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SEPTEMBER, 1904.
For Woman’s Work.
L®VE DS TME SME’
TT OVE is the same forever! Fresh and sweet
U-<7 Is every blossom in his dimpled hands,
And new and dear are his old commands
Tho’ centuries their cadences repeat.
Our hearts lie low — a pathway for his feet—
As long ago did hearts in other lands;
Our light in life, and hope in death, he stands
The ever smiling one, for all to meet!
Love is the same forever! On his breast
The precious jewels of our tears lie bright,
And in his eyes our smiles are prison’d, prest
Like everlasting flowers of delight!
Love is the same forever, t.ho’ through tears
We only see him smiling in lost years!
Etta Wallace Miller.
For Woman's Work.
the caye mysterious,
MY MOTHER is not one of the so
called “new women”—neither am
J, as to that matter!—and she strenuously
opposed my donning bloomers; but I in
sisted that in that out-of-way, backwoods
county, Buckingham, where I was not
known, and where I would meet scarcely
half a dozen people during a day’s ride,
there could be no possible impropriety in
my wearing them. So when we, the dis
tinguished Conway family, left the city in
the early summer for a three months' so
journ in the country, the last thing I did
was to see that my bloomers were safely
packed in a snug little corner in my trunk.
The first thing on arriving at my board
ing place, was to inquire if it were safe for
a young lady to travel about alone. On
being informed that there was no possible
danger, that there were no tramps, rattle
snakes nor mad dogs, the next morning
after my arrival I mounted my wheel, all
the while listening to mother (who was
standing in the doorway) cautioning
me not to venture far, for fear of get
ting lost, and telling me to return within
an hour or two, at the longest.
The morning was ore of the most de
lightful I have ever spent. I never knew
be'ore that white honeysuckle groys wild
in Virginia. Here it grew and blossomed
in profusion. The fences were lined with
it, and one long hedgerow was covered
with it for a mile. The air was redolent
with perfume; the birds sang sweeter songs
than I had heard before, and the sun shone
brighter, even the air seemed balmier than
I bad ever known it to be. Altogether I
was happy, entrancedl
I spun on and on, not knowing or car
ing where I went. For several months
past I had been vexing my brain with
scientific subjects which my mother con
sidered, to say the least, unhealthy, advis
ing me to think no more of the whys and
wherefores of Psychology and the relations
of mind to matter. I was trying to follow
her advice,but alas! there were some things
which would force themselves into my
thoughts, and, as usual, I began to reason
out what seemed to me one of the most
difficult problems of life. Still I spun on
and on. After a while I noticed that the
road was becoming rougher, that it was
full of stones, and that I was beginning to
feel fatigued. I dismounted, sat down on
a stone by the roadside, and looked about
me. Just ahead,only a few rods distant,
rose a small mountain, and L began to feel
a desire to climb it: then I resolved to
do so as soon as I had rested sufficiently.
I took out my lunch and ate a very hearty
meal, as the sun and my appetite told me
that it was about noon. Then I think I
must have fallen asleep, for suddenly I was
surprised by a rather rude shake of my
shoulder, as a croaking voice said:
‘•For heaven’s sake, get up and get un
der shelter; a most terrible storm is com
ing on!”
Arising quickly, I followed that which
seemed mere a witch than anything else I
can imagine, on across the rocks towards
an opening in the mountain side; by this
time the heavens were covered over with
ragged patches of black clouds, and the
wind was blowing furiously. The light- ‘
ning flashed and the roar of thunder was
always incessant. Dragging my wheel
along, I followed the old woman—a veri
table personification of Bulwer-.Lytton's
witch of Vesuvius.
We entered the cave together, and
she pointed to a seat of rough boards near
the opening which served as a door. I sat
down and looked about me. In the semi
darkness I could not at first distinguish
anything except the old woman herself,
who, strange to say, sh> ne out distinct and
clear. She paid no more attention to me,
but seated herself on another bench and
began to mumble to herself. All that I
could understand was: “According to
Keely there are seven kinds of vibration,
atomic, molecular—” I tried to catch her
words but failed to do so, as she spoke
rapidly and in a low tone. All at once
she sprang to her feet, touched a screw
above her head, and, to my astonishment,
the entire cave was lighted by electricity.
I have a*vague recollection of wondering
if she were possessed of the miraculous
power of utilizing the natural fluid which
was playing the wilds on the outside at
that very moment.
She turned and gazed at me a moment
and said: “You are a beautiful boy! But
what makes you drees so?’’
I now noticed that the cave was fitted
up as a laboratory, and apparatus of every
description filled the shelves which lined
the cave. Hundreds of crucibles filled
with liquids of every color were about, yet
everything seemed as orderly and precisely
placed as in the finest of laboratories. The
glass was bright and shining, indicating
that all was in constant use. [ was filled
with wonder and astonishment, for there
was something new and strange about it
all. A jointed skeleton was suspended
from the top of the cave; it dangled and
clanked its osseous limbs together with
every little gust of wind from the outside,
and seemed to be reaching out to clutch
me by the hair, and yet I was not afraid.
It was only now and then that a strange
thrill of horror or revulsion ran down my
spinal column and made me tremble.
I half arose and looked at the strange
conglomeration about me. I must have
shown in my face considerable curiositv,
tor the old hag laughed and said: “I’ll
tell you everything, boy, if you will allow
me to experiment on you for half an hour.”
I did not object to being called a boy, but
I had my misgivings about her experi
ments, and replied that I should first like
to know what kind of experiments she
wished to make.
“O, on your brain,” she said.
“On my brain,’’ I said in consternation.
“Yes,” she cackled, ‘ but 1 won t take it
out to do it: I only want to read your
mind.”
“How will you do it?” I asked:
She began to look frightful, and croaked
out: “O, don’t ask so many questions, but
do as I tell you, and I promise you I will
not hurt you in any way in the world.
Do you consent?”
“How do I know that you are telling
me the truth?” I faltered. She arose and
placed in my hand a curious little dagger.
“Now,” she said with a grin, “if I hurt
you in the least, run this through my
heart.”
A confused fear of being hypnotized
filled me with horror, and it was with dif
ficulty that I stammered out: “I cannot
consent to any such proposition.”
She sat silent for a minute, and then
arose slowly and came nearer to me. “Per
haps you will let me when I tell you my
story,” she said.
Her eyes shone in the brilliant light like
those of a cat, and I felt just as I imagine
the belated guest in Coleridge’s noted
poem felt when the ancient mariner by his
mesmeric power held him spellbound, and
he cried out in agony:
“I fear thee, ancient mariner,
I fear thy skinny hand.”
I could but listen to the old woman, and
this is what she told: “Once upon a time
I was ycung and beautiful, beautiful, do
you hear?” and she shook me.
WOMAN’S WORK.
“I had home, friends and money, I had
everything heart could wish except one
thing, and that one thing I craved more
than all else besides—knowledgel Not a
little smattering of music, art and litera
ture, that the young ladies of those days
were allowed to have, but real, lasting,
scientific knowledge in its truest and broad
est sense. I longed to understand as
tronomy so well that I would know before
hand when a new world should be created.
I longed to be able to solve the most
abstruse problems in the highest forms of
mathematics! I prayed that I might be
so familiar with all psychological ques
tions that the greatest and wisest should
come to me for information. Boy,” she
said fiercely, “do you oppose higher edu
cation of women?"
“No,” I answered faintly.
“Well,” she said, “most men do, and
that’s what blighted my life. I wanted
knowledge, I hungered and thirsted for it.
I craved it as an opium fiend craves the
deadly drug. But did I get it? From the
source I expected, no! no! NO!” she
screamed.
“I applied for admission to ten of the
highest universities and colleges in Amer
ica, and did they allow me to enter? No!
Co-education at that time was only a
name. I plead; I prayed; I used every
argument in my power. I offered bribery
—everything I possessed—for the knowl
edge I craved, but all to no avail. I had
the spirit of the devil. 1 was maddened.
I swore that knowledge should be mine,
but that I would never ask another man
to help me in my work. No living being
can conceive of my intense hatred for
men: I loathe them from the depth of my
soul! Now,boy, I will break my rash vow
and ask you— you, a boy—once more to
allow me to look into your mind.”
She paused and smiled, and her face soft
ened as I did not think it p issibie that it
could do, as she awaited my reply. “Let
me explain,” I faltered.
“No,” replied she hotly, “don’t explain
anything. I want to read for myself.”
“Will you promise that you will not
hurt me?” I tremblingly asked.
“Haven't I already done so a dozen
times? I don’t want to hurt you. Have
you ever heard of such a thing as honor
among thieves? Well, lam not a thief;
but I have honor. When the old witch,
Mordo, as I am called, gives her word to
a fellow being, she would die before she
would break that word. Will you trust
me?’’ she asked.
“Yes,” I cried, for now I knew I must.
She leaped to her feet, a new creature; her
eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed. She
grew young again. I leaned back, half
unconscious, and watched her as she made
her mysterious preparations. In less than
five minutes she resumed her seat in front
of me. In her hands she held something
which had become very familiar to me
within the past year or two—some of
Professor Roentgen’s X-ray photographs.
She laughed in great glee.
“See here,” she said, “I know something
about the X-rays; this should have been
my discovery, but, as I told you, the men
wouldn’t let me have the use of their ap
paratus and I had to accumulate my own,
which has caused me to waste so much
valuable time that I must use his discov
ery in connection with mine. For a long
time I have known how to read the hiero
glyphics on a dead man’s brain. Many a
dead body have I dragged from the grave
in order to study the brain, and to read
the mortal life. Did you ever hear of the
robbery of the body of a very rich man in
one of our large cities some years ago?
Ah! I stole that body! So you see lam a
thief, after all. The world thought 1 want
ed the reward. That was not it. I wanted
knowledge—and I gained it. I read that
man’s life from beginning to end. That is
his skeleton which you see suspended
there. I keep it as a memento of the one
man who has aided me in my search for
knowledge. Until within a short time
ago, I could not fathom the mystery of a
living mind. Now I see my way clear. I use
Professor Roentgen’s process for certain
purposes, and then—but, ah! there is the
secret. I will not tell you—a boy! I shall
tell some woman, and she shall tell the
world for me. A woman shall present to
the world the greatest truth within the pow
er of mortal beings. Now 1 shall test my dis
covery “ She had talked rapidly in great
contrast to her former deliberate way of
speaking.
“Hold still!” she said, as she arose and
dipped her finger in a crucible. She
moistened my eyelids with a liquid it con
tained, and then, taking another liquid,
did the same to her own. She then said:
“Think of your mother.” I naturally
thought of her as she stood at the door of
the boarding house, bidding me goodbye
that morning.
The old hag sat gazing at me all the
while. “Yes,” she laughed, “your moth
er is a handsome woman. Now think of
one whom you care for in a different way,
the one you love more than all else—your
sweetheart.
“Whrft!” she exclaimed, “What do I
see? A young man—tall, handsome!”
She grasped me by the arm and dragged
me to the light. My cap fell off, and my
long hair fell in waves behind me. “Ah,
fool that I was!’’ she said. “With all my
learning I could not tell a girl from a boy.”
Then she laughed a wild, weird laugh and
said: “Dome, you must go home now. I
will give you some of the liquids, if you
will promise to use them, and to come
back and report to me once a week.”
“Yes, yes,” I eagerly promised, then she
motioned me to go, and we stepped out
side.
The rain was now over, and the sun was
fast sinking behind a mass of brilliant
clouds. We walked on in silence until we
reached the rock on which I had sat, where
she had found me asleep. Here she paused
and looked around. It was lonely and
weird enough.
Putting her hand in her pocket, she
drew out two vials marked “I.” and “II.”
“Take these,” she said, “experiment with
them every chance you have, and report to
me. Use number one on the eyelids of
your subject, and number two on your
own. If you reverse the order, it is sud
den and certain death.” I looked around
and she was gone. I arose and walked on,
carrying my wheel as best I could, for 1
could no longer ride through the mud.
Very soon'l overtook a little girl driv
ing some cows. “Come here, child!” I
called, and to my surprise, she stepped up
to me unabashed.
“What is the matter with your eyes?”
I irquired.
“Nothing,” she answered, looking at me
qusstioningly.
‘ But there is,” I insisted, “they are as
red as blood. Let me put some of this
ointment on them, and it will cure you at
once.’’
Sho laughed and said: “No, I must go,
for Mother is waiting for me.”
“But can’t you help me carry my
wheel?” I asked piteously. “I am very
tired!”
She took the wheel and we walked on
together. I was determined to “try the
experiment,” as the old witch had bidden
me do, so I again remarked: “Your eyes
are very red,” and this time I spoke the
truth.
The child seemed to realize that some
thing was the matter, for she asked: “Will
that hurt me if I let you put it on my
eyes?”
“O no,” I replied eagerly.
“Well then,” she said, “please put a
little on.”
I moistened my finger, as I had seen the
old witch do, and applied it to my eyes
saying: “You see it can’t hurt you; I am
using some myself.” I then took the other
vial, taking care that she did not notice
the change, and moistened her lids. I
looked into her eyes, and, oh how strange
I felt! At first I saw only rays of light
emanating in all directions. Then, spread
out to my view was a beautiful picture—a
landscape; in the foreground was a tiny
cottage, covered with vines, in the door
way of which stood a pleasant-faced wo
man, holding an infant in her arms. She
seemed eagerly watching for someone. I
knew what that child was thinking, even
before she said: “Mother is waiting, I must
hurry home.”
“Go!” I said, and she hurried on, look
ing back, half-frightened. I stood quite
still a while, and as I turned to go in the
direction in which I supposed my boarding
place to te, I heard a cheery whistle be
hind me. On looking around, I saw a
young man stepping briskly along the
road. As yet he had not noticed me, and
seemed a little startled when he first caught
sight of me, standing in that lonely place
with my wheel in my hand.
“Hello!” he called good naturedly, “any
thing the matter? I beg pardon!” be
hastily added, lifting his hat and passing
on; “I thought you were—”
“Wait!” 1 called, “Won’t you help me
carry my wheel?’’
“Certainly!” he replied, again touching
his hat.
“I am very tired,” I continued, “and it
is so muddy I can’t ride, besides I don’t
know the way to Mr. Jasper's house.”
By this time he had taken my wheel,
and was offering me his arm. That, how
ever, I refused, as I trudged along by his
side. It was now quite dusk, and I knew
that I must hurry if I wished to make this
young man the subject of my experimen s.
“I notice that your eyes look weak,” I
ventured.
He laughed and said: “I think you are
mistaken, ma’am. My eyes are my strong
point. Nothing is the matter with them,
1 assure you.
“But,” I insisted, “they are very red. I
am an oculist and know that they
• need attention.” My conscience hurt me
t a little, but I lulled it to rest by reassur
, (Concluded on 6th Page.)
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