerson, Whittier, Holmes, and other -leading figures in the literary world. Charles Sumner, the brilliant -statesman and reformer, was an intimate friend of her brother, and -through him she met Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe, who not long after became -her husband. - -From both Longfellow and Sumner Miss Ward had heard glowing accounts of -their friend Howe, who was, they declared, the truest hero that America -and the nineteenth century had produced and the best of good comrades. -He had earned the name of "Chevalier" among his friends because he was -"a true Bayard, without fear and without reproach," and because he -had, moreover, been made a Knight of St. George by the King of Greece -for distinguished services during the Greek war for independence. For -six years he had fought with the patriots, both in the field and as -surgeon-in-chief. While in hiding with his wounded among the bare rocks -of the heights, he had sometimes nothing to eat but roasted wasps and -mountain snails. When the people were without food, he had returned -to America, related far and wide the story of Greece's struggles and -dire need, and brought back a shipload of food and clothing. Having -relieved the distress of the people, he had helped them to get in touch -with normal existence once more by putting them to work. A hospital was -built, and a mole to enclose the harbor at Ægina. Then, after seeing -the hitherto distracted peasants begin a new life as self-respecting -farmers, he had returned to America. - -[Illustration: Julia Ward Howe] - -At this time he was doing pioneer work in the education of the blind. As -director of the Perkins Institution, in Boston, he was not only laboring -to make more efficient this first school for the blind in America, -but he was also going about through the country with his pupils to -show something of what might be done in the way of practical training, -in order to induce the legislatures of the several States to provide -similar institutions for those deprived of sight. In particular, Dr. -Howe's success in teaching Laura Bridgman, a blind deaf-mute, was the -marvel of the civilized world. - -One day, when Longfellow and Sumner were calling upon Miss Ward, they -suggested driving over to the Perkins Institution. When they arrived -the hero of the hour--and the place--was absent. Before they left, -however, Mr. Sumner, who had been looking out of the window, suddenly -exclaimed, "There is Howe now on his black horse!" Miss Ward looked with -considerable eagerness in her curiosity, and saw, as she afterward said, -"a noble rider on a noble steed." - -In this way the Chevalier rode into the life of the fair lady. As the -knight of the ballad swung the maiden of his choice to the croup of his -charger and galloped off with her in the face of her helpless kinsmen, -so this serious philanthropist and reformer carried off the lovely -society favorite, in spite of the fact that he cared not at all for her -gay, care-free world, and was, moreover, twenty years her senior. The -following portion of a letter which Miss Ward wrote to her brother Sam -shows how completely she was won: - - The Chevalier says truly--I am the captive of his bow and - spear. His true devotion has won me from the world and from - myself. The past is already fading from my sight; already I - begin to live with him in the future, which shall be as calmly - bright as true love can make it. I am perfectly satisfied to - sacrifice to one so noble and earnest the day-dreams of my youth. - -Dr. Howe and his bride went to Europe on their wedding-trip--on the same -steamer with Horace Mann and his newly made wife, Mary Peabody, the -sister of Mrs. Nathaniel Hawthorne. The teacher of Laura Bridgman was -well known in England through Dickens's "American Notes," and people -were anxious to do him honor. Dickens not only invited the interesting -Americans to dinner, but he offered to pilot Dr. Howe and his brother -reformer, Horace Mann, about darkest London and show them the haunts of -misery and crime which no one knew better than the author of "Oliver -Twist," "Little Dorrit," and "Bleak House." The following note, written -in Dickens's characteristic hand, shows the zest with which the great -novelist undertook these expeditions and his boyish love of fun: - - My dear Howe,--Drive to-night to St. Giles's Church. Be - there at half past 11--and wait. Somebody will put his head - into the coach after a Venetian and mysterious fashion, and - breathe your name. Follow that man. Trust him to the death. - - So no more at present from - - Ninth June, 1843. THE MASK. - -It had been the plan to go from England to Berlin; but Dr. Howe, who -had once incurred the displeasure of the king of Prussia by giving aid -to certain Polish refugees, and had, indeed, been held for five weeks -in a German prison, was now excluded from the country as a "dangerous -person." This greatly amused Horace Mann, who remarked, "When we -consider that His Majesty has 200,000 men constantly under arms, and can -in need increase the number to two million, we begin to appreciate the -estimation in which he holds your single self." When, some years later, -the king sent Dr. Howe a medal in recognition of his work for the blind, -the Chevalier declared laughingly: "It is worth just what I was obliged -to pay for board and lodging while in the Berlin prison. His Majesty is -magnanimous!" - -After traveling through Switzerland, Italy, and France, the Howes -stopped for a second visit to England, where they were entertained for -a time by the parents of Florence Nightingale. A warm attachment sprang -up between them and the earnest young woman of twenty-four. - -"I want to ask your advice, Dr. Howe," said Miss Nightingale, one day. -"Would it be unsuitable for a young Englishwoman to devote herself to -works of charity in hospitals and wherever needed, just as the Catholic -sisters do?" - -The doctor replied gravely, "My dear Miss Florence, it would be unusual, -and in England whatever is unusual is apt to be thought unsuitable; -but I say to you, go forward, if you have a vocation for that way of -life; act up to your inspiration, and you will find that there is never -anything unbecoming or unladylike in doing your duty for the good of -others." - -After the Howes had returned to Boston and settled down to the -work-a-day order in the Institution the young wife's loyalty to the -new life was often sorely tried. She loved the sunshine of the bright, -gracious world of leisurely, happy people, and she felt herself chilled -in this bleak gray place of sober duties. If only she could warm -herself at the fire of friendship oftener! But all the pleasant people -lived in pleasant places too far from the South Boston institution for -the give and take of easy intercourse. Dr. Howe, moreover, was much of -the time so absorbed in the causes of which he was champion-in-chief -that few hours were saved for quiet fireside enjoyment. - -"I hardly know what I should have done in those days," said Mrs. Howe, -"without the companionship of my babies and Miss Catherine Beecher's -cook-book." - -The Chevalier loved to invite for a weekly dinner his especial group -of intimates--five choice spirits, among whom Longfellow and Sumner -were numbered, who styled themselves "The Five of Clubs." These dinners -brought many new problems to the young hostess, who now wished that some -portion of her girlhood days lavished on Italian and music had been -devoted to the more intimate side of menus. However, she was before long -able to take pride in her puddings without renouncing poetry; and to -keep an eye on the economy of the kitchen and her sense of humor at the -same time, as the following extract from a breezy letter to her sister -Louisa can testify: - - Our house has been enlivened of late by two delightful - visits. The first was from the soap-fat merchant, who gave me - thirty-four pounds of good soap for my grease. I was quite - beside myself with joy, capered about in the most enthusiastic - manner, and was going to hug in turn the soap, the grease, - and the man, when I reflected that it would not sound well in - history. This morning came the rag man, who takes rags and gives - nice tin vessels in exchange.... Both of these were clever - transactions. Oh, if you had seen me stand by the soap-fat man, - and scrutinize his weights and measures, telling him again and - again that it was beautiful grease, and that he must allow me a - good price for it--truly, I am a mother in Israel. - -The hours spent with her wee daughters were happy times. Sometimes -she improvised jingles to amuse Baby Flossy (Florence, after Florence -Nightingale) and tease the absorbed father-reformer at the same time: - - Rero, rero, riddlety rad, - This morning my baby caught sight of her dad, - Quoth she, "Oh, Daddy, where have you been?" - "With Mann and Sumner a-putting down sin!" - -Sometimes she sang little bedtime rhymes about lambs and baby birds, -sheep and sleep; and, when the small auditors demanded that their -particular pets have a part in the song, readily added: - - The little donkey in the stable - Sleeps as sound as he is able; - All things now their rest pursue, - You are sleepy too. - -As soon as Dr. Howe could find a suitable place near the Institution he -moved his little family into a home of their own. On the bright summer -day when Mrs. Howe drove under the bower formed by the fine old trees -that guarded the house, she exclaimed, "Oh, this is green peace!" And -"Green Peace" their home was called from that day. The children enjoyed -here healthful outdoor times and happy indoor frolics--plays given at -their dolls' theater, when father and mother worked the puppets to a -dialogue of squeaks and grunts; and really-truly plays, such as "The -Three Bears" (when Father distinguished himself as the Great Big Huge -Bear), "The Rose and the Ring," and "Bluebeard." - -In the midst of the joys and cares of such a rich home-life, how was it -that the busy mother still found time for study and writing? For she -was always a student, keeping her mind in training as an athlete keeps -his muscles; and the need of finding expression in words for her inner -life became more insistent as time went on. One of her daughters once -said: - - "It was a matter of course to us children that 'Papa and - Mamma' should play with us, sing to us, tell us stories, bathe - our bumps, and accompany us to the dentist; these were the - things that papas and mammas did! Looking back now with some - realization of all the other things they did, we wonder how they - managed it. For one thing, both were rapid workers; for another, - both had the power of leading and inspiring others to work; for - a third, so far as we can see, neither wasted a moment; for a - fourth, neither ever reached a point where there was not some - other task ahead, to be begun as soon as might be." - -Life with the beloved reformer was often far from easy, but there were -never any regrets for the old care-free days. "I shipped as captain's -mate for the voyage!" she said on one occasion, with a merry laugh that -was like a heartening cheer; and then she added seriously, "I cannot -imagine a more useful motto for married life." Always she realized that -she owed all that was deepest and most steadfast in herself to this -union. "But for the Chevalier, I should have been merely a woman of the -world and a literary dabbler!" she said. - -A volume of verse, "Passion Flowers," was praised by Longfellow and -Whittier and won a wide popularity. A later collection, "Words for the -Hour," was, on the whole, better, but not so much read. Still, the woman -felt that she had not yet really found herself in her work. She longed -to give something that was vital--something that would fill a need and -make a difference to people in the real world of action. - -The days of the Civil War made every earnest spirit long to be of some -service to the nation and to humanity. Dr. Howe and his friend were -among the leaders of the Abolitionists at the time when they were a -despised "party of cranks and martyrs." It was small wonder that, -when the struggle came, Mrs. Howe's soul was fired with the desire to -help. There seemed nothing that she could do but scrape lint for the -hospitals--which any other woman could do equally well. If only her -poetic gift were not such a slender reed--if she could but command an -instrument of trumpet strength to voice the spirit of the hour! - -In this mood she had gone to Washington to see a review of the troops. -On returning, while her carriage was delayed by the marching regiments, -her companions tried to relieve the tensity and tedium of the wait by -singing war songs, among others: - - "John Brown's body lies a-moldering in the grave; - His soul is marching on!" - -The passing soldiers caught at this with a "Good for you!" and joined in -the chorus. "Mrs. Howe," said her minister, James Freeman Clarke, who -was one of the company, "why do you not write some really worthy words -for that stirring tune?" - -"I have often wished to do so," she replied. - -Let us tell the story of the writing of the "nation's song" as her -daughters have told it in the biography of their mother: - - Waking in the gray of the next morning, as she lay waiting - for the dawn the word came to her. - - "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord--" - - She lay perfectly still. Line by line, stanza by stanza, - the words came sweeping on with the rhythm of marching feet, - pauseless, resistless. She saw the long lines swinging into - place before her eyes, heard the voice of the nation speaking - through her lips. She waited till the voice was silent, till the - last line was ended; then sprang from bed, and, groping for pen - and paper, scrawled in the gray twilight the "Battle Hymn of the - Republic." - -And so the "nation's song" was born. How did it come to pass that the -people knew it as their own? When it appeared in the "Atlantic Monthly" -it called forth little comment; the days gave small chance for the -poetry of words. But some poets in the real world of deeds had seen -it--the people who were fighting on the nation's battle-fields. And -again and again it was sung and chanted as a prayer before battle and a -trumpet-call to action. A certain fighting chaplain, who had committed -it to memory, sang it one memorable night in Libby Prison, when the -joyful tidings of the victory of Gettysburg had penetrated even those -gloomy walls. "Like a flame the word flashed through the prison. Men -leaped to their feet, shouted, embraced one another in a frenzy of joy -and triumph; and Chaplain McCabe, standing in the middle of the room, -lifted up his great voice and sang aloud: - - "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!" - -Every voice took up the chorus, and Libby Prison rang with the shout of -'Glory, glory, hallelujah!'" - -Later, when Chaplain McCabe related to a great audience in Washington -the story of that night and ended by singing the "Battle Hymn of the -Republic," as only one who has lived it can sing it, the voice of -Abraham Lincoln was heard above the wild applause, calling, as the tears -rolled down his cheeks, "Sing it again!" - -It has been said that what a person does in some great moment of his -life--in a moment of fiery trial or of high exaltation--is the result of -all the thoughts and deeds of all the slow-changing days. So the habits -of a lifetime cry out at last. Is it not true that this "nation's song," -which seemed to write itself in a wonderful moment of inspiration, -was really the expression of years of brave, faithful living? All the -earnestness of the child, all the dreams and warm friendliness of the -girl, all the tenderness and loyal devotion of the wife and mother, -speak in those words. Nor is it the voice of her life alone. The -trumpet-call of her forebears was in those stirring lines. Only a tried -and true American, whose people had fought and suffered for freedom's -sake, could have written that nation's song. - -Julia Ward Howe's long life of ninety-one years was throughout one of -service and inspiration. Many people were better and happier because -of her life. It was a great moment when, on the occasion of any public -gathering, the word went around that Mrs. Howe was present. With one -accord those assembled would rise to their feet, and hall or theater -would ring with the inspiring lines of the "Battle Hymn of the Republic." - -The man who said, "I care not who shall make the laws of the nation, if -I may be permitted to make its songs," spoke wisely. A true song comes -from the heart and goes to the heart. A nation's song is the voice of -the heart and life of a whole people. In it the hearts of many beat -together as one. - - - - -A CHAMPION OF "THE CAUSE": - -ANNA HOWARD SHAW - - - - - Nothing bigger can come to a human being than to love a - great Cause more than life itself, and to have the privilege - throughout life of working for that Cause. - - ANNA HOWARD SHAW. - - - - -A CHAMPION OF "THE CAUSE" - - -A young girl was standing on a stump in the woods, waving her arms and -talking very earnestly. There was no one there to listen except a robin -a-tilt on a branch where the afternoon sun could turn his rusty brown -breast to red, and a chattering, inquisitive bluejay. All the other -little wood folk were in hiding. That strange creature was in the woods -but not of them. She belonged to the world of people. - -The girl knew that she belonged to a different world. She was not trying -to play that she was a little American Saint Francis preaching to the -birds in the forests of northern Michigan. She was looking past the -great trees and all the busy life that lurked there to the far-away -haunts of men. Somehow she felt that she would have something to say to -them some day. - -She raised her clasped hands high above her head and lifted her face -to the patch of sky that gleamed deep blue between the golden-green -branches of the trees. "There is much that I can say," she declared -fervently. "I am only a girl, but I feel in my heart that some day -people will listen to me." - -A gray squirrel scampered noisily across the dry brown leaves and -frisked up a tree trunk, where he clung for a moment regarding the girl -on the stump with shining, curious eyes. - -"Saucy nutcracker!" cried the child, tossing an acorn at the alert -little creature. "Do you too think it strange for a girl to want to do -things? What would you say if I should tell you that a young girl once -led a great army to victory?--a poor girl who had to work hard all day -just as I do? She did not know how to read or write, but she knew how -to answer all the puzzling questions that the learned and powerful men -of the day (who tried with all their might to trip her up) could think -to ask. They called her a witch then. 'Of a truth this girl Joan must -be possessed of an evil spirit,' they said. 'Who ever heard of a maid -speaking as she speaks?' Years afterward they called her a saint. She -was the leader of her people even though she was a girl--Now I don't -mean, fellow birds and squirrels, that I expect to be another Joan of -Arc, but I know that I shall be something!" - -Anna Shaw's bright dark eyes glowed with intense feeling. Like the maid -of whom she had been reading, she had her vision--a vision of a large, -happy life waiting for her--little, untaught backwoods girl though -she was. Her book led the way down a charmed path into the world of -dreams. For the time she forgot the drudgery of the days--the plowing -and planting and hoeing about the stumps of their little clearing, the -cutting of wood, the carrying of water. She walked back to the cabin -that was home, with her head held high and her lips parted in a smile. -But all at once she was brought back to real things with a rude bump. - -"What have you been doing, Anna?" demanded her father, who stood waiting -for her in the doorway. - -"Reading, sir," the girl faltered. - -"So you have been _idling_ away precious hours at a time your mother -has needed your help?" the stern voice went on accusingly. "What do you -suppose the future will bring to one who has not proved 'faithful in -little'?" - -The girl looked at her father without speaking. She knew that her share -in the work of the household was not "little." Her young hands hardened -from rough toil twitched nervously; the injustice cut her to the quick. -Couldn't her father imagine what holding down that claim in the woods -had meant for the little family during the eighteen months that he -and the two older boys had remained behind in the East? In his joy at -securing the grant of land from the Government, he already pictured the -well-conditioned farm that would one day be his and his children's. "The -acorn was not an acorn, but a forest of young oaks." - -In a flash she saw as if it were yesterday the afternoon when their -pathetic little caravan had at last reached the home that awaited -them. She saw the frail, tired mother give one glance at the rude log -hut in the stump-filled clearing, and then sink in a despairing heap -on the dirt floor. It was but the hollow shell of a cabin--walls and -roof, with square holes for door and windows gaping forlornly at the -home-seekers. She heard the wolves and wildcats as she had on that first -night when they had huddled together--helpless creatures from another -world--not knowing if their watch-fires would keep the hungry beasts -at bay. She saw parties of Indians stalk by in war-paint and feathers. -She saw herself, a child of twelve, trudging wearily to the distant -creek for water until the time when, with her brother's help, she dug a -well. There was, too, the work of laying a floor and putting in doors -and windows. Like Robinson Crusoe, she had served a turn at every -trade; to-day that of carpenter or builder, to-morrow that of farmer, -fisherman, or woodcutter. - -As these pictures flashed before the eye of memory she looked at her -father quietly, without a word of defense or self-pity. All she said -was, "Father, some day I am going to college." - -The little smile that curled his lips as he looked his astonishment -drove her to another boast. The dreams of the free calm woods and the -heroic Maid of Orleans had faded away. Somehow she longed to put forth -her claim in a way to impress any one, even a man who felt that a girl -ought not to want anything but drudging. "And before I die I shall be -worth $10,000," she prophesied boldly. - -However, the months that succeeded gave no sign of any change of -fortune. A sudden storm turned a day of toil now and then into a -red-letter day when one had chance to read the books that father had -brought with him into the wilderness. Sometimes one could stretch at -ease on the floor and dreamily scan the pages of the "Weekly" that -papered the walls. There was always abundant opportunity in the busy -hours that followed to reflect on what one had read--to compare, to -contrast, and to apply, and so to annex for good and all the ideas that -the books had to give. - -It was clear, too, that there were many interesting things to be seen -and enjoyed even in the most humdrum work-a-day round, if one were able -to read real life as well as print. Could anything be more delightful -than the way father would drop his hoe and run into the house to work -out a problem concerning the yield of a certain number of kernels -of corn? The days would go by while he calculated and speculated -energetically over this problem and that, leaving such trivial tasks as -planting and plowing to others. Then there were the weekend visitors. -Often as many as ten or a dozen of the neighboring settlers--big -lumbermen and farmers--would come on Saturday, to spend the night and -Sunday listening to her father read. When it was delicately hinted that -this was a tax on the family store of tallow dips, each man dutifully -brought a candle to light the way to learning. It never seemed to occur, -either to them or to the impractical father, who liked nothing better -than reading and expounding, that the entertainment of so many guests -was a severe tax on the strength and patience of the working members of -the household. - -But life was not all labor. There was now and then a wonderful ball at -Big Rapids, then a booming lumber town. When it was impossible to get -any sort of a team to make the journey, they went down the river on a -raft, taking their party dresses in trunks. As balls, like other good -things in pioneer experience, were all too rare, it was the custom to -make the most of each occasion by changing one's costume at midnight, -and thus starting off with fresh enthusiasm to dance the "money musk" -and the "Virginia reel" in the small hours. - -"Our costumes in those days had at least the spice of originality," said -Miss Shaw with a reminiscent smile. "I well remember a certain gay ball -gown of my own, made of bedroom chintz; and the home-tailored trousers -of my gallant swain, whose economical mother had employed flour sacks, -on which the local firm-name and the guarantee, '96 pounds,' appeared -indelibly imprinted. A blue flannel shirt and a festive yellow sash -completed his interesting outfit." - -When Anna Shaw was fifteen she began to teach in the little log -schoolhouse of the settlement for two dollars a week and "board round." -The day's work often meant a walk of from three to six miles, a trip to -the woods for fuel, the making of the wood fire and the partial drying -of rain-soaked clothes, before instruction began. Then imagine the child -of fifteen teaching fifteen children of assorted ages and dispositions -out of fifteen different "reading books," most of which she had herself -supplied. "I remember that one little girl read from a hymn-book, while -another had an almanac," she said. - -As there was no money for such luxuries as education until the dog-tax -had been collected, the young teacher received one bright spring day -the dazzling sum of twenty-six dollars for the entire term of thirteen -weeks. In the spending of this wealth, spring and youth carried the day. -Joan of Arc and the preaching in the woods were for the time forgotten; -she longed above everything else to have some of the pretty things that -all girls love. Making a pilgrimage to a real shop, she bought her first -real party dress--a splendid creation of rich magenta color, elaborately -decorated with black braid. - -Perhaps she regretted all too soon the rashness of this expenditure, for -the next year brought hard times. War had been declared, and Lincoln's -call for troops had taken all the able-bodied men of the community. -"When news came that Fort Sumter had been fired on," said Miss Shaw, -"our men were threshing. I remember seeing a man ride up on horseback, -shouting out Lincoln's demand for troops and explaining that a regiment -was being formed at Big Rapids. Before he had finished speaking the men -on the machine had leaped to the ground and rushed off to enlist, my -brother Jack, who had recently joined us, among them." - -Anna Shaw was now the chief support of the little home in the -wilderness, and the pitiful sum earned by teaching had to be eked out -by boarding the workers from the lumber-camps and taking in sewing, -in order to pay the taxes and meet the bare necessities of life. With -calico selling for fifty cents a yard, coffee for a dollar a pound, -and everything else in proportion, one cannot but marvel how the women -and children managed to exist. They struggled along, with hearts heavy -with anxiety for loved ones on the battle-fields, to do as best they -could the work of the men--gathering in the crops, grinding the corn, -and caring for the cattle--in addition to the homekeeping tasks of -the daily round. It takes, perhaps, more courage and endurance to be a -faithful member of the home army than it does to march into battle with -bands playing and colors flying. - -When, at the end of the war, the return of the father and brothers -freed her from the responsibility for the upkeep of the home, Anna Shaw -determined upon a bold step. Realizing that years must pass before she -could save enough from her earnings as country school-teacher to go -to college, she went to live with a married sister in Big Rapids and -entered as a pupil in the high school there. The preceptress, Miss Lucy -Foot, who was a college graduate and a woman of unusual strength of -character, took a lively interest in the new student and encouraged her -ambition to preach by putting her in the classes in public speaking and -debating. - -"I vividly remember my first recitation in public," said Miss Shaw. "I -was so overcome by the impressiveness of the audience and the occasion, -and so appalled at my own boldness in standing there, that I sank in -a faint on the platform. Sympathetic classmates carried me out and -revived me, after which they naturally assumed that the entertainment I -furnished was over for the evening. I, however, felt that if I let that -failure stand against me I could never afterward speak in public; and -within ten minutes, notwithstanding the protests of my friends, I was -back in the hall and beginning my recitation a second time. The audience -gave me its eager attention. Possibly it hoped to see me topple off the -platform again, but nothing of the sort occurred. I went through the -recitation with self-possession and received some friendly applause at -the end." - -After this maiden speech, the young girl appeared frequently in public, -now in school debates, now in amateur theatricals. It was as if the -Fates had her case particularly in hand at this time, for everything -seemed to further the secret longing that had possessed her ever since -the days when she had preached to the trees in the forest. - -There was a growing sentiment in favor of licensing women to preach in -the Methodist Church, and Dr. Peck, the presiding elder of the Big -Rapids district, who was chief among the advocates of the movement, was -anxious to present the first woman candidate for the ministry. Meeting -the alert, ardent young student at the home of her teacher, Dr. Peck -took pains to draw her into conversation. Soon she was talking freely, -with eager animation, and her questioner was listening with interest, -nodding approval now and then. Then an amazing thing happened. Dr. Peck -looked at her smilingly and asked in an off-hand manner: - -"Would you like to preach the quarterly sermon at Ashton?" - -The young woman gasped; she stared at the good man in astonishment. Then -she realized that he was speaking in entire seriousness. - -"Why," she stammered, "I can't preach a sermon!" - -"Have you ever tried?" he asked. - -"Never!" she began, and then as the picture of her childish self -standing on the stump in the sunlit woods flashed upon her, "Never to -human beings!" she amended. - -Dr. Peck was smiling again. "Well," he said, "the door is open. Enter -or not, as you wish." - -After much serious counsel with Miss Foot and with her own soul, Anna -Shaw determined to go in at the open door. For six weeks the preparation -of the first sermon engaged most of her waking thoughts, and even in her -dreams the text she had chosen sounded in her ears. It was, moreover, a -time of no little anguish of spirit because of the consternation with -which her family regarded her unusual "call." One might as well be -guilty of crime, it appeared, as to be so forward and unwomanly. Finding -it impossible to bring her to reason in any other way, they tried a -bribe. After a solemn gathering of the clans, it was agreed that if she -would give up this insane ambition to preach, they would send her to -college--to Ann Arbor--and defray all her expenses. The thought of Ann -Arbor was a sore temptation; but she realized that she could no more be -faithless to the vision that had been with her from childhood than she -could cease being herself. - -The momentous first sermon was the forerunner of many others in -different places, and when at the conference the members were asked to -vote whether she should be licensed as a local preacher, the majority of -the ministers raised both hands! - -She was, however, still regarded as the black sheep of the family, and -it was with a heavy spirit that she plodded on day by day with her -studies. Surely nobody was ever more in need of a friendly word than -was Anna Shaw at the time that Mary A. Livermore came to lecture in Big -Rapids. At the close of the meeting she was among those gathered in a -circle about the distinguished speaker, when some one pointed her out, -remarking that "there was a young person who wanted to preach in spite -of the opposition and entreaties of all her friends." - -Mrs. Livermore looked into Anna Shaw's glowing eyes with sudden -interest; then she put her arm about her and said quietly, "My dear, if -you want to preach, go on and preach. No matter what people say, don't -let them stop you!" - -Before Miss Shaw could choke back her emotion sufficiently to reply, -one of her good friends exclaimed: "Oh, Mrs. Livermore, don't say that -to her! We're all trying to stop her. Her people are wretched over the -whole thing. And don't you see how ill she is? She has one foot in the -grave and the other almost there!" - -"Yes," said Mrs. Livermore, looking thoughtfully at the white face that -was turned appealingly toward her, "I see she has. But it is better that -she should die doing the thing she wants to do than that she should die -because she can't do it." - -"So they think I'm going to die!" cried Miss Shaw. "Well, I'm not! I'm -going to live and preach!" - -[Illustration: _Photo by Brown Bros._ - -Anna Howard Shaw] - -With renewed zeal and courage she turned again to her books, and, in the -autumn of 1873, entered Albion College. "With only eighteen dollars as -my entire capital," she said, "and not the least idea how I might add to -it, I was approaching the campus when I picked up a copper cent bearing -the date of my birth, 1848. It seemed to me a good omen, and I was sure -of it when within the week I found two more pennies exactly like it. -Though I have more than once been tempted to spend those pennies, I have -them still--to my great comfort!" - -At college she was distinguished for her independence of thought and -for her alert, vigorous mind. When, on being invited to join the -literary society that boasted both men and women members instead of -the exclusively feminine group, she was assured that "women need to be -associated with men because they don't know how to manage meetings," she -replied with spirit: - -"If they don't, it's high time they learned. I shall join the women, and -we'll master the art." - -Her gift as a public speaker not only earned her a place of prominence -in her class through her able debates and orations, but it also -helped pay her way through college, since she received now and then -five dollars for a temperance talk in one of the near-by country -schoolhouses. But such sums came at uncertain intervals, and her board -bills came due with discouraging regularity. A gift of ninety-two -dollars, sent at Christmas by her friends in Big Rapids, alone made it -possible for her to get through the term. - -Though the second year at Albion was comparatively smooth sailing -because her reputation had brought enough "calls" to preach and lecture -to defray her modest expenses, she decided to go to Boston University -for her theological course. She was able to make her way in the West; -why was it not possible to do the same in the place where she could get -the needed equipment for her life work? - -But she soon found what it means to be alone and penniless in a large -city. Opportunities were few and hungry students were many. For the -first time in her life she was tempted to give up and own herself -beaten, when a sudden rift came in the clouds of discouragement. She -was invited to assist in holding a "revival week" in one of the Boston -churches. - -It was soon evident that one could live on milk and crackers if only -hope were added. The week's campaign was a great success. If she herself -had not been able to feel the fervor and enthusiasm that the meetings -had aroused, she could have no doubt when the minister assured her that -her help had proved invaluable--that he greatly wished he were able -to give her the fifty dollars, which at the very lowest estimate she -deserved--but alas! he had nothing to offer but his heartfelt thanks! - -When Miss Shaw passed out of the church her heart was indeed heavy. She -had failed! "I was friendless, penniless, and starving," she said, "but -it was not of these conditions that I thought then. The one overwhelming -fact was that I had been weighed and found wanting. I was not worthy." - -All at once she felt a touch on her arm. An old woman who had evidently -been waiting for her to come out put a five-dollar bill in her hand. "I -am a poor woman, Miss Shaw," she said, "but I have all I need, and I -want to make you a little present, for I know how hard life must be for -you young students. I'm the happiest woman in the world to-night, and I -owe my happiness to you. You have converted my grandson, who is all I -have left, and he is going to lead a different life." - -"This is the biggest gift I have ever had," cried Miss Shaw. "This -little bill is big enough to carry my future on its back!" - -This was indeed the turning point. Here was enough for food and shoes, -but it was much more than that. It was a sign that she had her place in -the great world. There was need of what she could do, and there could be -no more doubt that _her_ needs would be met. Even though she could not -see the path ahead she would never lose heart again. - -The succeeding months brought not only the means to live but also the -spirit to make the most of each day's living. "I graduated in a new -black silk gown," she said, "with five dollars in my pocket, which I -kept there during the graduation exercises. I felt special satisfaction -in the possession of that money, for, notwithstanding the handicap of -being a woman, I was said to be the only member of my class who had -worked during the entire course, graduated free from debt, and had a new -outfit as well as a few dollars in cash." - -Miss Shaw's influence as a preacher may be illustrated by a single -anecdote. In the months following her graduation she went on a trip to -Europe, a friend having left her a bequest for that express purpose. -While in Genoa she was asked to preach to the sailors in a gospel-ship -in the harbor; but when she appeared it was evident that the missionary -in charge had not understood that the minister he had invited was a -woman. He was unhappy and apologetic in his introduction, and the -weather-beaten tars, in their turn, looked both resentful and mocking. -It was certainly a trying moment when Miss Shaw began to speak. She had -never in her life felt more forlorn or more homesick, when all at once -the thought flashed through her that back of those unfriendly faces that -confronted her there were lonely souls just as hungry for home as she -was. Impulsively stepping down from the pulpit so that she stood on a -level with her hearers, she said: - -"My friends, I hope you will forget everything that Dr. Blank has just -said. It is true that I am a minister and that I came here to preach. -But now I do not intend to preach--only to have a friendly talk, on a -text that is not in the Bible. I am very far from home, and I feel -as homesick as some of you men look. So my text is, 'Blessed are the -homesick, for they shall go home.'" - -Then out of the knowledge of sea-faring people which she had gained -during summer vacations when she had "filled in" for the absent pastor -of a little church on Cape Cod, she talked in a way that went straight -to the hearts of the rough men gathered there. When she saw that the -unpleasant grin had vanished from the face of the hardest old pirate -of them all, she said: "When I came here I intended to preach a sermon -on 'The Heavenly Vision.' Now I want to give you a glimpse of that in -addition to the vision we have had of home." - -After her return to America, Miss Shaw was called as pastor to a church -at East Dennis, Cape Cod, and a few months later she was asked to hold -services at another church about three miles distant. These two charges -she held for seven happy years, rich in the opportunity for real service. - -Feeling the need of knowing how to minister to the bodily needs of -those she labored among, Miss Shaw took a course at the Boston Medical -School, going to the city for a part of each week and graduating with -the degree of M.D. in 1885. When some one who knew about her untiring -work as leader and helper of the people to whom she preached, asked -her how it had been possible for her to endure so great a strain, she -replied cheerfully, "Congenial work, no matter how much there is of it, -has never yet killed any one." - -During the time of her medical studies when Miss Shaw was serving as -volunteer doctor and nurse to the poor in the Boston slums, she became -interested in the cause of woman suffrage--"The Cause" it was to her -always in the years that succeeded. A new day had come with new needs. -She saw that everywhere there were changed conditions and grave problems -brought about by the entrance of women into the world of wage-earners; -and she became convinced that only through an understanding and sharing -of the responsibilities of citizenship by both men and women could the -best interests of each community be served. She, therefore, gave up her -church work on Cape Cod to become a lecturer in a larger field. For a -while she devoted part of her time to the temperance crusade until that -great leader of the woman's movement, Susan B. Anthony--"Aunt Susan," as -she was affectionately called--persuaded her to give all her strength to -the Cause. - -Without an iron constitution and steady nerves, as well as an unfailing -sense of humor, she could never have met the hardships and strange -chances that were her portion in the years that succeeded. In order -to meet the appointments of her lecture tours she was constantly -traveling, often under the most untoward circumstances--now finding -herself snow-bound in a small prairie town; now compelled to cross a -swollen river on an uncertain trestle; now stricken with an attack of -ptomaine poisoning while "on the road," with no one within call except a -switchman in his signal-tower. - -Perhaps more appalling than any or all of these tests was the occasion -when she arrived in a town to find that the lecture committee had -advertised her as "the lady who whistled before Queen Victoria," and -announced that she would speak on "The Missing link." When she ventured -to protest, the manager remarked amiably that they had "mixed her up -with a Shaw lady that whistles." - -"But I don't know anything about the 'missing link'!" continued Miss -Shaw. - -"Well, you see we chose that subject because they have been talking -about it in the Debating Society, and we knew it would arouse interest," -she was assured. "Just bring in a reference to it every now and then, -and it'll be all right." - -"Open the meeting with a song so that I can think for a minute and then -I'll see what can be done," said Miss Shaw pluckily. As the expectant -audience, led by the chairman, sang with patriotic fervor "The Star -Spangled Banner" and "America," the shipwrecked lecturer managed to -seize a straw of inspiration that turned in her grasp magically into a -veritable life-preserver. "It is easy," she said to herself. "Woman is -the missing link in our government. I'll give them a suffrage speech -along that line." - -Miss Shaw has labored many years for the Cause. She worked with courage, -dignity, and unfailing common sense and good humor, in the day of small -things when the suffrage pioneers were ridiculed by both men and women -as a band of unwomanly "freaks" and fanatics. She has lived to see the -Cause steadily grow in following and influence, and State after State -(particularly those of the growing, progressive West) call upon women -to share equally with men many of the duties of citizenship and social -service. She has seen that in such States there is no disposition to -go back to the old order of things, and that open-minded people freely -admit that it is only a question of time until the more conservative -parts of the country will fall into line and equal suffrage become -nation wide. - -Her days have been rich in happy work, large usefulness, and inspiring -friendships. Many honors have been showered upon her both in her -own country and abroad; but she has always looked upon the work -which she has been privileged to do as making the best--and the most -honorable--part of her life. - -Once, while attending a general conference of women in Berlin, she won -the interest and real friendship of a certain Italian princess, who -invited her to visit at her castle in Italy and also to go with her to -her mother's castle in Austria. As Miss Shaw was firm in declining these -distinguished honors, the princess begged an explanation. - -"Because, my dear princess," Miss Shaw explained, "I am a working-woman." - -"Nobody need _know_ that," murmured the princess, calmly. - -"On the contrary, it is the first thing I should explain," was the reply. - -"But why?" demanded the princess. - -"You are proud of your family, are you not?" asked Miss Shaw. "You are -proud of your great line?" - -"Assuredly," replied the princess. - -"Very well," continued Miss Shaw. "I am proud, too. What I have done I -have done unaided, and, to be frank with you, I rather approve of it. My -work is my patent of nobility, and I am not willing to associate with -those from whom it would have to be concealed or with those who would -look down upon it." - -Anna Howard Shaw's autobiography, which she calls "The Story of a -Pioneer," is an absorbingly interesting and inspiring narrative. It -gives with refreshing directness and wholesome appreciation the story -of her struggles and her work, together with revealing glimpses of some -of her comrades in the Cause; it is at once her own story and the story -of the pioneer days of the movement to which she gave her rich gifts of -mind and character. In conclusion she quotes a speech of a certain small -niece, who was overheard trying to rouse her still smaller sister to -noble indifference in the face of the ridicule of their playmates, who -had laughed when they had bravely announced that they were suffragettes. - -"Aren't you ashamed of yourself," she demanded, "to stop just because -you are laughed at once? Look at Aunt Anna! _She_ has been laughed at -for hundreds of years!" - -"I sometimes feel," added the Champion of the Cause, "that it has indeed -been hundreds of years since my work began; and then again it seems so -brief a time that, by listening for a moment, I fancy I can hear the -echo of my childish voice preaching to the trees in the Michigan woods. -But, long or short, the one sure thing is that, taking it all in all, -the fight has been worth while. Nothing bigger can come to a human -being than to love a great Cause more than life itself, and to have the -privilege throughout life of working for that Cause." - - - - -THE MAKING OF A PATRIOT: - -MARY ANTIN - - - - - Where is the true man's fatherland? - Is it where he by chance is born? - Doth not the yearning spirit scorn - In such scant borders to be spanned? - O yes! his fatherland must be - As the blue heaven wide and free! - - JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. - - - - -THE MAKING OF A PATRIOT - - -You know the story of "The Man without a Country"--the man who lost his -country through his own fault. Can you imagine what it would mean to be -a child without a country--to have no flag, no heroes, no true native -land to which you belong as you belong to your family, and which in turn -belongs to you? How would it seem to grow up without the feeling that -you have a big country, a true fatherland to protect your home and your -friends; to build schools for you; to give you parks and playgrounds, -and clean, beautiful streets; to fight disease and many dangers on land -and water for you?--This is the story of a little girl who was born in -a land where she had no chance for "life, liberty, and the pursuit of -happiness." Far from being a true fatherland, her country was like the -cruel stepmother of the old tales. - -It was strange that one could be born in a country and yet have no -right to live there! Little Maryashe (or Mashke, as she was called, -because she was too tiny a girl for a big-sounding name) soon learned -that the Russia where she was born was not her own country. It seemed -that the Russians did not love her people, or want them to live in their -big land. And yet there they were! Truly it was a strange world. - -"Why is Father afraid of the police?" asked little Mashke. "He has done -nothing wrong." - -"My child, the trouble is that we can do nothing right!" cried her -mother, wringing her hands. "Everything is wrong with us. We have no -rights, nothing that we dare to call our own." - -It seemed that Mashke's people had to live in a special part of the -country called the "Pale of Settlement." It was against the law to go -outside the Pale no matter how hard it was to make a living where many -people of the same manner of life were herded together, no matter how -much you longed to try your fortune in a new place. It was not a free -land, this Polotzk where she had been born. It was a prison with iron -laws that shut people away from any chance for happy living. - -It is hard to live in a cage, be it large or small. Like a wild bird, -the free human spirit beats its wings against any bars. - -"Why, Mother, why is it that we must not go outside the Pale?" asked -Mashke. - -"Because the Czar and those others who have the power to make the laws -do not love our people; they hate us and all our ways," was the reply. - -"But why do they hate us, Mother?" persisted the child with big, earnest -eyes. - -"Because we are different; because we can never think like them and be -like them. Their big Russia is not yet big enough to give people of -another sort a chance to live and be happy in their own way." - -Even in crowded Polotzk, though, with police spying on every side, -there were happy days. There were the beautiful Friday afternoons when -Mashke's father and mother came home early from the store to put off -every sign of the work-a-day world and make ready for the Sabbath. The -children were allowed to wear their holiday clothes and new shoes. They -stepped about happily while their mother hid the great store keys and -the money bag under her featherbed, and the grandmother sealed the oven -and cleared every trace of work from the kitchen. - -How Mashke loved the time of candle prayer! As she looked at the pure -flame of her candle the light shone in her face and in her heart. Then -she looked at the work-worn faces of her mother and grandmother. All the -lines of care and trouble were smoothed away in the soft light. They had -escaped from the prison of this unfriendly land with its hard laws and -its hateful Pale. They were living in the dim but glorious Past, when -their father's fathers had been a free nation in a land of their own. - -But Mashke could not escape from the prison in that way. She was young -and glad to be alive. Her candle shone for light and life to-day and -to-morrow and to-morrow! There were no bars that could shut away her -free spirit from the light. - -How glad she was for life and sunlight on the peaceful Sabbath -afternoons when, holding to her father's hand, she walked beyond the -city streets along the riverside to the place where in blossoming -orchards birds sang of the joyful life of the air, and where in newly -plowed fields peasants sang the song of planting-time and the fruitful -earth. Her heart leaped as she felt herself a part of the life that -flowed through all things--river, air, earth, trees, birds, and happy, -toiling people. - -It seemed to Mashke that most of her days were passed in -wondering--wondering about the strange world in which she found herself, -and its strange ways. Of course she played as the children about her -did, with her rag doll and her "jacks" made of the knuckle bones of -sheep; and she learned to dance to the most spirited tune that could be -coaxed from the teeth of a comb covered with a bit of paper. In winter -she loved to climb in the bare sledge, which when not actively engaged -in hauling wood could give a wonderful joy-ride to a party of happy -youngsters, who cared nothing that their sleigh boasted only straw and -burlap in place of cushions and fur robes, and a knotted rope in place -of reins with jingling bells. - -But always, winter and summer, in season and out of season, Mashke -found herself wondering about the meaning of all the things that she -saw and heard. She wondered about her hens who gave her eggs and broth, -and feathers for her bed, all in exchange for her careless largess of -grain. Did they ever feel that the barnyard was a prison? She wondered -about the treadmill horse who went round and round to pump water for the -public baths. Did he know that he was cheated out of the true life of a -horse--work-time in cheerful partnership with man and play-time in the -pasture with the fresh turf under his road-weary hoofs? Did the women, -who toiled over the selfsame tasks in such a weary round that they -looked forward to the change of wash-day at the river where they stood -knee-deep in the water to rub and scrub their poor rags, know that they, -too, were in a treadmill?--Sometimes she could not sleep for wondering, -and would steal from her bed before daybreak to walk through the dewy -grass of the yard and watch the blackness turn to soft, dreamy gray. -Then the houses seemed like breathing creatures, and all the world was -hushed and very sweet. Was there ever such a wonder as the coming of a -new day?--As she watched it seemed that her spirit flew beyond the town, -beyond the river and the glowing sky itself--touching, knowing, and -loving all things. Her spirit was free! - -Sometimes it seemed that the wings of her spirit could all but carry -her little body up and away. She was indeed such a wee mite that they -sometimes called her Mouse and Crumb and Poppy Seed. All of her eager, -flaming life was in her questioning eyes and her dark, wayward curls. -Because she was small and frail she was spared the hard work that early -fell to the lot of her older, stronger sister. So it happened that she -had time for her wonderings--time for her spirit to grow and try its -wings. - -Mashke was still a very little child when she learned a very big -truth. She discovered that there were many prisons besides those -made by Russian laws; she saw that her people often shut themselves -up in prisons of their own making. There were hundreds of laws and -observances--ways to wash, to eat, to dress, to work--which seemed to -many as sacred as their faith in God. Doubtless the rules which were -now only empty forms had once had meaning, such as the law forbidding -her people to touch fire on the Sabbath, which came down from a time -before matches or tinder-boxes when making a fire was hard work. But all -good people observed the letter of the law, and, no matter what the need -of mending a fire or a light, would wait for a Gentile helper to come to -the rescue. - -One memorable evening, however, Mashke saw her father, when he thought -himself unobserved, quietly steal over to the table and turn down a -troublesome lamp. The gleam of a new light came to the mind of the -watching, wondering child at that moment. She began to understand that -even her father, who was the wisest man in Polotzk, did many things -because he feared to offend the prejudices of their people, just as he -did many other things because of fear of the Russian police. There was -more than one kind of a prison. - -When Mashke was about ten years old a great change came to her life. -Her father decided to go on a long journey to a place far from Polotzk -and its rules of life, far from Russia and its laws of persecution and -death, to a true Promised Land where all people, it was said, no matter -what their nation and belief, were free to live and be happy in their -own way. The name of this Promised Land was America. Some friendly -people--the "emigration society," her father called them--made it -possible for him to go try his fortune in the new country. Soon he would -make a home there for them all. - -At last the wonderful letter came--a long letter, and yet it could -not tell the half of his joy in the Promised Land. He had not found -riches--no, he had been obliged to borrow the money for the third-class -tickets he was sending them--but he had found freedom. Best of all, his -children might have the chance to go to school and learn the things that -make a free life possible and worth while. - -Mashke found that they had suddenly become the most important people in -Polotzk. All the neighbors gathered about to see the marvelous tickets -that could take a family across the sea. Cousins who had not thought of -them for months came with gifts and pleadings for letters from the new -world. "Do not forget us when you are so happy and grand," they said. - -"You will see my boy, my Möshele," cried a poor mother again and again. -"Ask him why he does not write to us these many months. If you do not -find him in Boston maybe he will be in Balti-moreh. It is all America." - -The day came at last when every stool and feather-bed was sold, and -their clothes and all the poor treasures they could carry were wrapped -in queer-looking bundles ready to be taken in their arms to the new -home. All of Polotzk went to the station to wave gay handkerchiefs and -bits of calico and wish them well. They soon found, however, that the -way of the emigrant is hard. In order to reach the sea they had to go -through Germany to Hamburg, and a fearful journey it proved to be. It -was soon evident that the Russians were not the only cruel people in the -world; the Germans were just as cruel in strange and unusual ways, and -in a strange language. - -They put the travelers in prison, for which they had a queer name, of -course--"Quarantine," they called it. They drove them like cattle into -a most unpleasant place, where their clothes were snatched off, their -bodies rubbed with an evil, slippery substance, and their breath taken -away by an unexpected shower that suddenly descended on their helpless -heads. Their precious bundles, too, were tossed about rudely and steamed -and smoked. As the poor victims sat wrapped in clouds of steam waiting -for the final agony, their clothes were brought back, steaming like -everything else, and somebody cried, "Quick! Quick! or you will lose -your train!" It seemed that they were not to be murdered after all, but -that this was just the German way of treating people whom they thought -capable of carrying diseases about with them. - -Then came the sixteen days on the big ship, when Mashke was too ill part -of the time even to think about America. But there were better days, -when the coming of morning found her near the rail gazing at the path of -light that led across the shimmering waves into the heart of the golden -sky. That way seemed like her own road ahead into the new life that -awaited her. - -The golden path really began at a Boston public school. Here Mashke -stood in her new American dress of stiff calico and gave a new American -name to the friendly teacher of the primer class. Mary Antin she was -called from that day, all superfluous foreign letters being dropped off -forever. As her father tried in his broken English to tell the teacher -something of his hopes for his children, Mary knew by the look in his -eyes that he, too, had a vision of the path of light. The teacher -also saw that glowing, consecrated look and in a flash of insight -comprehended something of his starved past and the future for which -he longed. In his effort to make himself understood he talked with -his hands, with his shoulders, with his eyes; beads of perspiration -stood out on his earnest brow, and now he dropped back helplessly into -Yiddish, now into Russian. "I cannot now learn what the world knows; -I must work. But I bring my children--they go to school for me. I am -American citizen; I want my children be American citizens." - -The first thing was, of course, to make a beginning with the new -language. Afterward when Mary Antin was asked to describe the way the -teacher had worked with her foreign class she replied with a smile, "I -can't vouch for the method, but the six children in my own particular -group (ranging in age from six to fifteen--I was then twelve) attacked -the see-the-cat and look-at-the-hen pages of our primers with the -keenest zest, eager to find how the common world looked, smelled, and -tasted in the strange speech, and we learned!" There was a dreadful -time over learning to say _the_ without making a buzzing sound; even -mastering the v's and w's was not so hard as that. It was indeed a proud -day for Mary Antin when she could say "We went to the village after -water," to her teacher's satisfaction. - -How Mary Antin loved the American speech! She had a native gift for -language, and gathered the phrases eagerly, lovingly, as one gathers -flowers, ever reaching for more and still more. She said the words over -and over to herself with shining eyes as the miser counts his gold. Soon -she found that she was thinking in the beautiful English way. When she -had been only four months at school she wrote a composition on _Snow_ -that her teacher had printed in a school journal to show this foreign -child's wonderful progress in the use of the new tongue. Here is a bit -of that composition: - - Now the trees are bare, and no flowers are to see in the - fields and gardens (we all know why), and the whole world seems - like a-sleep without the happy bird songs which left us till - spring. But the snow which drove away all these pretty and - happy things, try (as I think) not to make us at all unhappy; - they covered up the branches of the trees, the fields, the - gardens and houses, and the whole world looks like dressed in a - beautiful white--instead of green--dress, with the sky looking - down on it with a pale face.... - -At the middle of the year the child who had entered the primer class in -September without a word of English was promoted to the fifth grade. She -was indeed a proud girl when she went home with her big geography book -making a broad foundation for all the rest of the pile, which she loved -to carry back and forth just because it made her happy and proud to be -seen in company with books. - -"Look at that pale, hollow-chested girl with that load of books," said a -kindly passer-by one day. "It is a shame the way children are overworked -in school these days." - -The child in question, however, would have had no basis for -understanding the chance sympathy had she overheard the words. Her -books were her dearest joy. They were indeed in a very real sense her -only tangible possessions. All else was as yet "the stuff that dreams -are made of." As she walked through the dingy, sordid streets her -glorified eyes looked past the glimpses of unlovely life about her into -a beautiful world of her own. If she felt any weight from the books she -carried it was just a comfortable reminder that this new Mary Antin and -the new life of glorious opportunity were real. - -When she climbed the two flights of stairs to her wretched tenement her -soul was not soiled by the dirt and squalor through which she passed. As -she eagerly read, not only her school history but also every book she -could find in the public library about the heroes of America, she did -not see the moldy paper hanging in shreds from the walls or the grimy -bricks of the neighboring factory that shut out the sunlight. Her look -was for the things beyond the moment--the things that really mattered. -How could the child feel poor and deprived when she knew that the city -of Boston was hers! - -As she walked every afternoon past the fine, dignified buildings and -churches that flanked Copley Square to the imposing granite structure -that held all her hero books, she walked as a princess into her palace. -Could she not read for herself the inscription at the entrance: Public -Library--Built by the People--Free to All--? Now she stood and looked -about her and said, "This is real. This all belongs to these wide-awake -children, these fine women, these learned men--and to _me_." - -Every nook of the library that was open to the public became familiar -to her; her eyes studied lovingly every painting and bit of mosaic. She -spent hours pondering the vivid pictures by Abbey that tell in color -the mystic story of Sir Galahad and the quest of the Holy Grail, and it -seemed as if the spirit of all romance was hers. She lingered in the -gallery before Sargent's pictures of the "Prophets," and it seemed as if -the spirit of all the beautiful Sabbaths of her childhood stirred within -her, as echoes of the Hebrew psalms awoke in her memory. - -[Illustration: © _Falk_ - -Mary Antin] - -When she went into the vast reading-room she always chose a place at -the end where, looking up from her books, she could get the effect of -the whole vista of splendid arches and earnest readers. It was in the -courtyard, however, that she felt the keenest joy. Here the child born -in the prison of the Pale realized to the full the glorious freedom that -was hers. - -"The courtyard was my sky-roofed chamber of dreams," she said. "Slowly -strolling past the endless pillars of the colonnade, the fountain -murmured in my ear of all the beautiful things in all the beautiful -world. Here I liked to remind myself of Polotzk, the better to bring -out the wonder of my life. That I who was brought up to my teens almost -without a book should be set down in the midst of all the books that -ever were written was a miracle as great as any on record. That an -outcast should become a privileged citizen, that a beggar should dwell -in a palace--this was a romance more thrilling than poet ever sung. -Surely I was rocked in an enchanted cradle." - -As Mary Antin's afternoons were made glorious by these visits to the -public library, so her nights were lightened by rare half-hours on the -South Boston Bridge where it crosses the Old Colony Railroad. As she -looked down at the maze of tracks and the winking red and green signal -lights, her soul leaped at the thought of the complex world in which -she lived and the wonderful way in which it was ordered and controlled -by the mind of man. Years afterward in telling about her dreams on the -bridge she said: - -"Then the blackness below me was split by the fiery eye of a monster -engine, his breath enveloped me in blinding clouds, his long body shot -by, rattling a hundred claws of steel, and he was gone. So would I be, -swift on my rightful business, picking out my proper track from the -million that cross it, pausing for no obstacles, sure of my goal." - -Can you imagine how the child from Polotzk loved the land that had -taken her to itself? As she stood up in school with the other children -and saluted the Stars and Stripes, the words she said seemed to come -from the depths of her soul: "I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the -Republic for which it stands--one nation indivisible, with liberty and -justice for all." Those were not words, they were heart throbs. The red -of the flag was not just a bright color, it was the courage of heroes; -the white was the symbol of truth clear as the sunlight; the blue was -the symbol of the wide, free heavens--her spirit's fatherland. The child -who had been born in prison, who had repeated at every Passover, "Next -year, may we be in Jerusalem," had found all at once her true country, -her flag, and her heroes. When the children rose to sing "America," she -sang with all the pent-up feeling of starved years of exile: - - I love thy rocks and rills, - Thy woods and templed hills. - -As the teacher looked into the glorified face of this little -alien-citizen she said to herself, "There is the truest patriot of them -all!" - -Only once as they were singing "Land where my fathers died," the child's -voice had faltered and died away. Her cheek paled when at the close of -school she came to her teacher with her trouble. - -"Oh, teacher," she mourned, "our country's song can't to mean me--_my_ -fathers didn't die here!" - -The friendly teacher, whose understanding and sympathy were never -failing, understood now: - -"Mary Antin," she said earnestly, looking through the child's great, -dark eyes into the depths of her troubled soul, "you have as much right -to those words as I or anybody else in America. The Pilgrim Fathers -didn't all come here before the Revolution. Isn't your father just like -them? Think of it, dear, how he left his home and came to a strange land -where he couldn't even speak the language. And didn't he come looking -for the same things? He wanted freedom for himself and his family, and -a chance for his children to grow up wise and brave. It's the same -story over again. Every ship that brings people from Russia and other -countries where they are ill-treated is a _Mayflower_!" - -These words took root in Mary Antin's heart and grew with her growth. -The consciousness that she was in very truth an American glorified her -days; it meant freedom from every prison. Seven years after her first -appearance in the Boston primer class she entered Barnard College. -After two years there and two more at Teachers College, she entered -the school of life as a homemaker; her name is now Mary Antin Grabau. -Besides caring for her home and her little daughter, she has devoted her -gifts as a writer and a lecturer to the service of her country. - -In her book, "The Promised Land," she has told the story of her life -from the earliest memories of her childhood in Russia to the time when -she entered college. It is an absorbing human story, but it is much -more than that. It is the story of one who looks upon her American -citizenship as a great "spiritual adventure," and who strives to quicken -in others a sense of their opportunities and responsibilities as heirs -of the new freedom. She pleads for a generous treatment of all those -whom oppression and privation send to make their homes in our land. It -is only by being faithful to the ideal of human brotherhood expressed -in the Declaration of Independence that our nation can realize its true -destiny, she warns us. - -Mary Antin was recently urged to write a history of the United States -for children, that would give the inner meaning of the facts as well as -a clear account of the really significant events. - - "I have long had such a work in mind," she wrote, "and I - suppose I shall have to do it some day. In the meantime I _talk_ - history to my children--my little daughter of eight and the - Russian cousin who goes to school in the kitchen. Only yesterday - at luncheon I told them about our system of representative - government, and our potatoes grew cold on our plates, we were - all so absorbed." - - -In all that Mary Antin writes and in all that she says her faith in her -country and her zeal for its honor shine out above all else. To the new -pilgrims who lived and suffered in other lands before they sought refuge -in America, as well as to those who can say quite literally, "Land where -my fathers died," she brings this message: - -"We must strive to be worthy of our great heritage as American citizens -so that we may use wisely and well its wonderful privileges. To be alive -in America is to ride on the central current of the river of modern -life; and to have a conscious purpose is to hold the rudder that steers -the ship of fate." - - - - -A CAMPFIRE INTERPRETER: - -ALICE C. FLETCHER - - - - - Ho! All ye heavens, all ye of the earth, - I bid ye hear me! - Into your midst has come a new life; - Consent ye! Consent ye all, I implore! - Make its path smooth, then shall it travel - beyond the four hills. - - _Omaha Tribal Rite._ - - Translated by Alice C. Fletcher. - - - - -A CAMPFIRE INTERPRETER - - -A great poet once tried to look into the future and picture the kind of -people who might some day live upon the earth--people wiser and happier -than we are because they shall have learned through our mistakes and -carried to success our beginnings, and so have come to understand fully -many things that we see dimly as through a mist. These people Tennyson -calls the "crowning race": - - Of those that eye to eye shall look - On knowledge; under whose command - Is Earth and Earth's, and in their hand - Is Nature like an open book. - -You see he believed that the way to gain command of Earth is through -learning to read the open book of Nature. That book is closed to most -of us to-day, but we are just beginning to spell out something of its -message, and as we begin to understand we feel that it is not a strange -speech but our own true mother tongue, which ears, deafened by the noise -of the busy world, have almost ceased to hear and understand. There -comes a time, however, when we feel "the call of the wild." We long to -get away from the hoarse cries of engines, and the grinding roar of -turning wheels, to a quiet that is unbroken even by a passing motor horn. - -Have you ever found yourself for a happy half-hour alone among the great -trees of the friendly woods? You must have felt that in getting near to -Nature you were finding yourself. Did not the life of the trees, of the -winged creatures of the branches, of the cool mossy ground itself, seem -a part of your life? - -Have you ever climbed a hill when it seemed that the wind was blowing -something of its own strength and freshness into your soul? Did you not -feel as if you were mounting higher and higher into the air and lifting -the sky with you? Have you ever found yourself at evening in a great -clear open place where the tent of the starry heavens over your head -seemed nearer than the shadowy earth and all the things of the day? - -This is the story of a girl who loved to listen to the deep chant of -the ocean, to the whisper of the wind in the trees, and to the silence -in the heart of the hills. She came to feel that there was a joy and a -power in the open--in the big, free, unspoiled haunts of furtive beasts -and darting birds--that all the man-made wonders of the world could not -give. - -"If I am so much happier and more alive," she said to herself, "in the -days that I spend under the open sky, what must it be like _always_ -to live this freer life? Did not the people who lived as Nature's own -children in these very woods that I come to as the guest of an hour or a -summer, have a wisdom and a strength that our life to-day cannot win?" - -Again and again the thought came knocking at her heart: "The men whom we -call savages, whom we have crowded out of the land they once roamed over -freely, must have learned very much in all the hundreds of years that -they lived close to Nature. They could teach us a great deal that cannot -be found in books." - -Alice C. Fletcher grew up in a cultured New England home. She had the -freedom of a generous library and early learned to feel that great -books and wise men were familiar friends. They talked to her kindly and -never frightened her by their big words and learned looks. She looked -through the veil of words to the living meaning. - -She was, too, very fond of music. Playing the piano was more than -practising an elegant accomplishment--just as reading her books was more -than learning lessons. As the books stirred her mind to thinking and -wondering, so the music stirred her heart to feeling and dreaming. - -It often seemed, however, that much that her books and music struggled -in vain to bring to her within walls was quite clear when she found -herself in the large freedom of Nature's house. The sunshine, the blue -sky, and the good, wholesome smell of the brown earth seemed to give a -taste of the - - Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health, - Truth breathed by cheerfulness. - -Once in her reading she came upon the story of the scholar who left -Oxford and the paths of learning to follow the ways of the wandering -gypsies in order that he might learn the natural wisdom they had won. -"Ah," she said to herself, "some day when I am free to live my life in -my own way I shall leave my books and go out among the Indians. Our -country should know what its first children saw and thought and felt. I -shall try to see with their eyes and hear with their ears for a while -and I shall discover, in that way, perhaps, a new world--one that will -be lost forever when the Red Men are made to adopt all the tricks and -manners of civilized life." - -The time came when she found herself free to realize this dream. - -"You don't mean to say you are really going to live with the Indians?" -her friends exclaimed. - -"How else can I know them?" she replied quietly. - -"But to give up every necessary comfort!" - -"There is something perhaps better than just making sure that we are -always quite comfortable," said Miss Fletcher. "Of course, I shall miss -easy chairs and cozy chats, and all the lectures, concerts, latest -books, and daily papers, but I'm glad to find out that all these nice -things are not really so _necessary_ that they can keep me from doing a -bit of work that is really worth while, and which, perhaps, needs just -what I can bring to it." - -At this time Miss Fletcher's earnest, thoughtful studies of what books -and museums could teach about the early history of America and the -interesting time before history, had given her a recognized place among -the foremost scholars of archeology--the science that reads the story of -the forgotten past through the relics that time has spared. - -"Many people can be found to study the things about the Indians which -can be collected and put in museums," said Miss Fletcher, "but there is -need of a patient, sympathetic study of the people themselves." - -In order to make this study, she spent not only months but years among -the Dakota and Omaha Indians. From a wigwam made of buffalo skins she -watched the play of the children and the life of the people and listened -to their songs and stories. - -"The Indian is not the stern, unbending wooden Indian that shows -neither interest nor feeling of any sort, as many people have come -to think of him," said Miss Fletcher. "Those who picture him so have -never really known him. They have only seen the side he turns toward -strangers. In the home and among their friends the Indians show fun, -happy give-and-take, and warm, alert interest in the life about them." - -The cultivated New England woman and distinguished scholar won their -confidence because of her sincerity, tact, and warm human sympathy. -She not only learned their speech and manners but also the language of -their hearts. Her love of Nature helped her to a ready understanding of -these children of Nature or Wakonda--as they called the spirit of life -that breathes through earth and sky, rocks, streams, plants, all living -creatures, and the tribes of men. The beautiful ceremony by which, -soon after his birth, each Omaha child was presented to the powers of -Nature showed this sense of kinship between the people and their world. -A priest of the tribe stood outside the wigwam to which the new life -had been sent, and with right hand outstretched to the heavens chanted -these words in a loud voice: - - Ho, ye Sun, Moon, Stars, all ye that move in the heavens, - I bid ye hear me! - Into your midst has come a new life; - Consent ye, I implore! - Make its path smooth, that it may reach - The brow of the first hill. - -Next the forces of the air--winds, clouds, mist, and rain--were called -upon to receive the young child and smooth the path to the second hill. -Then hills, valleys, rivers, lakes, trees, and all growing things were -invoked, after which the spirits of birds, animals, and all moving -creatures were summoned to make the path smooth to the third and fourth -hills. As the priest intoned the noble appeal to all the powers of the -earth and air and bending heavens, even those who could not understand -the words would know that the four hills meant childhood, youth, -manhood, and age, and that a new life was being presented to the forces -of the universe of which it was a part. So it was that each child was -thought of as belonging to Wakonda--to the spirit of all life--before he -belonged to the tribe. For it was not until he was four or five years -old that he gave up his "baby name," such as Bright Eyes, Little Bird, -or Baby Squirrel, and was given a real name and received into the life -of the people. - -Miss Fletcher soon became interested in the music of the Indians. Her -trained ear told her that here was something new. The haunting bits -of melody and strange turns of rhythm were quite different from any -old-world tunes. - -"At first it was very hard to hear them," said Miss Fletcher. "The -Indians never sang to be heard by others. Their singing was a -spontaneous expression of their feeling--for the most part, religious -feeling. In their religious ceremonies the noise of the dancing and of -the drums and rattles often made it very hard to really catch the sound -of the voice." - -Day after day she strove to hear and write down bits of the music, but -it was almost like trying to imprison the sound of the wind in the -tree-tops. - -"Do you remember," said Miss Fletcher, "how the old Saxon poet tried to -explain the mystery of life by saying it was like a bird flying through -the windows of a lighted hall out of the darkness to darkness again? -An Indian melody is like that. It has no preparations, no beginning. It -flashes upon you and is gone, leaving only a teasing memory behind." - -While this lover of music was vainly trying to catch these strangely -beautiful strains of melody, the unaccustomed hardships of her life -brought upon her a long illness. There was compensation, however, for -when she could no longer go after the thing she sought it came to her. -Her Indian friends who had found out that she was interested in their -songs gathered about her couch to sing them for her. - -"So my illness was after all like many of our so-called trials, a -blessing in disguise," said Miss Fletcher. "I was left with this -lameness, but I had the music. The sigh had become a song!" - -You have, perhaps, heard of the great interest that many learned people -have in the songs and stories of simple folk--the folk-songs and -folk-tales of different lands. Did you know that Sir Walter Scott's -first work in literature was the gathering of the simple ballads of the -Scottish peasants which they had long repeated just as you repeat the -words of "ring games" learned from other children? - -Did you know that most of the fairy stories and hero tales that you -love were told by people who had never held a book in their hands, and -were repeated ages and ages ago before the time of books? Just as it -is true that broad, flowing rivers have their source in streams that -well up out of the ground, so it is true that the literature of every -nation has its source in the fancies that have welled up out of the -hearts and imaginations of the simple people. The same thing is true of -music. Great composers like Brahms and Liszt took the wild airs of the -Hungarian gypsies and made them into splendid compositions that all the -world applauds. Chopin has done this with the songs of the simple Polish -folk. Dvorák, the great Bohemian composer, has made his "New World -Symphony" of negro melodies, and Cadman and others are using the native -Indian music in the same way. - -Just as the Grimm brothers went about among the German peasants to learn -their interesting stories, just as Sir George Dasent worked to get the -tales of the Norse, so Alice Cunningham Fletcher worked to preserve the -songs and stories of the Indians. Others have come after her and have -gone on with the work she began, following the trail she blazed. All -musicians agree that this native song with its fascinating and original -rhythms may prove the source of inspiration for American composers of -genius and give rise to our truest new-world music. - -Much of Miss Fletcher's work is preserved in great learned volumes, such -as "The Omaha Tribe," published by the National Government, for she -wrote as a scientist for those who will carry on the torch of science -into the future. But realizing that the music would mean much to many -who cannot enter upon the problems with which the wise men concern -themselves, she has presented many of the songs in a little book called -"Indian Story and Song." We find there, for instance, the "Song of the -Laugh" sung when the brave young warrior recounts the story of the way -he has slain his enemy with his own club and so helped to fill with fear -the foes of his tribe. - -We find, too, the story of the youth who begins his life as a man by a -lonely vigil when by fasting he proves his powers of endurance. - -The Omaha tribal prayer is the solemn melody that sounded through the -forests of America long before the white man came to this country--a cry -of the yearning human spirit to Wakonda, the spirit of all life. - -Try to picture Miss Fletcher surrounded by her Indian friends, -explaining to them carefully all about the strange machine before -which she wants them to sing. For the graphophone was a field worker -with her--for a time her chief assistant in catching the elusive -Indian songs. Perhaps there could have been no greater proof of their -entire confidence in her than their willingness to sing for her again -and again, and even to give into the keeping of her queer little -black cylinders the strains that voiced their deepest and most sacred -feelings. For Indian music is, for the most part, an expression of the -bond between the human spirit and the unseen powers of Nature. It must -have been that they felt from the first that here was some one who -understood them because she, too, loved the Nature they knew and loved. - -While Miss Fletcher was thus happily at work she became aware, however, -that there was keen distress among these friends to whom she had -become warmly attached. Some of their neighbors, the Ponca Indians, -had been removed from their lands to the dreaded "hot country"--Indian -Territory--and the Omaha people feared that the same thing might -happen to them, for it was very easy for unprincipled white men to -take advantage of the Indians who held their lands as a tribe, not as -individuals. - -Always on the frontier of settlement there were bold adventurers who -coveted any promising tracts of land that the Indians possessed. They -said to themselves, "We could use this country to much better advantage -than these savages, therefore it should be ours." They then would -encroach more and more on the holdings of the Indians, defying them -by every act which said plainly, "A Redskin has no rights!" Sometimes -when endurance could go no further the Indians would rise up in active -revolt. Then what more easy than to cry out, "An Indian uprising! There -will be a massacre! Send troops to protect us from the mad fury of the -savages!" The Government would then send a detachment of cavalry to -quell the outbreak, after which it would seem wiser to move the Indians -a little farther away from contact with the white men, who now had just -what they had been working toward from the first--the possession of the -good land. - -Miss Fletcher realized that the only remedy for this condition was for -each Indian to secure from the Government a legal title to a portion -of the tribal grant which he might hold as an individual. She left her -happy work with the music and went to Washington to explain to the -President and to Congress the situation as she knew it. The cause was, -at this time, greatly furthered by the appearance of a book by Helen -Hunt Jackson, called "A Century of Dishonor," an eloquent presentation -of the Indians' wrongs and a burning plea for justice. - -There was need, however, of some practical worker, who knew the Indians -and Indian affairs intimately, to point to a solution of the problem. -The conscience of the people was aroused, but they did not know how it -was possible to prevent in the future the same sort of wrongs that had -made the past hundred years indeed "a century of dishonor." Then the -resolute figure of Miss Alice Fletcher appeared on the scene. She was -well known to the government authorities for her valuable scientific -work. Here was some one they knew, who really could explain the exact -state of affairs and who could also interpret fairly the mind of the -Indian. She could be depended on as one who would not be swayed by mere -sentimental considerations. She would know the practical course to -pursue. - -"Let the Indians hold their land as the white men hold theirs," she -said. "That is the only way to protect them from wrong and to protect -the Government from being a helpless partner to the injustice that is -done them." - -[Illustration: Alice C. Fletcher] - -Now, it is one thing to influence people who are informed and interested -and quite another to awaken the interest of those who are vitally -concerned with totally different things. Miss Fletcher realized that -if anything was to be actually accomplished she must leave no stone -unturned to bring the matter to the attention of those who had not -heretofore given a thought to the Indian question and the responsibility -of the Government. She presented a petition to Congress and worked early -and late to drive home to the people the urgent need of legislation -in behalf of the Indians. She spoke in clubs, in churches, in private -houses, and before committees in Congress. And actually the busy -congressmen who always feel that there is not half time enough to -consider measures by which their own States and districts will profit, -gave right of way to the Indian Land Act, and in 1882 it became a law. - -There was the need of the services of some disinterested person to -manage the difficult matter of dividing the tribal tracts and allotting -to each Indian his own acres, and Miss Fletcher was asked by the -President to undertake this work. - -"Why do you trust Miss Fletcher above any one else?" asked President -Cleveland on one occasion when he was receiving a delegation of Omahas -at the White House. - -"We have seen her in our homes; we have seen her in her home. We find -her always the same," was the reply. - -The work which Miss Fletcher did in allotting the land to the Omahas -was so successfully handled that she was appealed to by the Government -to serve in the same capacity for the Winnebago and Nez Percé Indians. -The law whose passage was secured by her zeal was the forerunner the -Severalty Act of 1885 which marked a change in policy of the Government -and ushered in a better era for all the Indian tribes. - -"What led you to undertake this important work?" Miss Fletcher was asked. - -"The most natural desire in the world--the impulse to help my friends -where I saw the need," she replied. "I did not set out resolved to have -a career--to form and to reform. There is no story in my life. It has -always been just one step at a time--one thing which I have tried to do -as well as I could and which has led on to something else. It has all -been in the day's work." - -Miss Fletcher has been much interested in the work of the Boy and Girl -Scouts and in the Campfire Societies, because she feels that in this way -many children are brought to an appreciation of the great out-of-doors -and win health, power, and joy which the life of cities cannot give. For -them she has made a collection of Indian games and dances. - -"Just as the spirit of Sir Walter Scott guides us through the Scottish -lake country and as Dickens leads us about old London, so the spirit of -the Indians should make us more at home in the forests of America," said -Miss Fletcher. "In sharing the happy fancies of these first children of -America we may win a new freedom in our possession of the playground of -the great out-of-doors." - - - - -THE "WHITE MOTHER" OF DARKEST AFRICA: - -MARY SLESSOR - - - - - I am ready to go anywhere, provided it be forward. - - DAVID LIVINGSTONE. - - - God can't give His best till we have given ours! - - MARY SLESSOR. - - - - -THE "WHITE MOTHER" OF DARKEST AFRICA - - -Among all the weavers in the great factory at Dundee there was no girl -more deft and skilful than Mary Slessor. She was only eleven when she -had to help shoulder the cares of the household and share with the frail -mother the task of earning bread for the hungry children. For the little -family was worse than fatherless. The man who had once been a thrifty, -self-respecting shoemaker had become a slave to drink; and his life was -a burden to himself and to those who were nearest and dearest to him. - -"Dinna cry, mither dear," Mary had said. "I can go to the mills in the -morning and to school in the afternoon. It will be a glad day, earning -and learning at the same time!" - -So Mary became a "half-timer" in the mills. At six o'clock every morning -she was at work among the big whirling wheels. Even the walls and -windows seemed to turn sometimes as the hot wind came in her face from -the whizzing belts, and the roar of the giant wheels filled all her day -with din and clamor. - -But as Mary worked week after week, she learned more than the trick -of handling the shuttle at the moving loom. She learned how to send -her thoughts far away from the noisy factory to a still place of -breeze-stirred trees and golden sunshine. Sometimes a book, which she -had placed on the loom to peep in at free moments, helped her to slip -away in fancy from the grinding toil. What magic one could find in the -wonderful world of books! The wheels whirled off into nothingness, the -walls melted away like mist, and her spirit was free to wander through -all the many ways of the wide world. And so it was that she went from -the hours of work and earning to the hours of study and learning with a -blithe, morning face, her brave soul shining through bright eager eyes. - -"When we're all dragged out, and feel like grumbling at everything and -nothing seems of any use at all, Mary Slessor is still up and coming, as -happy as a cricket," said one of the girls who worked by her side. "She -makes you take heart in spite of yourself, and think it's something to -be glad over just to be living and working." - -"It's wonderful the way your hand can go on with the shuttle and do the -turn even better than you could if you stopped to take thought," Mary -would explain. "That leaves your mind free to go another way. Now this -morning I was not in the weaving shed at all; I was far away in Africa, -seeing all the strange sights the missionary from Calabar told us about -last night at meeting." - -Heaven was very near to Mary Slessor, and the stars seemed more real -than the street lamps of the town. She had come to feel that the -troubles and trials of her days were just steps on the path that she -would travel. Always she looked past the rough road to the end of the -journey where there was welcome in the Father's house for all His tired -children. There was, moreover, one bit of real romance in that gray -Scotch world of hers. The thrill of beauty and mystery and splendid -heroism was in the stories that the missionaries told of Africa, the -land of tropical wonders--pathless forests, winding rivers under -bending trees, bright birds, and brighter flowers--and people, hundreds -of black people, with black lives because the light of truth had never -shone in their world. She knew that white people who called themselves -Christians had gone there to carry them away for slaves; and to get -their palm-oil and rubber and give them rum in exchange--rum that was -making them worse than the wild beasts of the jungle. How Mary Slessor -longed to be one to carry the good news of a God of Love to those people -who lived and died in darkness! "Somebody must help those who can't help -themselves!" she said to herself. - -"The fields are ripe for the harvest but the laborers are few," one of -the missionaries had said. "We fear the fever and other ills that hide -in the bush more than we fear to fail in God's service. Men have gone to -these people to make money from the products of their land; they have -bought and sold the gifts of their trees; they have bought and sold the -people themselves; they are selling them death to-day in the strong -drink they send there. Is there no one who is willing to go to take life -to these ignorant children who have suffered so many wrongs?" - -These words sank deep into Mary Slessor's heart. But it was plain that -her mission was to the little home in Dundee. She was working now among -the turning wheels all day from six until six, and going to school in -the evening; but she found time to share with others the secret of the -joy that she had found, the light that had made the days of toil bright. -The boys that came to her class in the mission school were "toughs" from -the slums of the town, but she put many of them on the road to useful, -happy living. Her brave spirit won them from their fierce lawlessness; -her patience and understanding helped to bring out and fortify the best -that was in them. - -Once a much-dreaded "gang" tried to break up the mission with a battery -of mud and jeers. When Mary Slessor faced them quietly, the leader, -boldly confronting her, swung a leaden weight which hung suspended -from a cord, about her head threateningly. It came nearer and nearer -until it grazed her temple, but the mission teacher never flinched. Her -eyes still looked into those of the boy's--bright, untroubled, and -searching. His own dropped, and the missile fell forgotten to the ground. - -"She's game, boys!" he cried, surprised out of himself. - -And the unruly mob filed into the mission to hear what the "game" lady -had to say. Mary Slessor had never heard of the poet, Horace; but she -had put to the proof the truth of the well-known lines, which declare -that "the man whose life is blameless and free from evil has no need of -Moorish javelins, nor bow, nor quiver full of poisoned arrows." - -As in her work with the wild boys of the streets, so in her visits -to the hopeless people of the dark tenements, Mary Slessor was a -powerful influence because she entered their world as one of them, -with a faith in the better self of each that called into new life his -all-but-extinguished longing for better things. - -"As she sat by the fire holding the baby and talking cheerily about her -days at the mills and the Sabbath morning at chapel, it seemed as if -I were a girl again, happy and hopeful and ready to meet whatever the -morrow might bring," said a discouraged mother to whom Mary had been a -friend in need. - -"It is like hearing the kirk-bells on a Sunday morning at the old home, -hearing your voice, Mary Slessor," said a poor blind woman to whom Mary -had brought the light of restored faith. - -For fourteen years this happy Scotch girl worked in the factory for ten -hours each day, and shared her evenings and Sundays with her neighbors -of the mission. Besides, she seized moments by the way for study and -reading. Her mind was hungry to understand the meaning of life and the -truths of religion. One day, in order to find out the sort of mental -food she craved, a friend lent her Carlyle's "Sartor Resartus." - -"How are you and Carlyle getting on together?" he asked quizzically when -they next met. - -"It is grand!" she replied with earnest enthusiasm. "I sat up reading -it, and was so interested that I did not know what the time was until I -heard the factory bells calling me to work in the morning." - -Thus her mind was growing and expanding, while her spirit grew through -faithful work and loyal service. Her simple, direct speech had an -eloquent appeal that went straight to the heart. In spite of an -unconquerable timidity that made her shrink from platform appearances, -her informal addresses had wide influence. Once she rose in her place at -a public meeting and gave a quiet talk on the words: _The common people -heard him gladly._ "And," it was said, "the common people heard _her_ -gladly, and crowded around, pleading with her to come again." - -In 1874, when every one was stirred by the death of David Livingstone, -Mary Slessor's life was transfigured by a great resolve. The years had -brought changes. Her father was dead, and her sisters were old enough to -share the burden of supporting the family. - -"The time has come for me to join the band of light-bearers to the Dark -Continent," said Mary, with a conviction that overcame every obstacle. -"It is my duty to go where the laborers are few. Besides, there must be -a way to work there and send help to mother at home." - -She knew that the missionaries were given a stipend to support them -in the manner of the country from which they came. "I shall as far as -possible live on the food of the country," she said. "It may be that -by sharing to a greater extent the conditions of life of the people, I -can come to a fuller understanding of them and they of me. Besides, it -will not be so hard to leave home if I can feel that I am still earning -something for mother." - -So Mary Slessor went, after a few months of special preparation to -teach the natives of Calabar. She was at this time twenty-eight years -old. Ever since she was a mere slip of a girl, she had longed to serve -in that most discouraging of fields--"the slums of Africa," it was -called. The people who inhabited that swampy, equatorial region were -the most wretched and degraded of all the negro tribes. They had for -ages been the victims of stronger neighbors, who drove them back from -the drier and more desirable territory that lay farther inland; and of -their own ignorance and superstitions, which were at the root of their -blood-thirsty, savage customs. - -It was in September, 1876, that the vessel _Ethiopia_ sailed out of -the clean, blue Atlantic into the mud-colored Calabar River. At its -prow stood Mary Slessor, gazing soberly at the vast mangrove swamps and -wondering about the unknown, unexplored land beyond, where she should -pitch her tent and begin her work. Though white men had for centuries -come to the coast to trade for gold dust, ivory, palm oil, spices, -and slaves, they had never ventured inland, and the natives who lived -near the shore had sought to keep the lion's share of the profit by -preventing the remoter tribes from coming with their goods to barter -directly with the men of the big ships. So only a few miles from the -mouth of the Calabar River was a land where white people had never gone, -whose inhabitants had never seen a white face. It was to this place of -unknown dangers that Mary Slessor was bound. - -For a time she remained at the mission settlement to learn the language, -while teaching in the day school. As soon as she gained sufficient ease -in the use of the native speech, she began to journey through the bush, -as the tropical jungles of palms, bananas, ferns, and thick grass were -called. Her heart sang as she went along, now wading through a spongy -morass bright with orchids, now jumping over a stream or the twisted -roots of a giant tree. After the chill grayness of her Scottish country, -this land seemed at first a veritable paradise of golden warmth, -alluring sounds and scents, and vivid color. Now she paused in delight -as a brilliant bird flashed through the branches overhead; now she went -on with buoyant step, drinking in the tropical fragrance with every -breath. Surely so fair a land could not be so deadly as it was said. She -_must_ keep well for the task that lay before her. She could not doubt -that each day would bring strength for the day's work. - -With two or three of the boys from the Calabar school as guides, she -made the journey to some of the out-districts. Here a white face was a -thing of wonder or terror. The children ran away shrieking with fear; -the women pressed about her, chattering and feeling her clothing and her -face, to see if she were real. At first she was startled, but she soon -divined that this was just the beginning of friendly acquaintance. - -Miss Slessor soon showed an astonishing mastery of the language, and an -even more amazing comprehension of the minds of the people. She realized -that the natives were not devoid of ideas and beliefs, but that, on -the contrary, certain crude conceptions, strongly rooted through the -custom and tradition of ages, accounted for many of their horrible -practices. They put all twin babies to death because they believed that -one of them was a demon-child whose presence in a tribe would bring -untold harm on the people. They tortured and murdered helpless fellow -creatures, not wantonly, but because they believed that their victims -had been bewitching a suffering chief--for disease was a mysterious -blight, caused by the "evil eye" of a malicious enemy. When a chief died -many people were slaughtered, for of course he would want slaves and -companions in the world of spirits. - -It was wonderful the way Mary Slessor was able to move about among the -rude, half-naked savages as confidently as she had among her people -in Scotland, looking past the dirt and ugliness to the human heart -beneath, tortured by fear or grief, and say a word that brought hope -and comfort. She feared neither the crouching beasts of the jungle nor -the treacherous tribes of the scattered mud villages. Picking her way -over the uncertain bush trails, she carried medicine, tended the sick, -and spoke words of sympathy and cheer to the distressed. Sometimes she -stayed away over several nights, when her lodging was a mud hut and her -bed a heap of unpleasant rags. - -The people soon learned that her interest went beyond teaching and -preaching and giving aid to the sick. She cared enough for their welfare -to lead them by night past the sentries of the jealous coast tribes to -the factory near the beach, where they could dispose of their palm oil -and kernels to their own profit. She won in this way the good will of -the traders who said: - -"There is a missionary of the right sort! She will accomplish something -because she is taking hold of all the problems that concern her people, -and is working systematically to improve all the conditions of their -lives." - -One day she set forth on a trip of thirty miles along the river to visit -the village of a chief named Okon, who had sent begging her to come. -A state canoe, which was lent by King Eyo of Calabar, had been gaily -painted in her honor, and a canopy of matting to shield her from the sun -and dew had been thoughtfully erected over a couch of rice bags. Hours -passed in the tender formalities of farewell, and when the paddlers -actually got the canoe out into the stream it was quite dark. The red -gleam of their torches fell upon venomous snakes and alligators, but -there was no fear while her companions beat the "tom-tom" and sang, as -they plied their paddles, loud songs in her praise, such as: - - "Ma, our beautiful, beloved mother is on board! - Ho! Ho! Ho!" - -Such unwonted clamor no doubt struck terror to all the creatures with -claws and fangs along the banks. - -After ten hours' paddling, she arrived at Okon's village. A human skull -stuck on a pole was the first sight that greeted her. Crowds gathered -about to stare and touch her hand to make sure that she was flesh and -blood. At meal times a favored few who were permitted to watch her eat -and drink ran about, excitedly reporting every detail to their friends. - -For days she went around giving medicines, bandaging, cutting out -garments, and teaching the women the mysteries of sewing, washing, and -ironing. In the evenings all the people gathered about her quietly while -she told them about the God she served--a God of love, whose ways were -peace and loving kindness. At the end they filed by, wishing her good -night with much feeling before they disappeared into the blackness of -the night. - -These new friends would not permit her to walk about in the bush as she -had been used to doing. There were elephants in the neighboring jungle, -they said. The huge beasts had trampled down all their growing things, -so that they had to depend mainly on fishing. One morning, on hearing -that a boa constrictor had been seen, bands of men armed with clubs -and muskets set off, yelling fearsomely, to hunt the common enemy. But -more terrible to Mary Slessor than any beast of prey were the skulls, -horrible images, and offerings to ravenous spirits, that she saw on -every side. How was it possible to teach the law of love to a people who -had never known anything but the tyranny of fear? - -"I must learn something of the patience of the Creator of all," she said -to herself again and again. "For how long has He borne with the sins and -weakness of His poor human children, always caring for us and believing -that we can grow into something better in spite of all!" - -After two weeks in "Elephant Country," Miss Slessor made ready to return -to the mission. Rowers, canoe, and baggage were in readiness, and a -smoking pot of yams and herbs cooked in palm oil was put on board for -the evening meal. Scarcely had they partaken, however, when Mary saw -that the setting sun was surrounded by angry clouds, and her ear caught -the ominous sound of the wind wailing in the tree-tops. - -"We are coming into a stormy night," she said fearfully to Okon, who was -courteously escorting the party back to Old Town. - -The chief lifted his black face to the black sky and scanned the -clouds solemnly. Then he hastily steered for a point of land that lay -sheltered from the wind. Before they could reach the lee side, however, -the thunder broke, and the wild sweep of the wind seized the canoe and -whirled it about like a paper toy. Crew and chief alike were helpless -from terror when Mary took her own fear in hand and ordered the rowers -to make for the tangle of trees that bordered the bank. The men pulled -together with renewed hope and strength until the shelter of the bush -was reached. Then springing like monkeys into the overhanging branches, -they held on to the canoe which was being dashed up and down like a -straw. The "White Mother," who was sitting in water to her knees and -shaking with ague, calmed the fears of the panic-stricken children who -had buried their faces in her lap, and looked about in awed wonder at -the weird beauty of the scene. The vivid flashes of lightning shattered -the darkness with each peal of thunder, revealing luxuriant tropical -vegetation rising above the lashed water, foaming and hissing under the -slanting downpour of the rain, and the tossing canoe with the crouching, -gleaming-wet figures of the frightened crew. - -This was but one of many thrilling adventures that filled the days of -the brave young missionary. When the appeal came, no matter what the -time of midday heat or midnight blackness, she was ready to journey for -hours through the bush to bring succor and comfort. - -Once the news came that the chief of a village had been seized by a -mysterious illness. Knowing that this would mean torture, and death, -perhaps, to those suspected of having enviously afflicted him by the -"evil eye," she set off along the trail through the dense forest to use -all her influence to save the unfortunate victims. - -[Illustration: _Courtesy of George H. Doran Company_ - -Mary Slessor] - -"But, Ma," the people would protest, "you don't understand. If you -god-people not punish evil, bad ones say, 'God-ways no good!' Bad -ones go round cast spells with no fear. No one safe at all." - -Of all their superstitious fears, the horror of twin babies was the most -universal. With great difficulty Miss Slessor managed to save a few -of these unfortunate infants. At first some of the people refused to -come into the hut where a twin child was kept; but when they saw that -no plague attacked the place or the rash white "Ma," they looked upon -her with increased respect. The "White Mother" must have a power much -greater than that of the witch-doctors. - -The witch-doctors knew a great deal, no doubt. When a man had a -tormented back they could tell what enemy had put a spell on him. - -"Oh, yes, Ma, the witch-doctor he knows," declared a chief who was -suffering with an abscess, "just see all those claws, teeth, and bones -over there. He took them all out of my back." - -But if "Ma" did not understand about such spells, she had a wonderful -magic of her own; she knew soothing things to put on the bewitched back -that could drive the pain away and make it well. The influence of the -healer was often stronger than the influence of the witch-doctor and the -superstitious fears of all the tribe. Again and again her will prevailed -in the palaver, and the chief to please her would spare the lives of -those who should by every custom of the land be put to death. - -"Ma" required strange things of them, but she was the best friend they -had ever had. When she stood up before them and spoke so movingly it -seemed as if she would talk the heart right out of the sternest savage -of them all! She made them forget the things that they had known all -their lives. Who would have believed that they would even dream of -allowing a chief's son to go unattended into the spirit-world? Yet -when she begged them to spare the lives of the slaves who should have -been sent with him, they had at last consented. And it didn't take a -witch-doctor to tell one that a twin-child should never be allowed to -live and work its demon spells in the world. Still they allowed her to -save some of them alive. It was said that prudent people had even gone -into the room where the rescued twins were kept and had touched them -without fear. They had been almost persuaded that those queerly born -babies were just like other children! - -The "White Mother" of Calabar always had a family of little black -waifs that she had rescued from violent death or neglect. Besides the -unfortunate twins, there were the children whose slave mothers had died -when they were tiny infants. "Nobody has time to bring up a child that -will belong to somebody else as soon as it is good for something," it -was said. So the motherless children were left in the bush to die. - -Mary Slessor loved her strange black brood tenderly. "Baby things are -always gentle and lovable," she used to say. "These children who have -had right training from the beginning will grow up to be leaders and -teachers of their people." - -For twelve years Miss Slessor worked in connection with the established -mission at Calabar, journeying about to outlying villages as the call -came. It had for long been her dream, however, to go still farther -inland to the wild Okoyong tribe whose very name was a terror -throughout the land. Her mother and her sister Janie, who together made -"home" for her, had died. - -"There is no one to write and tell all my stories and troubles and -nonsense to," she said. "But Heaven is now nearer to me than Britain, -and nobody will be anxious about me if I go up country." - -In King Eyo's royal canoe she made the journey to the strange people. -Leaving the paddlers, who were mortal enemies to the Okoyong tribe, at -the water's edge, she made her way along the jungle trail to a village -four miles inland. Here the people crowded about her greatly excited. -They called her "Mother," and seemed pleased that she had come to them -without fear. The chief, Edem, and his sister, Ma Eame, received her in -a friendly fashion. Her courage, frankness, and ready understanding won -favor from the beginning. - -"May I have ground for a schoolhouse and a home with you here?" she -asked. "Will you have me stay as your friend and help you as I have -helped the people of Calabar?" - -Eagerly they assented. It would be a fine thing to have a "White -Mother" in their country. - -"Will you grant that the house I build shall be a place of refuge for -those in distress--for those charged with witchcraft or threatened with -death for any other cause? Will you promise that they shall be safe with -me until we can consider together their case?" - -The people looked at the strange white woman wonderingly. Why should she -ask this thing? What difference could it make to her? - -"All life is precious," she said simply, as if she had read their -thoughts. "I am here to help you--to care for those who are sick or -hurt, and I must be allowed to see that each one who is in any sort of -trouble is treated fairly. Will you promise that my house shall be a -place of refuge?" - -Again they gravely assented. So, greatly encouraged, she returned to -Calabar to pack her goods and prepare to leave the old field for the new. - -All her friends gathered about her, loudly lamenting. She was surely -going to her death, they said. Her fellow workers regarded her with -wonder and pity. "Nothing can make any impression on the Okoyong save -a consul and a British gunboat," they declared. But Mary Slessor was -undaunted. She stowed her boxes and her little family of five small -waifs away in the canoe as happily as if she were starting out on a -pleasure trip. To a friend in Scotland, she wrote: - - I am going to a new tribe up-country, a fierce, cruel - people, and every one tells me that they will kill me. But I - don't fear any hurt--only to combat their savage customs will - require courage and firmness on my part. - -The life in Okoyong did indeed require fortitude and faith. Remote -from friends and helpers, in the midst of that most dreaded of all the -African tribes, she patiently worked to lighten the darkness of the -degraded people and make their lives happier and better. With her rare -gift of intuition she at once felt that Ma Eame, the chief's sister, had -a warm heart and a strong character. - -"She will be my chief ally," she said to herself, and time proved that -she was right. A spark in the black woman's soul was quickened by the -White Mother's flaming zeal. Dimly she felt the power of the new law -of love. Often at the risk of her life, should she be discovered, she -kept the missionary informed in regard to the movements of the people. -Whether it was a case of witchcraft or murder, of vengeance or a raid on -a neighboring tribe, "Ma" was sure to find it out; and her influence was -frequently strong enough to avert a tragedy. - -As at Calabar, she found that the greatest obstacle in the way of -progress was the general indulgence in rum, which the white people gave -the natives in exchange for their palm oil, spices, rubber, and other -products. - -"Do not drink the vile stuff--do not take it or sell it," she begged. -"It is like poison to your body. It burns out your life and heart and -brings every trouble upon you." - -"What for white man bring them rum suppose them rum no be good?" they -demanded. "He be god-man bring the rum--then what for god-man talk so?" - -What was there to say? With a heavy heart the White Mother struggled -on to help her people in spite of this great evil which men of the -Christian world had brought upon these weak, ignorant black children. -And she did make headway in spite of every discouragement. "I had a lump -in my throat often, and my courage repeatedly threatened to take wings -and fly away--though nobody guessed it," she said. - -For years this brave woman went on with her work among the wild tribes -of Nigeria. As soon as she began to get the encouragement of results -in one place she pressed on to an unworked field. Realizing that her -pioneer work needed to be reënforced and sustained by the strong arm -of the law, she persuaded the British Government to "take up the white -man's burden" and (through the influence of consuls and the persuasive -presence of a gunboat or two) assume the guardianship of her weak -children. In spite of failing health and the discouragement of small -results, she went from one post to another, leaving mission houses and -chapel-huts as outward signs of the new life to which she had been a -witness. "I am ready to go anywhere, provided it be forward," was her -watchword, as well as Dr. Livingstone's. - -There are many striking points of likeness between the careers of these -two torch-bearers to the Dark Continent. As children both had worked -at the loom, studying hungrily as they toiled. Both did pioneer work, -winning the confidence and love of the wild people they taught and -served. No missionary to Africa, save Dr. Livingstone alone, has had a -more powerful influence than Mary Slessor. - -When at last in January, 1915, after thirty-nine years of service, she -died and left to others the task of bearing on the torch to her people, -Sir Frederick Lugard, the Governor-General of Nigeria said: - -"By her enthusiasm, self-sacrifice, and greatness of character she has -earned the devotion of thousands of natives among whom she worked, and -the love and esteem of all Europeans, irrespective of class or creed, -with whom she came in contact." - -She was buried in the land to which she had given her long life of -service. At the grave when the women, after the native fashion, began -their wild wail of lament, one of them lifted up her voice in an exalted -appeal that went straight to the heart: - -"Do not cry, do not cry! Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Ma -was a great blessing." - -Of all the words of glowing tribute to her faithful work, we may be sure -that none would have meant more to the lowly missionary than this cry -from the awakened soul of one of her people of the bush. - - - - -THE HEROINE OF RADIUM: - -MARIE SKLODOWSKA CURIE - - - - - One truth discovered is immortal and entitles its author - to be so; for, like a new substance in nature, it cannot be - destroyed. - - HAZLITT. - - - - -THE HEROINE OF RADIUM - - -You would hardly think that a big, bare room, with rows of battered -benches and shelves and tables littered with all sorts of queer-looking -jars and bottles, could be a hiding-place for fairies. Yet Marie's -father, who was one of the wise men of Warsaw, said they were always to -be found there. - -"Yes, little daughter," he said, "the fairies you may chance to meet -with in the woods, peeping from behind trees and sleeping in flowers, -are a tricksy, uncertain sort. The real fairies, who do things, are to -be found in my dusty laboratory. They are the true wonder-workers, and -there you may really catch them at work and learn some of their secrets." - -"But, Father, wouldn't the fairies like it better if it wasn't quite so -dusty there?" asked the child. - -"No doubt of it," replied the professor. - -"We need one fairy more to put us to rights." - -At a time when most little girls are playing with dolls, Marie was -playing "fairy" in the big classroom, dusting the tables and shelves, -and washing the glass tubes and other things that her father used as he -talked to his students. "I think we might see the fairies better if I -make all these glasses clear and shiny," said Marie. - -"Can I trust your little fingers not to let things fall?" asked her -father. "Remember, my funny glasses are precious. It might cost us a -dinner if you should let one slip." - -The professor soon found that his little daughter never let anything -slip--either the things he used or the things he said. "Such a wise -little fairy and such a busy one!" he would say. "I don't know how we -could do our work without her." - -If Professor Ladislaus Sklodowski had not loved his laboratory teaching -above all else, he would have known that he was overworked. As it -was, he counted himself fortunate in being able to serve Truth and to -enlist others in her service. For the professor's zeal was of the kind -that kindles enthusiasm. If you had seen the faces of those Polish -students as they hung on his words and watched breathlessly the result -of an experiment, you would have known that they, too, believed in the -wonder-working fairies. - -It seems as if the Polish people have a greater love and understanding -of the unseen powers of the world than is given to many other nations. -If you read the story of Poland's tragic struggles against foes within -and without until, finally, the stronger surrounding countries--Germany, -Austria, and Russia--divided her territory as spoil among themselves -and she ceased to exist as a distinct nation, you will understand why -her children have sought refuge in the things of the spirit. They have -in a wonderful degree the courage that rises above the most unfriendly -circumstances and says: - - One day with life and heart - Is more than time enough to find a world. - -Some of them, like Chopin and Paderewski, have found a new world in -music; others have found it in poetry and romance; and still others -in science. The child who dreamed of fairies in her father's classroom -was to discover the greatest marvel of modern science--a discovery that -opened up a new world to the masters of physics and chemistry of our day. - -Marie's mother, who had herself been a teacher, died when the child was -very small; and so it happened that the busy father had to take sole -care of her and make the laboratory do duty as nursery and playroom. -It was not strange that the bright, thoughtful little girl learned to -love the things that were so dear to her father's heart. Would he not -rather buy things for his work than have meat for dinner? Did he not -wear the same shabby kaftan (the full Russian top-coat that looks like a -dressing-gown) year after year in order that he might have material for -important experiments? Truth was, indeed, more than meat and the love of -learning more than raiment in that home, and the little daughter drank -in his enthusiasm with the queer laboratory smells which were her native -air and the breath of life to her. - -The time came when the child had to leave this nursery to enter school, -but always, when the day's session was over, she went directly to that -other school where she listened fascinated to all her father taught -about the wonders of the inner world of atoms and the mysterious forces -that make the visible world in which we live. She still believed in -fairies,--oh, yes!--but now she knew their names. There were the rainbow -fairies--light-waves, that make all the colors we see,--and many -more our eyes are not able to discover, but which we can capture by -interesting experiments. There were sound-waves, too, and the marvelous -forces we call electricity, magnetism, and gravitation. When she was -nine years old, it was second nature to care for her father's batteries, -beakers, and retorts, and to help prepare the apparatus that was to be -used in the demonstrations of the coming day. The students marveled at -the child's skill and knowledge, and called her with admiring affection -"professorowna," (daughter-professor). - -There was a world besides the wonderland of the laboratory, of which -Marie was soon aware. This was the world of fear, where the powers of -Russia ruled. In 1861 the Poles had made a vain attempt to win their -independence, and when Marie was a little girl (she was born in 1867), -the authorities tried to stamp out any further sparks of possible -rebellion by adopting unusually harsh measures. It was a crime to speak -the Polish language in the schools and to talk of the old, happy days -when Poland was a nation. If any one was even suspected of looking -forward to a better time when the people would not be persecuted by the -police or forced to bribe unprincipled officials for a chance to conduct -their business without interference, he was carried off to the cruel, -yellow-walled prison near the citadel, and perhaps sent to a life of -exile in Siberia. Since knowledge means independent thought and capacity -for leadership, the high schools and universities were particularly -under suspicion. Years afterward, when Marie spoke of this reign of -terror, her eyes flashed and her lips were set in a thin white line. -Time did not make the memory less vivid. - -"Every corridor of my father's school had finger-posts pointing to -Siberia!" she declared dramatically. - -When Marie was sixteen, she graduated from the "gymnasium" for girls, -receiving a gold medal for excellence in mathematics and sciences. In -Russia, as in Germany, the gymnasium corresponds to our high school, but -also covers some of the work of the first two years of college. The name -gymnasium signifies a place where the mind is exercised and made strong -in preparation for the work of the universities. - -The position as governess to the daughters of a Russian nobleman was -offered to the brilliant girl with the sweet, serious eyes and gentle -voice. As it meant independence and a chance to travel and learn the -ways of the world, Marie agreed to undertake the work. - -Now, for the first time in her life, the young Polish girl knew work -that was not a labor of love. Her pupils cared nothing for the things -that meant everything to her. How they loved luxury and show and gay -chatter! How indifferent they were to truth that would make the world -wiser and happier. - -"How strangely you look, Mademoiselle Marie," said the little Countess -Olga one day, in the midst of her French lesson. "Your eyes seem to see -things far away." - -Marie was truly looking past her pupils, past the rich apartment, beyond -Russia, into the great world of opportunity for all earnest workers. She -had overheard something about another plot among the students of Warsaw, -and knew that some of her father's pupils had been put under arrest. - -"Suppose they should try to make me testify against my friends," said -the girl to herself. "I must leave Russia at once. My savings will -surely take me to Paris, and there I may get a place as helper in one of -the big laboratories, where I can learn as I work." - -The eyes that had been dark with fear an instant before became bright -with hope. Eagerly she planned a disguise and a way to slip off the very -next night while the household was in the midst of the excitement of a -masquerade ball. - -Everything went well, and in due time she found her trembling self -and her slender possessions safely stowed away on a train that was -moving rapidly toward the frontier and freedom. No one gave a second -thought to the little elderly woman with gray hair and spectacles who -sat staring out of the window of her compartment at the fields and -trees rushing by in the darkness and the starry heavens that the train -seemed to carry with it. Her plain, black dress and veil seemed those -of a self-respecting, upper-class servant, who was perhaps going to the -bedside of a dying son. - -"I feel almost as old as I look," Marie was saying to herself. "But -how can a girl who is all alone in the world, with no one to know what -happens to her, help feeling old? Down in my heart, though, I know that -life is just beginning. There is something waiting for me beyond the -blackness--something that needs just little me." - -It was a wonderful relief when the solitary journey was over and the -elderly disguise laid aside. "Shall I ever feel really young again?" -said the girl, who was not quite twenty-four. But not for a moment did -she doubt that there was work waiting for her in the big, unexplored -world. - -During those early days in Paris, Marie often had reason to be grateful -for the plain living of her childhood that had made her independent -of creature comforts. Now she knew actual want in her cold garret, -furnished only with a cot and chair, like a hermit's cell. She lived, -too, on hermit's fare--black bread and milk. But even when it was so -cold that the milk was frozen,--cold comfort, indeed!--the fire of her -enthusiasm knew no chill. Day after day she walked from laboratory to -laboratory begging to be given a chance as assistant, but always with -the same result. It was man's work; why did she not look for a place in -a milliner's shop? - -One day she renewed her appeal to Professor Lippman in the Sorbonne -research laboratories. Something in the still, pale face and deep-set, -earnest eyes caught the attention of the busy man. Perhaps this strange, -determined girl was starving! And besides, the crucibles and test-tubes -were truly in sad need of attention. Grudgingly he bade her clean the -various accessories and care for the furnace. Her deftness and skill -in handling the materials, and a practical suggestion that proved of -value in an important experiment, attracted the favorable notice of the -professor. He realized that the slight girl with the foreign look and -accent, whom he had taken in out of an impulse of pity, was likely to -become one of his most valuable helpers. - -A new day dawned for the ambitious young woman. While supporting herself -by her laboratory work, she completed in two years the university -course for a degree in mathematics, and, two years later, she won a -second degree in physics and chemistry. In the meantime her enthusiasm -for science and her undaunted courage in the face of difficulties and -discouragements attracted the admiration of a fellow-worker, Pierre -Curie, one of the most promising of the younger professors. - -"I love you, and we both love the same things," he said one day. "Would -it not be happier to live and work together than alone?" - -And so began that wonderful partnership of two great scientists, whose -hard work and heroic struggle, crowned at last by brilliant success, -has been an inspiration to earnest workers the world over. - -Madame Curie set up a little laboratory in their apartment, and toiled -over her experiments at all hours. Her baby daughter was often bathed -and dressed in this workroom among the test-tubes and the interesting -fumes of advanced research. - -"Irene is as happy in the atmosphere of science as her mother was," -said Madame Curie to one of her husband's brother-professors who seemed -surprised to find a crowing infant in a laboratory. "And if I could -afford the best possible nurse, she could not take my place! For my baby -and I know the joy of living and growing together with those we love." - -What was the problem that the mother was working over even while she -sewed for her little girl, or rocked her to sleep to the gentle crooning -of an old Polish folk-song whose melody Chopin has wrought into one of -his tenderest nocturnes? - -[Illustration: Marie Sklodowska Curie] - -The child who used to delight in experiments with light-waves in her -father's laboratory, was interested in the strange glow which Prof. -Becquerel had found that the substance known as uranium gave off -spontaneously. Like the X-rays, this light passes through wood and -other bodies opaque to sunlight. Madame Curie became deeply interested -in the problem of the nature of the Becquerel rays and their wonderful -properties, such as that of making the air a conductor for electricity. -One day she discovered that pitchblende, the black mineral from which -uranium is extracted, was more _radioactive_ (that is, it gave off more -powerful rays) than the isolated substance itself, and she came to the -conclusion that there was some other element in the ore which, could it -be extracted, would prove more valuable than uranium. - -With infinite patience and the skill of highly trained specialists in -both physics and chemistry, Madame Curie and her husband worked to -obtain this unknown substance. At times Pierre Curie all but lost heart -at the seemingly insurmountable obstacles in the way. "It cannot be -done!" he exclaimed one day, with a groan. "Truly, 'Nature has buried -Truth deep in the bottom of the sea.'" - -"But man can dive, _cher ami_," said his wife, with a heartening smile. -"Think of the joy when one comes up at last with the pearl--the pearl of -truth!" - -At last their toil was rewarded, and _two_ new elements were separated -from pitchblende--polonium, so named by Madame Curie in honor of her -native Poland, and radium, the most marvelous of all radioactive -substances. A tiny pinch of radium, which is a grayish white powder not -unlike coarse salt in appearance, gives out a strange glow something -like that of fireflies, but bright enough to read by. Moreover, light -and heat are radiated by this magic element with no apparent waste of -its own amount or energy. Radium can also make some other substances, -diamonds for instance, shine with a light like its own, and it makes -the air a conductor of electricity. Its weird glow passes through bone -almost as readily as through tissue-paper or through flesh, and it even -penetrates an inch-thick iron plate. - -The Curies now woke to find not only Paris but the world ringing with -the fame of their discovery. The modest workers wanted nothing, -however, but the chance to go on with their research. You know how -Tennyson makes the aged Ulysses look forward even at the end of his life -to one more last voyage. The type of the unconquerable human soul that -ever presses on to fresh achievement, he says: - - All experience is an arch where-thro' - Gleams that untravel'd world, whose margin fades - Forever and forever when I move. - -So it was with Pierre Curie and his wife. Their famous accomplishment -opened a new world of interesting possibilities, a world which they -longed above all things to explore. - -Their one trouble was the difficulty of procuring enough of the precious -element they had discovered to go on with their experiments. Because -radium is not only rare, but also exceedingly hard to extract from the -ore, it is a hundred times more precious than pure gold. It is said -that five tons of pitchblende were treated before a trifling pinch of -the magic powder was secured. It would take over two thousand tons of -the mineral to produce a pound of radium. Moreover, it was not easy to -secure the ore, as practically all the known mines were in Austria, and -those in control wanted to profit as much as possible by this chance. - -"It does seem as if people might not stand in the way of our obtaining -the necessary material to go on with our work," lamented Pierre Curie. -"What we discover belongs to the world--to any one who can use it." - -"We have passed other lions in the way. This, too, we shall pass," said -Madame Curie, quietly. - -They lived in a tiny house in an obscure suburb of Paris, giving -all that they possessed--the modest income gained from teaching and -lecturing, their share of the Nobel prize of $40,000, which, in 1903, -was divided between them and Professor Becquerel, together with all -their time and all their skill and knowledge, to their work. - -For recreation they went for walks in the country with little Irene, -often stopping for dinner at quaint inns among the trees. On one such -evening, when Dr. Curie had just declined the decoration of the Legion -of Honor, because it had "no bearing on his work," his small daughter -climbed on his knee and slipped a red geranium into his buttonhole, -saying, with comical solemnity: "You are now decorated with the Legion -of Honor. Pray, Monsieur, what do you intend to do about it?" - -"I like this emblem much better than a glittering star on a bit of red -ribbon, and I love the hand that put it there," replied the father, his -face lighting up with one of his rare smiles. "In this case I make no -objection." - -Other honors, which meant increased opportunity for work, were quietly -accepted. Pierre Curie was elected to the French Academy--the greatest -honor his country can bestow on her men of genius and achievement. -Madame Curie received the degree of Doctor of Physical Science, and--a -distinction shared with no other woman--the position of special lecturer -at the Sorbonne, in Paris. - -One day in 1906, when Dr. Curie, his mind intent on an absorbing -problem, was absent-mindedly hurrying across a wet street, he slipped -and fell under a passing truck and was instantly killed. When they -attempted to break the news to Madame Curie by telling her that her -husband had been hurt in an accident, she looked past them with a white, -set face, and repeated over and over to herself, as if trying to get her -bearings in the new existence that stretched blackly before her, "Pierre -is dead; Pierre is dead." - -Now, as on that night when she was leaving Russia for an unknown world, -she saw a gleam in the blackness--there was work to be done! There was -something waiting in the shadowy future for her, something that she -alone could do. As on that other night, she found her lips shaping the -words: "The big world has need of little me. But oh, it will be hard now -to work alone!" Then her eyes fell on her two little girls (Irene was -now eight years old and baby Eve was three), who were standing quietly -near with big, wondering eyes fixed on their mother's strange face. - -"Forgive me, darlings!" she cried, gathering her children into her arms. -"We must try hard to go on with the work Father loved. _Together_ is a -magic word for us still, little daughters!" - -Everybody wondered at the courage and quiet power with which Madame -Curie went out to meet her new life. She succeeded to her husband's -professorship, and carried on his special lines of investigation as -well as her own. The value of her work to science and to humanity may -be indicated by the fact that in 1911 the Nobel prize was again awarded -to her--the only time it has ever been given more than once to the same -person. - -At home, she tried to be father as well as mother. She took the -children for walks in the evening, and while she sewed on their dresses -and knitted them mittens and mufflers, she told them stories of the -wonderland of science. - -"Why do you take time to write down everything you do?" asked Eve one -day, as she looked over her mother's shoulder at the neat note-book in -which the world-famous scientist was summing up the work of the day. - -"Why does a seaman keep a log, dearie?" the mother questioned with a -smile. "A laboratory is just like a ship, and I want things shipshape. -Every day with me is like a voyage--a voyage of discovery." - -"But why do you put question marks everywhere, Mother!" persisted the -child. - -It was true that the pages fairly bristled with interrogation points. -Madame Curie laughed as if she had never noticed this before. "It -is good to have an inquiring mind, child," she said. "I am like my -children; I love to ask questions. And when one gets an answer,--when -you really discover something,--it only leads to more questions; and so -we go on from one thing to another." - -When Madame Curie was asked on one occasion to what she attributed her -success, she replied, without hesitation: "To my excellent training: -first, under my father, who taught me to wonder and to test; second, -under my husband, who understood and encouraged me; and third, under my -children, who question me!" - -[Illustration: Madame and Dr. Curie and their little daughter Irene] - -It is the day of one of Madame Curie's lectures. The dignified halls of -the university are a-flutter with many visitors from the world of wealth -and fashion. There, too, are distinguished scientists from abroad, among -whom are Lord Kelvin, Sir Oliver Lodge, and Sir William Ramsay. The -President of France and his wife enter with royal guests, Don Carlos -and Queen Amélie of Portugal, and the Shah of Persia. The plodding -students and the sober men of learning, ranged about the hall, blink at -the brilliant company like owls suddenly brought into the sunlight. - -At a given moment the hum of conversation dies away and the assemblage -rises to its feet as a little black-robed figure steps in and stands -before them on the platform. There is an instant's stillness,--a hush -of indrawn breath you can almost hear,--and then the audience gives -expression to its enthusiasm in a sudden roar of applause. The little -woman lifts up her hand pleadingly. All is still again and she begins to -speak. - -She is slight, almost pathetically frail, this queen of science. You -feel as if all her life had gone into her work. Her face is pale, and -her hair is only a shadow above her serious brow. But the deep-set eyes -glow, and the quiet voice somehow holds the attention of those least -concerned with the problems of advanced physics. - -Bank and wealth mean nothing to this little black-robed professor. It -is said that when she was requested by the president to give a special -demonstration of radium and its marvels before the Shah of Persia, -she amazed his Serene Highness by showing much more concern for her -tiny tube of white powder than for his distinguished favor. When the -royal guest, who had never felt any particular need of exercising -self-control, saw the uncanny light that was able to pass through plates -of iron, he gave a startled exclamation and made a sudden movement that -tipped over the scientist's material. Now it was the Lady Professor's -turn to be alarmed. To pacify her, the Shah held out a costly ring from -his royal finger, but this extraordinary woman with the pale face paid -not the slightest attention; she could not be bribed to forget the peril -of her precious radium. It is to be doubted if the eastern potentate had -ever before been treated with such scant ceremony. - -In 1911, Madame Curie's name was proposed for election to the Academy -of Sciences. While it was admitted that her rivals for the vacancy were -below her in merit, she failed of being elected by two votes. There was -a general protest, since it was felt that service of the first order -had gone unrecognized merely because the candidate happened to be a -woman. It was stated, however, that Madame Curie was not rejected for -this reason, but because it was thought wise to appoint to that vacancy -Professor Branly, who had given Marconi valuable aid in his invention -of wireless telegraphy, and who, since he was then an old man, would -probably not have another chance for the honor. As Madame Curie, on -the other hand, was only forty-three, she could well wait for another -vacancy. - -Since the outbreak of the present war the world has heard nothing new -of the work of the Heroine of Radium. We do not doubt, however, that -like all the women of France and all her men of science, she is giving -her strength and knowledge to the utmost in the service of her adopted -country. But we know, also, that just as surely she is seeing the pure -light of truth shining through the blackness, and that she is "following -the gleam." When the clouds of war shall have cleared away, we may see -that her labors now, as in the past, have not only been of service to -her country, but also to humanity. For Truth knows no boundaries of -nation or race, and he who serves Truth serves all men. - - - - -THE HEART OF HULL-HOUSE: - -JANE ADDAMS - - - - - The Russian peasants have a proverb that says: "Labor is - the house that Love lives in"; by which they mean that no two - people, or group of people, can come into affectionate relation - with each other unless they carry on a mutual task. - - JANE ADDAMS. - - - - -THE HEART OF HULL-HOUSE - - -Do you remember what the poet says of Peter Bell? - - At noon, when by the forest's edge - He lay beneath the branches high, - The soft blue sky did never melt - Into his heart: he never felt - The witchery of the soft blue sky! - -In the same way, when he saw the "primrose by the river's brim," it was -not to him a lovely bit of the miracle of upspringing life from the -unthinking clod; it was just a common little yellow flower, which one -might idly pick and cast aside, but to which one never gave a thought. -He saw the sky and woods and fields and human faces with the outward -eye, but not with the eye of the heart or the spirit. He had eyes for -nothing but the shell and show of things. - -This is the story of a girl who early learned to see with the "inward -eye"; she "felt the witchery of the soft blue sky" and all the wonder -of the changing earth, and something of the life about her melted -into her heart and became part of herself. So it was that she came to -have a "belonging feeling" for all that she saw--fields, pine woods, -mill-stream, birds, trees, and people. - -Perhaps little Jane Addams loved trees and people best of all. Trees -were so big and true, with roots ever seeking a firmer hold on the good -brown earth, and branches growing up and ever up, year by year, turning -sunbeams into strength. And people she loved, because they had in them -something of all kinds of life. - -There was one special tree that had the friendliest nooks where she -could nestle and dream and plan plays as long as the summer afternoon. -Perhaps one reason that Jane loved this tree was that it reminded her of -her tall, splendid father. - -[Illustration: Jane Addams] - -"You are so big and beautiful, and yet you always have a place for -a little girl--even one who can never be straight and strong," Jane -whispered, as she put her arms about her tree friend. And when she crept -into the shelter of her father's arms, she forgot her poor back, that -made her carry her head weakly on one side when she longed to fling -it back and look the world in the face squarely, exultingly, as her -father's daughter should. - -"There is no one so fine or so noble as my father," Jane would say to -herself as she saw him standing before his Bible-class on Sundays. Then -her cheek paled, and her big eyes grew wistful. It would be too bad if -people discovered that this frail child belonged to him. They would be -surprised and pity him, and one must never pity Father. So it came about -that, though it was her dearest joy to walk by his side clinging to his -hand, she stepped over to her uncle, saying timidly, "May I walk with -you, Uncle James?" - -This happened again and again, to the mild astonishment of the good -uncle. At last a day came that made everything different. Jane, who had -gone to town unexpectedly, chanced to meet her father coming out of a -bank on the main street. Smiling gaily and raising his shining silk -hat, he bowed low, as if he were greeting a princess; and as the shy -child smiled back she knew that she had been a very foolish little girl -indeed. Why of course! Her father made everything that belonged to him -all right just because it _did_ belong. He had strength and power enough -for them both. As she walked by his side after that, it seemed as if the -big grasp of the hand that held hers enfolded all the little tremblings -of her days. - -"What are these funny red and purple specks?" Jane asked once as she -looked with loving admiration at the hand to which she clung. - -"Those marks show that I've dressed millstones in my time, just as this -flat right thumb tells any one who happens to notice that I began life -as a miller," said her father. - -After that Jane spent much time at the mill industriously rubbing the -ground wheat between thumb and forefinger; and when the millstones -were being dressed, she eagerly held out her little hands in the hope -that the bits of flying flint would mark her as they had her father. -These marks, she dimly felt, were an outward sign of her father's true -greatness. He was a leading citizen of their Illinois community by -right of character and hard-won success. Everybody admired and honored -him. Did not President Lincoln even, who was, her father said, "the -greatest man in the world," write to him as a comrade and brother, -calling him "My dear Double D'ed Addams"? - -Years afterward, when Jane Addams spoke of her childhood, she said that -all her early experiences were directly connected with her father, and -that two incidents stood out with the distinctness of vivid pictures. - -She stood, one Sunday morning, in proud possession of a beautiful new -cloak, waiting for her father's approval. He looked at her a moment -quietly, and then patted her on the shoulder. - -"Thy cloak is very pretty, Jane," said the Quaker father, gravely; "so -much prettier, indeed, than that of the other little girls that I think -thee had better wear thy old one." Then he added, as he looked into her -puzzled, disappointed eyes, "We can never, perhaps, make such things as -clothes quite fair and right in this hill-and-valley world, but it is -wrong and stupid to let the differences crop out in things that mean so -much more; in school and church, at least, people should be able to feel -that they belong to one family." - -Another day she had gone with her father on an errand into the poorest -quarter of the town. It had always before seemed to her country eyes -that the city was a dazzling place of toy- and candy-shops, smooth -streets, and contented houses with sleek lawns. Now she caught a glimpse -of quite another city, with ugly, dingy houses huddled close together -and thin, dirty children standing miserably about without place or -spirit to play. - -"It is dreadful the way all the comfortable, happy people stay off to -themselves," said Jane. "When I grow up, I shall, of course, have a big -house, but it is not going to be set apart with all the other big homes; -it is going to be right down among the poor horrid little houses like -these." - -Always after that, when Jane roamed over her prairie playground or -sat dreaming under the Norway pines which had grown from seeds that -her father had scattered in his early, pioneer days, she seemed to -hear something of "the still, sad music of humanity" in the voice of -the wind in the tree-tops and in the harmony of her life of varied -interests. For she saw with the inward eye of the heart, and felt the -throb of all life in each vital experience that was hers. It would be -impossible to live apart in pleasant places, enjoying beauty which -others might not share. She must live in the midst of the crowded ways, -and bring to the poor, stifled little houses an ideal of healthier -living. She would study medicine and go as a doctor to the forlorn, -dirty children; but first there would be many things to learn. - -It was her dream to go to Smith College, but her father believed that a -small college near her home better fitted one for the life to which she -belonged. - -"My daughter is also a daughter of Illinois," he said, "and Rockford -College is her proper place. Afterward she may go east and to Europe in -order to gain a knowledge of what the world beyond us can give, and so -get a fuller appreciation of what life at home is and may be." - -Jane Addams went, therefore, to the Illinois college, "The Mt. Holyoke -of the West," a college famed for its earnest, missionary spirit. The -serious temper of her class was reflected in their motto which was the -Anglo-Saxon word for lady--_hláfdige_ (bread-kneader), translated as -_bread-giver_; and the poppy was selected for the class flower, "because -poppies grow among the wheat, as if Nature knew that wherever there was -hunger that needed food there would be pain that needed relief." - -The study in which she took the keenest interest was history,--"the -human tale of this wide world,"--but even at the time of her greatest -enthusiasm she realized that while knowledge comes from the records of -the past, wisdom comes from a right understanding of the actual life of -the present. - -After receiving from her Alma Mater the degree of B. A., she entered -the Woman's Medical College in Philadelphia to prepare for real work in -a real world, but the old spinal trouble soon brought that chapter to -a close. After some months in Doctor Weir Mitchell's hospital, and a -longer time of invalidism, she agreed to follow her doctor's pleasant -prescription of two years in Europe. - -"When I returned I decided to give up my medical course," said Jane -Addams, "partly because I had no real aptitude for scientific work, and -partly because I discovered that there were other genuine reasons for -living among the poor than that of practicing medicine upon them." - -While in London Miss Addams saw much of the life of the great city from -the top of an omnibus. Once she was taken with a number of tourists to -see the spectacle of the Saturday night auction of fruits and vegetables -to the poor of the East Side, and the lurid picture blotted out all the -picturesque impressions, full of pleasant human interest and historic -association, that she had been eagerly enjoying during this first visit -to London town. Always afterwards, when she closed her eyes, she could -see the scene; it seemed as if it would never leave her. In the flare of -the gas-light, which made weird and spectral the motley, jostling crowd -and touched the black shadows it created into a grotesque semblance of -life, she saw wrinkled women, desperate-looking men, and pale children -vying with each other to secure with their farthings and ha'pennies the -vegetables held up by a hoarse, red-faced auctioneer. - -One haggard youth sat on the curb, hungrily devouring the cabbage that -he had succeeded in bidding in. Her sensation-loving companions on the -bus stared with mingled pity and disgust; but the girl who saw what she -looked on with the inward eye of the heart turned away her face. The -poverty that she had before seen had not prepared her for wretchedness -like this. - -"For the following weeks," she said, "I went about London furtively, -afraid to look down narrow streets and alleys lest they disclose this -hideous human need and suffering. In time, nothing of the great city -seemed real save the misery of its East End." - -[Illustration: Polk Street façade of Hull-House buildings] - -[Illustration: A corner of the Boys' Library at Hull-House] - -This first impression of London's poverty was, of course, not only -lurid, but quite unfair. She knew nothing of the earnest workers who -were devoting their lives to the problem of giving the right kind of -help to those who, through weakness, ignorance, or misfortune, were -not able to help themselves. - -When, five years later, she visited Toynbee Hall, she saw effective -work of the kind she had dimly dreamed of ever since, as a little -girl, she had wanted to build a beautiful big house among the ugly -little ones in the city. Here in the heart of the Whitechapel district, -the most evil and unhappy section of London's East End, a group of -optimistic, large-hearted young men, who believed that advantages mean -responsibilities, had come to live and work. While trying to share what -good birth, breeding, and education had given them with those who had -been shut away from every chance for wholesome living, they believed -that they in turn might learn from their humble neighbors much that -universities and books cannot teach. - -"I have spent too much time in vague preparation for I knew not what," -said Jane Addams. "At last I see a way to begin to live in a really real -world, and to learn to do by doing." - -And so Hull-House was born. In the heart of the industrial section of -Chicago, where workers of thirty-six different nations live closely -herded together, Miss Addams found surviving a solidly built house with -large halls, open fireplaces, and friendly piazzas. This she secured, -repaired, and adapted to the needs of her work, naming it Hull-House -from its original owner, one of Chicago's early citizens. - -"But we must not forget that the house is only the outward sign," said -Miss Addams. "The real thing is the work. 'Labor is the house that love -lives in,' and as we work together we shall come to understand each -other and learn from each other." - -"What are you going to put in your house for your interesting -experiment?" Miss Addams was asked. - -"Just what I should want in my home anywhere--even in your perfectly -correct neighborhood," she replied with a smile. - -You can imagine the beautiful, restful place it was, with everything in -keeping with the fine old house. On every side were pictures and other -interesting things that she had gathered in her travels. - -Of course, Miss Addams was not alone in her work. Her friend, Ellen -Gates Starr, was with her from the beginning. Miss Julia Lathrop, who -is now the head of the Children's Bureau in Washington, was another -fellow-worker. Soon many volunteers came eagerly forward, some to teach -the kindergarten, others to take charge of classes and clubs of various -kinds. They began by teaching different kinds of hand-work, which then -had no place in the public schools. - -"One little chap, who was brought into the Juvenile Court the other day -for breaking a window, confessed to the judge that he had thrown the -stone 'a-purpose to get pinched,' so they would send him to a school -where 'they learn a fellow to make things,'" Miss Addams was told. - -Classes in woodwork, basketry, sewing, weaving, and other handicrafts -were eagerly patronized. There were also evening clubs where boys and -girls who had early left school to work in factories could learn to make -things of practical value or listen to reading and the spirited telling -of the great world-stories. - -One day Miss Addams met a small newsboy as he hastily left the house, -vainly trying to keep back signs of grief. "There is no use of coming -here any more," he said gruffly; "Prince Roland is dead!" - -The evening classes were also social clubs, where the children who -seemed to be growing dull and unfeeling like the turning wheels among -which they spent their days could relax their souls and bodies in free, -happy companionship and get a taste of natural living. - -"Young people need pleasure as truly as they need food and air," said -Miss Addams. "When I see the throngs of factory-girls on our streets in -the evening, it seems to me that the pitiless city sees in them just two -possibilities: first, the chance to use their tender labor-power by day, -and then the chance to take from them their little earnings at night by -appealing to their need of pleasure." - -One of the new buildings that was early added to the original Hull-House -was a gymnasium, which provided opportunities for swimming, basket-ball, -and dancing. - -"We have swell times in our Hull-House club," boasted black-eyed -Angelina. "Our floor in the gym puts it all over the old dancehalls for -a jolly good hop,--no saloon next door with all that crowd, good classy -music, and the right sort of girls and fellows. Then sometimes our club -has a real party in the coffeehouse. That's what I call a fine, cozy -time; makes a girl glad she's living." - -Hull-House also puts within the reach of many the things which their -active minds crave, and opens the way to a new life and success in the -world. - -"Don't you remember me?" a rising young newspaper man once said to Miss -Addams. "I used to belong to a Hull-House club." - -"Tell me what Hull-House did for you that really helped," she took -occasion to ask. - -"It was the first house I had ever been in," he replied promptly, "where -books and magazines just lay around as if there were plenty of them in -the world. Don't you remember how much I used to read at that little -round table at the back of the library?" - -Some good people who visit the Settlement in a patronizing mood are -surprised to discover that many of "these working-girls" have a taste -for what is fine. Miss Addams likes to tell them about the intelligent -group who followed the reading of George Eliot's "Romola" with -unflagging interest. - -"The club was held in our dining-room," she said to one incredulous -visitor, "and two of the girls came early regularly to help wash the -dishes and arrange the photographs of Florence on the table. Do you -know," she added, looking her prosperous guest quietly in the eyes, -"that the young woman of whom you were inquiring about 'these people' -is one of our neighborhood girls? Those who live in these dingy streets -because they are poor and must live near their work are not a different -order of beings. Don't forget what Lincoln said, 'God must love the -common people--He made so many of them.' You have only to live at -Hull-House a while to learn how true it is that God loves them." - -"Nothing has ever meant more real inspiration to me," said a student of -sociology from the university, who had spent a year in the Settlement, -"than the way the poor help each other. A woman who supports three -children by scrubbing will share her breakfast with the people in the -next tenement because she has heard that they are 'hard up'; a man who -has been out of work has a month's rent paid by a young chap in the -stock-yards who boarded with him last year; a Swedish girl works in -the laundry for her German neighbor to let her stay home with her sick -baby--and so it goes." - -"Our people have, too, many other hardships besides the frequent lack -of food and fuel," said Miss Addams. "There are other hungers. Do you -know what it means for the Italian peasant, used to an outdoor life in -a sunny, easy-going land, to adapt himself to the ways of America? It -is a very dark, shut-in Chicago that many of them know. At one of the -receptions here an Italian woman who was delighted with our red roses -was also surprised that they could be 'brought so fresh all the way from -Italy.' She would not believe that roses grew in Chicago, because she -had lived here six years and had never seen any. One always saw roses -in Italy. Think of it! She had lived for six years within ten blocks of -florists' shops, but had never seen one!" - -"Yes," said Miss Starr, "they lose the beauties and joys of their old -homes before they learn what the new can give. When we had our first art -exhibit, an Italian said that he didn't know that Americans cared for -anything but dollars--that looking at pictures was something people did -only in Italy." - -A Greek was overjoyed at seeing a photograph of the Acropolis at -Hull-House. He said that before he came to America he had prepared a -book of pictures in color of Athens, because he thought that people -in the new country would like to see them. At his stand near a big -railroad-station he had tried to talk to some of those who stopped -to buy about "the glory that was Greece," but he had concluded that -Americans cared for nothing but fruit and the correct change! - -At Hull-House the Greeks, Italians, Poles, and Germans not only find -pictures which quicken early memories and affections, but they can give -plays of their own country and people. The "Ajax" and "Electra" of -Sophocles have been presented by Greeks, who felt that they were showing -ignorant Americans the majesty of the classic drama. Thanksgiving, -Christmas, and other holidays are celebrated by plays and pageants. Nor -are the great days of other lands forgotten. Garibaldi and Mazzini, who -fought for liberty in Italy, are honored with Washington and Lincoln. - -Old and young alike take part in the dramatic events. A blind patriarch, -who appeared in Longfellow's "Golden Legend," which was presented one -Christmas, spoke to Miss Addams of his great joy in the work. - -"Kind Heart," he said (that was his name for her),--"Kind Heart, it -seems to me that I have been waiting all my life to hear some of these -things said. I am glad we had so many performances, for I think I can -remember them to the end. It is getting very hard for me to listen to -reading, but the different voices and all made this very plain." - -The music classes and choruses give much joy to the people, and here -it seems possible to bring together in a common feeling those widely -separated by tradition and custom. Music is the universal language of -the heart. Bohemian and Polish women sing their tender and stirring -folk-songs. The voices of men and women of many lands mingle in -Schubert's lovely melodies and in the mighty choruses of Handel. - -As Miss Addams went about among her neighbors she longed to lead them to -a perception of the relation between the present and the past. If only -the young, who were impatiently breaking away from all the old country -traditions, could be made to appreciate what their parents held dear; if -the fathers and mothers could at the same time understand the complex -new order in which their children were struggling to hold their own. -When, one day, she saw an old Italian woman spinning with distaff and -spindle, an idea came to her. A Labor Museum, that would show the growth -of industries in every country, from the simplest processes to the -elaborate machinery of modern times, might serve the purpose. - -The working-out of her plan far exceeded her wildest dream. Russians, -Germans, and Italians happily foregathered to demonstrate and compare -methods of textile work with which they were familiar. Other activities -proved equally interesting. The lectures given among the various -exhibits met with a warm welcome. Factory workers, who had previously -fought shy of everything "improving," came because they said these -lectures were "getting next to the stuff you work with all the time." - -Hull-House has worked not only _with_ the people but _for_ them, by -trying to secure laws that will improve the conditions under which they -labor and live. The following incident will speak for the fight that -Miss Addams has made against such evils as child labor and sweat-shop -work. - -The representatives of a group of manufacturers waited upon her and -promised that if she would "drop all this nonsense about a sweat-shop -bill of which she knew nothing," certain business men would give fifty -thousand dollars for her Settlement. The steady look which the lady of -Hull-House gave the spokesman made him wish that some one else had come -with the offer of the bribe. - -"We have no ambition," said Miss Addams, "to make Hull-House the largest -institution in Chicago; but we are trying to protect our neighbors from -evil conditions; and if to do that, the destruction of our Settlement -should be necessary, we would gladly sing a Te Deum on its ruins." - -The girl who saw what she looked on with "the eye of the heart," had -become a leader in the life and the reforms of her time. "On the whole," -one writer has said of her, "the reach of this woman's sympathy and -understanding is beyond all comparison wider in its span--comprehending -all kinds of people--than that of any other living person." - -Jane Addams has won her great influence with people by the simple means -of working with them. Her life and the true Hull-House--the work itself, -not the buildings which shelter it--give meaning to the saying that -"Labor is the house that love lives in." - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - -Simple typographical errors were corrected. - -Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant -preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. - -This book contains double quotation marks within double quotation marks. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Heroines of Service, by Mary Rosetta Parkman - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEROINES OF SERVICE *** - -***** This file should be named 42451-8.txt or 42451-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/4/5/42451/ - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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