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TO MY SUCCESSOR
—By LOUIS E. THAYER.
Here is a toast that I want to drink to a Fellow 111 never know—
To the fellow who’s going to take my place when it is time for me to go.
I’ve wondered what kind of a chap he’ll be and I’ve wished I could take
his hand,
Just to whisper, * I wish you well, old man” in away that he’d understand.
I’d like to give him the cheering word that I’ve longed at times to hear;
I’d like to give him the warm handclasp when never a friend seems near. *
I’ve learned my knowledge by sheer hard work, and I wish I could pass it on
To the fellow who”ll come to take my place some day when I am gone.
Will he see all the sad mistakes I’ve made and not all the battles lost?
Will he ever guess of the tears they caused or the heartaches which they
cost?
Will he gaze through the failures and fruitless toil to the underlying plan,
And catch a glimpse of the real intent and the heart of the vanquished man?
I dare to hope he may pause some day as he toils as I have wrought,
And gain some strength for his weary task from the battles that I have
fought
But I’ve only the task itself to leave with the cares for him to face,
And never a cheering word may speak to the fellow who’ll take my place.
Then here’s to your health, old chap! I drink as a bridegroom to his
bride —•
1 leave an unfinished task for you, but God knows how I tried,
ive dreamed my dreame as all men do, but never a one came true,
And my prayer today is that all the dreams may be realized by you.
And we’ll meet some day tn the great unknown—out in the realm of space.
You’ll know my clasp as I take your hand and gaze in your tired face.
Then all our failures will be success in the light of the new-found dawn —
So I’m drinking your health, old chap, who’ll take my place when I am gone.
RANDOM SKETCH
Women Doctors on the Platform.—The Story of a Meeting Held About
Twenty Years Ago as Told Then by Mrs. Mary E. Bryan.
It was a night in the later half of
March, cold and blustering. I was
going to a meeting at Chickering Hall,
held in the interest of a new building
for the Women’s Medical College of
the New York Infirmary.
I was to hear three celebrated wo
men doctors “ speak in public, on the
stage.” I was to see the New York
corps of female physicians, with a
sprinkling of the same element from
Boston and Philadelphia. I was to
dine at a boarding-house devoted ex
clusively to women (mostly authors,
artists, teachers and journalists), and
to go thence to the hall with a woman
physician whom I had never seen.
I was late to dinner —having manag
ed, as usual, to lose my way—but the
presiding genius of the “hen coop,”
as these female boarding-houses are
irreverently called by the excluded
sex, gave me a gracious welcome, not
deserved, and set me at her right
hand.
The greater part of her flock had
fluttered away, to dress for going out
—to theaters, lectures, art-exhibitions,
etc. But at my left hand sat a bloom
ing young journalist—dramatic and
musical critic from the “Graphic”—
who had on her “Covert coat” and
close-fitting bonnet, and was drinking
a cup of black coffee before going to
the Star to see Bernhardt play as
Fedora on her first night.
Presently the “lady doctor” came
into the parlor, drawing on her gloves.
I had pictured her as severe-looking,
with hair put straight back, a brown
bonnet, thick shoes, and a heavy
close-buttoned ulster. Perhaps she
would wer. blue glasses. I could not
help a little stare of pleased sur
prise at the tall, willowy blonde, witt
golden bangs, a pale blue bonnet
shaped like the two folded leaves of
the sweet pea, and a bunch of pink
roses in her belt.
The March wind was sweeping th<
streets with the fierceness of a younj
blfzvard, but the large hall was com
fbrtably full. A glance around at th*
earnest, cultured faces, the quiet man
■er, and elegantly plain dressing, told
that the audler.ee was made up of
j-JI THE GOLDEN AGE FOR WEEK OF OCT. 9
people representing both brains an
money.
The stage was occupied by a triple
rw of dignified personages of both
sexes. Gray hairs and faces lined
with thought and study predominated
The first speech (after the meeting
was opened by Doctor Willis James)
was made by Doctr Draper, son of
that famous scientist whose works on
chemistry and natural philosophy we
have all thumbed and pored over as
school text-books.
This Doctor Draper, a slightly built,
scholarly gentleman, with a quietly
winning voice and manner, is himself
a noted physician and student of
science. And like all true scientists
he is large-minded and benevolent
He was sincere and cordial in his
recognition of the need of women in
the medical profession. He said wo
men physicians were needed for wc
men and for children. In the trying
maternal hour in delicate female com
plaints, woman could be best treated
by a skilled and well-trained physi
cian of her own sex. A modest worn
an often shrunk from making ther
trouble known to a doctor until it
was too late for full restoration. As
for children, it was plain to all who
had studied the workings of nature
that a woman was the better fitted t<
understand and heal the ailments of
a child. The maternal instinct im
planted in every woman with the
name eave her the subtle insight of
symuathv into the hidden source and
work’ngs of disease in children too'
young to explain their own symotoms
But clearly though this most liberal
minded doctor proved that in many
cases women were best ministered
to by one of their own sex. yet as he
sat down, I heard a woman behind me
say:
“That’s just the man I’d like for my
doctor. He has sue ha calm, restful
way. One would feel better as soor
as he came into the room.”
“Yes,” returned her comnanion. a
little, sallow, nervous-look’ng bru
nette. I don’t believe a woman has
ever such magnetism. I like women
doctors on principle, but when I get
sick I send for a man. A woman
would fidget me to death in no time.”
There seemed to be enough restful
strength in the next speaker. She was
no other than Doctor Emily Blackwell,
world known as one of the two female
pioneers in the field of medicine. The
other pioneer was her sister —Doctor
Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman
in America who graduated at a medi
cal college. It was a sketch of this
famous sister’s trials and struggles to
reach the goal of her aspiration that
Doctor Emily Blackwell gave. She
modestly avoided any reference to
herself and her own parallel experi
ence. She told her sister’s story as
a simple plain statement of facts.
She made no demand upon her au
dience for admiration of the heroism
with which the story was brimmed,
yet when Doctor James stepped forth
and said: “We have listened to the ex
perience of a heroine in the highest
sense of the word,” we all felt it
was true. It took stern moral heroism
on the part of the modestly reared
young girl to persist in a purpose that
took her out of the beaten track, ex
posed her to sharp criticism and sting
ing ridicule, and brought upon her the
alienation of friends. Sneers and per
suasion alike failed to move her from
her purpose. She had the courage of
strong conviction, the enthusiasm of
inborn inclination. One after another
the medical colleges of the country
peremptorily refused to admit her as
a pupil. She was in despair. She was
on the point of sailing for more gener
ous Paris, when the college ot Geneva,
New York State, announced to her
that through a vote of the students its
doors had opened to her knock. Two
years later she received her diploma
with further honors. And yet, if she
had not sailed for Europe immediate
ly after graduating, and returned af
ter three years of study and hospital
practice, with the foreign indorse
ment of her skill, it is probable she
would not have succeeded in her own
country.
The next speaker was of a differ
ent order from calm, unassertive,
benevolent Doctor Emily Blackwell. A
little, pale woman stepped to the front
—little and pale, but with nervous en
ergy in her movements, and the quick
fire of intellect in her eyes. The
name of Doctor Mary Putnam Jacobi
is familiar wherever newspapers and
medical journals are read. Her dis
course was more pointed and aggres
tive. She was not for hiding the light
of her sisterhood under a bushel. She
threw facts and figures into the face
of her audience. She enlarged upon
how much women had done for the
medical cause in New York; how rich
women and eccentric women had giv
en their money, efforts, and influence
freely to help build hospitals, to keep
and clear away the abuses in charity
hospitals that were fast making them
unpopular and a standing offense to
the city. And she claimed that for
these good services New York, in
common gratitude and self-respect,
should provide better facilities for the
instruction of women in medicine.
New York in this was behind Philadel
phia and Chicago, not to speak of how
immeasurably it was behind London
and Paris. While the learned and en
ergetic lady set forth the claims of
her professional sisters, my thoughts
drifted off to the only “woman doctor”
I had known in my child days. Men
tally I set her picture beside that of
Doctor Mary Jacobi of the keenly in
tellectual face and the severely neat
tailor-made suit, but of tsis seal hero
“Ole Miss Albritton,” as the negroes
called her, I will tell you next week.
MARY E. BRYAN.
FOR THE BOYS AND GIRLS WHO
CANNOT GO TO COLLEGE.
The wise and true crave not the
lofty tasks, but turn the small to
greatness.
There is an amazing rush of nerv
ous ones to the open spaces and we
are wondering just what the matter is
and sometimes think it is due not
so much to everwork as to needless
thinking about work. The woman
who complains in her thoughts and
ideas and believes herself underrated
in the business world is in nine cases
out of ten the first to break down.
The simple girl who takes down
letters in the small town lawyer’s
office has just as much dignity and
poise—and is just as necessary in the
business world —as the stately hea
of a millinery or modistes establish
ment and should feel just as impor
tant and do just as good work and
with all the enthusiasm of the college
woman or the university man.
Working women all too often spend
a lot of time and nervous energy un
derrating the dignity of their posi
tions and exagerating their lack of
importance to the extent that they
tax their strength beyond the limit
and give up what hould have been
amde a fine and lucrative position.
Instead of giving up a lucrative po
sition because you think the position
gives you no dignity and carries with
Lt no power or influence try to man
age the work that you may have some
leisure to take up something that
will lift you out of the well worn ways
and set you apart in a line of your
own. You want your personality to
count and that is the only thing that
will give you a distinctive place and
carry power and influence; the pos
session of a distinctive personality
that is so strong as to be able to es
tablish a place for its possessor along
some definite line —perhaps not a new
line of thought or of work —but new
in so far as a distinctive personality
can give newness —and try out your
ideas in a new way. You can soon
tell if you are one of the fortunate
who can stand alone and accrue unto
your self power and prestige.
For this you need little prepara
tion —except strength of personality
and enthusiasm —as the very indivi
duality of the mind that can accom
plish will carry you to success.
As we study The Origin and Forma
tion of English Literature we find
that the men and women whose work
and personalities have counted for
most in the world of art, letters, litera
ture, achievement along practical
lines, invention, discovery, explora
tion and pioneering were men and
women of little college learning and
the majority of them never saw a
university. Several of them left the
colleges in disgust with the education
al methods used and many of them
established new letters, new phraseo
logy and in two instances —new litera
ture.
I am not saving a word against col
leges and universities but I am mere*
MRS. VEST FELT LIKE CRYING.
Wallace, Va.—Mrs. Vest, of this place,
says, “I hadn’t been very well for
three years, and at last I was taken
bad. I could not stand on my feet, I
had such pains. I ached all over. I
felt like crying all the time. Mother
insisted on my trying Cardui. Now I
feel well, and do nearly all my house
work.” No medicine for weak and
ailing women, has been so successful
as Cardui. It goes to the spot, re
lieving pain and distress, and building
up womanly strength, in away that
will surely please you. Only try it
once.