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CAPTAIN GRAY'S COMPANY;
on
Crossing the PUIm and Urine in Oregon.
Br Mrs. A. J. DUNTWAY,
author or "jvditii reid," "ellen dowd,"
"AMIE AND HENRY LEE," "THE HAPPY
HOME," ETC., ETC, ETC.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, In the
year 1859, by Mrs. A. J.Dunlway, In the office of
the Librarian of Congress at "Washington City.
"Written In 1656 and first published by S. J. Mc
cormick In book form In 1859.
Introduction.
Very nearly twenty years ago the author of
the following story, having always lived upon
a farm, and being wholly Ignorant of all prac
tical knowledge"of the literary world, her asso
ciations confined to the Illiterate and strug
gling pioneers of tbo land of her adoption, con
ceived the Idea of entering In some way the
world's arena of letters. Being possessed of
lertlle Imagination, Imperfect education, affec
tionate nature, feeble strength, and romantic
disposition, and having encountered many
strange experiences "which made her tired and
old before her time," Mrs. Duniway compiled
her crude Ideas In the form of a novel, many,
and Indeed all the lmportantincldentstbereof,
being foundedupon facts, so grouped as to form
a connected story. She has been induced to
re-publlsh the work In these columns, partly
because of a desire to revise and correct the
original work of both herself and the publisher,
and partly because so often urged to do so by
subscribers, that she feels under obligation to
accede to their demands.
Dedication.
To the Pioneers of Oregon, and to nil .friends;
of the great Northwest who desire to awaken
an interest in our State and Washington, Terri
tory in the minds oi the thousands of dwellers
in the frigid climate of Eastern winters and
the torrid temperature of Eastern summers,
this revised relic of the reminiscences "of her
youth is respectfully dedicated, by
The Author.
CHAPTER XVIII.
MARTHA MARTIN.
Florence arose at dawn, unrefreshed
aud feverish, and sought the cool breezes
of the garden. A fountain there threw
up its limpid waters in the bracing air,
falling again into a reservoir, from
which they escaped and coursed away
In a noisy rivulet. She supposed that
no one but herself was astir at that
early hour, and stood, gazing at the
busy fountain, and leaning listlessly
against the back of one of the arbor
seats; her hair thrown back and, eyes
cast down, wbilo the refreshing breeze
played upon her fevered cheeks, and
tossed her curls in every direction over
her head.
She suddenly heard footsteps upon the
pavement. Herbert had arisen with
the larks, and walked at a rapid pace
through the city, trying to calm his
nervous agitation, which be considered
foolish. Hearing the fountain's gleeful
play, be stopped involuntarily to gaze
upon its foaming waters. His eyes met
Florence's startled look, and marked
the deep-bued flush that crimsoned her
cheeks. He bowed, and was trying to
think of something to say, when to his
surprise .she turned and entered the
house.
"My tongue never fails to serve me in
any one's presence but hers !" he mut
tered, as he continued his walk.
Florence entered her room, sat down
and addressed a long letter to her be
trothed, informing Mm of her early at
tachment and unexpected meeting with
Herbert:
"This unfortunate engagement has given me
any amount of trouble for the two past days.
The art of flirtation yon know I have never
learned. I thought I was to marry you, and
believed I loved you deeply, sincerely. Subse
quent events have sounded the shallow depths
of my attachment. I shall ever love you as a
friend, but to know that the object of my dear
est affection Is still alive lhat be loves me with
a sincerity only equaled by my regard for him,
and still consent to fulfill an engagement that
was, I thought, sincerely made, but now re
pentedwould be doing you an Injustice.
"I hold that as one man was made for one
woman, where the attachment Is not wholly
reciprocal between-the two persons, they had
better seek further, or remain unmarried, than
to enter Into a life-long engagement, which
both may repent when retraction Is Impossible.
"I do not now believe that you love me as
you are capable of loving, and If you will an
nul this engagement you may one day be able
to say to me, when we can both laugh over the
incidents of the past, that your attachment for
me was but a delusive dream, which, instead
of strengthening with your strength, has disap
peared before the enchanting loveliness of a
more congenial companion. I consider you a
gentleman of honor, and believe that you will
think more highly of me for having made this
confession, than you would If I bad fulfilled an
engagement which both of us might have sin
cerely repented. Wishing to remain upon
terms of friendship with you, and desiring you
to regard me as a sister, I close this humble
confession. Please answeratyourearllestcon
vofllence, for you know not the struggle my
spirit is enduring." -
The letter was dispatched to Mr. War
ren's law office, in the care of one of the
children of the family with whom she
resided. She longed to answer Herbert's
letter, but did not feel at liberty to do
so until she should hear from Henry.
After breakfast tbero was another
leisure hour before school time, but
Florence could not be still, and to make
the time pass more agreeably she pro
ceeded to the academy. Miss Martin,
the music teacher, was there before her,
and the quiet solitude she had hoped to
find for an hour in the school-room
must be sought elsewhere. She bowed,
and turned to go to the library, but
Miss Martin detained her.
"Yon were at Mrs. Card's soiree last
nlght?"jsbe said, Inquiringly.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Did you become acquainted with
Mr. Goodwin aud his sister?"
"I saw them there, but knew them on
the Plains."
"Indeed! I became acquainted with
them there. They were but children
when Iknew them, but I was deeply la.
terested In them and their amiable
mother."
"Their mother was dead before" I
knew them."
"Do they Intend to remain.long in the
clty?"
"Buta few days, I believe."
"I must call at Mrs. Card's this after
noon. Would you like to accompany
me?"
"Perhaps; but there is one thing I
want to talk to you about, as the only
person to whom I can go for counsel. If
you are an old maid, your heart is kept
green as spring-time by the overflowing
streams of kindness that cast a pleasing
spell upon all who" are thrown In your
company."
Miss Martin smiled.
"One would think you were growing
exceedingly, poetical over an old maid's
imaginary virtues. 'Old maid' I am
and expect to remain, for I am tweuty-
six, and the many dreams of my girl
hood are only remembered as seasons of
past sunshine their peculiar Trighiness
gone forever yet the reflection of by
gones radiates around me, and seems to
grow brighter every passing day. But
what do you want to tell me, dear? Wo
must finish our conversation before we
have listeners."
Miss Martin put her -arm affection
ately around her pupil. Bain that had
played in the air in a misty spray since
sunrise began to patter against the win
dow panes. Florence leaned her head
upon her teacher's breast, and told the
story of her engagement and its conse
quences. She showed the letter that
Herbert had written, and asked her for
counsel, as a child might seek advice
from -a judicious parent.
"You are doing right, my dear. The
only thing in which you are to blame
is that you did not tell Henry from the
.first, of your early fancy."
"l intended to tell mm, but neglected
to speak of it at the proper time, and
after we were engaged, thought it use
less." "Learn from this experience never to
keep from your lover things that you
would not wish him to learn as your
husband. You saw, or thought you
saw, in Henry Warren a man whom
you could love and honor. Had you in
formed him of your early attachment no
jealousy would have been awakened in
his breast, had he really been worthy of
your regard; but ho would have thought,
and truly, that one so faithful to the
memory of the departed would prove an
equally faithful wife to the living. My
experience was dearly bought,' dear
Floy. I pray God that you may never
be tried as I have been."
"Do please tell me about it," said
Florence, her black eyes glistening with
the interest she felt in her beloved
teacher. "You needn't be afraid to trust
me." -
"I was left an orphan a an early age,
and my lot was cast in the society of a
paternal aunt, who, though, mindful of
my temporal wants, never condescended
to notice my whims, as she regarded my
rather peculiar notions of almost every
thing. I grew up within myself; felt
that I had no congenial friends, and
thought T cared for no one, not even
tnyself. Two years before we started
for this country I became acquainted
with Mrs. Mays, a sister of my uncle, to
whose kindly regard I owe all that lam
or ever may be that is good and true.
She died upon the Plains, and again I
was left alone. When'in this condition,
and before I was sixteen years of age, I
met a young man, between whom and
myself sprang up a strong attachment.
We were not engaged, but each read the
feelings of the other aright, and we were
resting In quiet contentment, when
business called him to a distant State.
I received letters from him occasionally,
but my aunt forbade me to answer
them, so they ceased after a time to ar
rive. I blamed him for neglecting me,
and in the hope to spite him and cause
him uneasiness, I suffered a report of
my engagement with George Stokes, a
young man with whom I had been car
rying on a flirtation, to go abroad un
contradicted. Ayearpassed arid Wallace
returned. I had never told him about
aunt May's pious horror of love-letters,
and he didn't visit me as I afterwards
learned because he was offended by my
neglect. Had he known the restraint
under which I was kept at home he
would not have blamed me, but I
thought he had troubles enough of his
own", and kept my grievances from him.
George told him that we were engaged,
and lie departed without meeting me.
It will be ten years this evening siuce I
last beheld bis face. We were standing
under the great elms, in the avenue
fronting my uncle's home. He told me
that he was going; and requested me to
enter with, him' Into a solemn- engage
ment or marriage. L-gave him my
hand and was trying to speak, when a
spiteful call from my aunt disturbed
me. I often wonder how she "happened
to be married. Certain it is that she
looks upon the act as something crimi
nal in ether' folks. I' hurried away,
merely saying a hasty good-bye. The
next morning he took passage In the
cars for a distant city, and these letters
are the only mementoes left me of my
heart's young dream."
"What became of George?"
"He married an .excellent girl, and-is"
now living in my uncle's Eastern home
stead. He tried to find Wallace, after he
became aware'bf'my preference, but was
unsuccessful in his search. TEo may npt
J?OTlTIuAJST, OREGON, JEtTDATST, SEPTEMBER IT, 1875.
be living, but whether he is or not the
Infinite knowetb."
"Do you believe that persons who
truly love in life, and have perfect affin
ities for -each other here, will meet in
the world to come ?"
"Most certainly. Aunt Mays quotes
'They neither marry nor are given in
marriage,' as her proof of an opposite
theory. I freely admit the' force of that
clause of Divine .inspiration, but my
reason for it is this: Our Master says
nothing without cause. The world of
happiness is so much more perfect than
this (and we will not have the clog of
mortality to obscure our mental vision),
that each can read the thoughts of the
other's second self, and the attraction
will be mutual and instantaneous. 'No
marrying or giving in marriage' will be
necessary, for we will possess the Intu
itive knowledge of the .'angels of God lu
heaven.' "
"Don't you ever expect to get mar
ried ?
"Not unless I "find that I can be a
blessing to some one during life. A true
marriage is not-for me, unless the first
object of my regard should find me,
which is an improbability.
Numerous voices of happy and dis
satisfied girls were heard in the ball.
The driving rain had saturated their
cloaks and hoods, making fine fun for a
few, and grumblingdiscontentfor many.
Miss Martin replenished the fire, and
called the noisy group to order.
Florence took her usual seat, and as
she glanced at the plain, neat dress of
her teacher, and marked her subdued
but pleasant smiles, she wondered that
she had never thought her pretty before.
She knew that she had taken to teach
ing on account of red uced circu mstances,
and thought that the faint lines of sor
row dimly visible about the mouth and
eyes resulted from pecuniary disap
pointment.
Mr. Mays, her uncle, had become in
solvent after many years of ineffectual
gold-hunting and other speculations,
aud Martha, rather than be a burden on
his hands, had accepted her present sit
uation. She was styled "old maid" by
all of the girls when her back was
turned, but Florence now thought that
if they could hear her story as she bad
heard it, they would speak derisively of
hor no more.
"I wonder," she thought, "if all 'old
maids' have so great a cause forcontinu
ing in a state of 'single blessedness' as
she. has? She wouldn't be called 'old
maid' anywhere but in Oregon. Most
girls here think thoy must be married
before they're fifteen, or they'll be
doomed to irremediable spinsterhood.
I guess, too, that they have been af
fected to some extent with the mania
that has infected the bachelors. They
used to marry to hold their land. I, for
one, am not sorry that the Land Act
has expired."
Herbert and Effie were sitting in a
bay window of one of Mrs. Card's par
lors. Effle liad become absorbed in
"Dombey and Son," while Herbert was
trying in vain to become interested in
"Bayard Taylor's Cyclopedia of Modern
Travel," a book well suited to his taste,
and which at any other time wonld have
engaged hls entire attention. Mrs. Card
was superintending dinner, and had left
them alone for an hour.
Herbert shut the volume' with a ner
vous, heavy stroke, that aroused his sis
ter from her abstracted dream over the
printed page.
"Effle, do lay aside that book and talk
tome! My-head aches 1 How heavily
the time drags to-day."
. ''I'm sorry to hear you complain of
the tardiness of time, my dear brother,
I was just getting ready to have a hearty
laugh at 'Mr.- Toots.' Here, lay your
head on the sofa pillow, and Til try my
powers of mesmerism uponyou; Iguess
the 'maguetin my fingers' asDr. Muse
calls it can drive or allure the pain
away."
"You arc the dearest sister mortal
everhad." '
"You're a successful flatterer. I be
lieve I am the dearest sister you ever
had, if I do admit it myself."
"Are you jealous of Florence,- sister
mine?"
"What a question ! I don't expect to
occupy her place In your heart. I shall
stick most adhesively to my 'slster'b cor
ner;' I'm almost as deeply Interested in
your success as you are."
"Well, I'll have to confess that I felt
a pang of jealousy wlien you. first wrote
to me about Hubert Munson."
He paused, for a shade of sadness
which of late had often mantled his sis
ter's brow, had settled over her features.
"How long since you have received a
letter from Hubert ?"
"Over four yea'rs."
"Do you believe he has been false?"
"I do not. I shall always believe his
regard for me -was all that he expressed
it to be. He maybe'dead; Idon't know.
I have ventured to ask his father about
him sometimes, but he treats me so
coldly when I speak of his" son, that I
never persist until I get a satisfactory
answer. Tf he lives, ire will return so'tne
day ; if not, I can go 'to him."
'Herbert kissedher with a brother's
fondness, and seeing that she grew sad
der still, he adroitlycbanged the subject.
"Sister, do you know who is the au
thor of that song we sang last even
ing?'' - ' ' ' ' " k '
"lean guess." '"" "
"Who?" -
' "NoTue who .crossed' the Plain's, with
Erek Speech, Free Fbess, Free Peoplt
Maurice Stanton and listened to his
songs could doubt bis hand and head
work In that production."
"I wonder if Ada is going to be liteT-
ary ? If there are women in Oregon
who are capable or conducting a period
ical , I believe she Is among the number."
'Hugh Waters saysthat she Is going to
try to publish a magazine that will be
inferior to none in the Union. Won't
she wake the Eastern critics, if she de
scribes Western life and incidents as
they are tinged as she can tinge
them, with romance enough to make
them readable, and spice enough to at
tract everybody's attention. I don't be
lieve she'll care .for criticism. One
thing certain, her writings will all be of
a moral nature."
"Everything must have a beginning.
She will probably be successful in time.
But, my dear sister, I should hate to see
you trust yourself upon so precarious an
enterprise."
"I never expect to make the attempt
at least not in my own name. I may
write sometimes for publication, but I'll
hide behind a nom deplume, which no?
body but Ada can recognize. 1 should
faint under the blow of some self-conceited
bypocrite,.to say nothing of the
well-meant fault-findings that would
certainly assail my .most earnest efforts
in the newspapers and magazines, per
petrated by critics and editors whose
long study and final triumphant success
have emboldened them to crush the
first efforts of youthful genius ; their
bitings being the more bitter because
they have a remembrance of how and
where they started."
"Why, sister ! You must entertain a
very uncharitable opinion of our press.
I am certain that the American public
are generally very lenient toward youth
ful writers."
"You've turned your tune since you
warned me against a certain 'precarious
enterprise' a moment, ago. I should
consider you very fickle, from your re
marks, if I couldn't account for it by
your being In love,
"The -life of an authoress, though fas
cinating in its .very excitement to some
minds, would be a constant source of
mortification to my sensitive plant.
This is why I cautioned yon against it.
But what do you expect to do with
yourself?"
"I used to think I'd be mistr of a
little cottage of my own, and live among
birds and flowers, as we did in Illinois,
only on a grander scale; but life's future
is densely clouded now, and Idou't know
what course to pursue. We'll graduate
in June, and you'll of course get married;
do some chivalrous deed for your coun
try, besides tilling the soil, writing sci
entific articles for the Tribune;
starting benevolent societies; organiz
ing and superintending Sunday schools;
repeating numerous plagiarisms' upon
poems when you get eloquent, aud final
ly bringing up boys aud girls with bright
klack eyes aud raven curls."
"Is that all Bister?" He smiled at
her vivid picture, but a shade of doubt
crossed his face,
"Oh, you needn't look so doubtful. I
have the kaleidoscope that enables me
to see these things in your future.
Haven't I told you euough to do ?"
"I shall grow bald before I perform
half the work that you have assigned
me; and as to getting married and
bringing up the boys and girls,' though
a truly pleasant picture to contemplate,
I think its realization, Js very un
certain."
"Fie! Herbert. If I had no more
hope than you have, I'd .die of sus
pense."
!'Love makes cowards of us all."
"Don't call men coward. I'm, .in as
deep as you are, and I'm as brave as a
crusty old bachelor who couldii'.t love if
he should try,
"Sister, darling,- tell me Are you
happy, or do you apt this way to make
me feel at ease aboutyou ? If y.ou have
hidden trouble, I, as your only relative,
ought to share it."
She was sitting on a footstool beside
him, as he lay on the spfa. He put his
arm around her and drew her head upon
his breast, looking earnestly, into her
clear blue eyes,
"My heart knows its own bitterness,
my dear brother; I do not wish to add to
your cares by revealing my hidden
troubles; Do you remember the senti
ment of our song that won such applause,
long ago
" 'Brother, as you and I must brave
Alone the dangers pf Ufa's wave ; .
Let's here and now breathe anew vow,
Let's say, to anguish we'll ne'er bow. 1
" 'But through tho darkest hours of life,
In l&en despair, or" sorrow's strife,
We'lJ trust our mother's God' of love,
Who sees our aris,from realms above.
"The future was a sealed book, and I
knew nothing of the common troubles
of life. Ah ! I was so happy that eve
ning ! with every' word of Hubert's" let
ter burning in my heart,'andyour pres
ence to' cheer me, when all before had
been bo dark ! But I do not repine. My
motto 'is, and ever shall be, look upon
the brightest side of every cloud.' There
ts much for me to do upon this little
earth.'',
Tlie' announcement of dinner' inter
rupted the conversation.
"Miss Martin has been teaching in the
Academy for' some time past,
She s'eut me a note at noon, staliug that
she! would call upon you injcompauy
with' Miss 'Willard, this" evening, after
school," said Mrs Card,
5. '
"Mis3 Martha Martin? The 'prim
young lady we saw in Platte Elver val
ley, whose friend was dying, and whose
clothing looked so spotlessly clean in
contrast with tho soiled garments of
other folks."
"You have a strange medley of ideas,
sister. One might consider death and
clean clothes to-be. twin sisters, from
your way of speaking," said.her brother
with an attempt at an affectlonatesmile,
which, though it played around the
moutb, did not reach the eyes.
"She merely stated in her note here it
Is that she had met you several years'
ago, and would be pleased to renew the
acquaintance," remarked their hostess.
Henry "Warren was sitting In his
office, busily engaged in trying to' un
tangle the intricacies of a troublesome
law-suit, when tho letter from Florence
was placed in his band. He tore.open
the envelope with a. vague apprehension
that something was wrong.
"She shall never know that I regret
the turn matters have taken," he ex
claimed, and returned Florence's letter
immediately, enclosing the following
uote:
'Miss Viluiui:-I am sincerely obliged to
you for wishing to annul this troublesome en
gagement. It Is what I would have asked Inst
evening, but hadn't tbo heart to distress a
handsome maiden. In due appreciation of
your honesty, honor, andicandor, I subsbribe
myself your friend and brother,
"Henry Warren."
He dispatched the note- to the Acad
emy, sat down and , tried to medi
tate. He pressed his hand upon his
throbbing temples, while a tremor ran
through his frame. Mortified vanity
was his worst trouble, for he "had fallen
in love and out again," until he could
no .longer realize or feel any tender emo
tions. But .this was the only instance
in which tho "falling out" had not been
on his side.
"I'll make her believe that I never
did love her."
Common sense whispered that- that
was the very thing she most desired.
"But she shall not have the gratifica
tion of counting me among her slain;
that is certain."
"A note for Miss Willard," said. Miss
Martin, as she received the message from
the hand of Mr. Warren's errand boy,
and advanced toward Florence's seat,
saying in an undertone,"! will this time
omit one of my strictest rules, and per
mit you to retire to the library, where
you can read your note unobserved,
without waiting till the school closes"
Her tone aud looks expressed a mean
ing which Florence understood. She
had rightly conjectured as to who was
the author of the note, and knew how
anxiously her pnpil, was awaiting its
arrival.
"So much of making a confidant of
one's teacher," she thought, asshe.bowed
a respectful "thank you," and left the
room.
No feeling of wounded pride,-8ucb as
her betrothed had hoped to excite,
rankled in her breast.
"He hasn't suffered after all," was the
pleasing thought that filled her unsus
picious mind.
Whensho returned to the school-room,
she placed, the uote in the hand of her
teacher, who hastily glanced at the con
tents, and gave her pupil a smile of sat
isfaction. ,
The clouds disappeared in tho after
noon, aud the fresh spring rain-drops
beaded every out-door object with myr
iads of diamonds. Effle was gazing
through the window, watching the mo
tion of a pair of larks that were building
in the grass where they thought they
had found a secure hiding-place, when
she heard the gate open.
"MIsse3 WHlard and Martin are com-
I ng," she observed as she left the window,
Mrs. Card's brown eyes sparkled with
merriment, as she looked, archly at Her
bert, who colored to the roots of his
hair. He was conscious that she read
his secret, and could think of nothing to
say. The call was a protracted and very
pleasant one. Florence had been under
embarrassing restraint all through the
interview- and felt relieved when the
proposal to go was .made by her
teacher.
When they stood upon the threshold
ready for departure, afternoon had given
place to twilight,
"With your permission, ladies, I shall
be happy to accompany you to your
homes," said Herbert confusedly. Flor
ence podded assent, and asked'Effie to
join tuem in tueir waits.
."Here is my home" said Miss Martin,
when they reached the step3 of a large
boarding house, two squares distant
from Mrs. Card's residence. "Can't you
go in with me?" addressing Effle.
. "With, your permission, brother, I
will stop with Miss Martin until you re
turn. Now don't keep me up till mid
night, waiting for you," she added play
fully, as they moved on.
"Don't bo alarmed about her,. Mr.
Goodwin; I'll chapcro her to Mrs.
Card's in the morning," said Miss
Martin.
Beader, we were not there,-aud can't
tell you exactly what did pass between
the lovers, but certain it is, that before
they had spent an hour alone, Herbert
was heard to ask her where she would
like to live, and other questions sugges
tive of a mutual agreement.
"0, Herbert, do consent to go upon a;
farm. There are too many smart folks
In the world already. We can have a
sweet .little .home peeping out from a
groveof oaks, with green window-blinds,
NU3IBER -in
and a trellfsed portico. Then, la the
country, everything looks po fresh and
sweet. Such loves of flowers ! so many
wild berries ! such sweet, free birds !
How much happier they must be, than
my little Lucien, who sings so sweetly
from utter loneliness !"
"You didn't become disgusted with
farm life when in the mountains, I per
ceive." "Don't mention the 'mountains,' or
you'll remind me of my mountain aunt
Yes, I like farm life. I dont want ito
work myself to death, though. I'll tell
you that In the beginning. I want fresh
air, and honeysuckles, aud a pony, and
good health, and you," she added with
a blush.
"But there's the dark side; the foggy
weather, the muddy door-steps, the.
rainy washing days (Oregon ladies have
to be maids of all work), and the wet
stove-wood, and discontented husband."
"Why, you take a prosy view of
things. Don't you like the country ?"
"Yes, better than the city. But you
were gro wingso eloquent over the bright
side, that I thought I would remind you
of the dark one." -
The hall clock tolled the hour of twelve
as he departed.
"Miss Martin judged wisely, when
she decided upon keeping sister -over
night," said he to himself, as be descend
ed the steps. "I have often said that
I would never keep late hours In a lady's
company, and I have broken my resolu
tion under the very first temptation."
A maiden who had retired to the sol
itude of her chamber in a flood of ex
pectant bapplness, and a young man
who walked the deserted streets toward
a public lodging-house with the realiza
tion of a more perfect life than he had
ever known before, blooming in his
breast, knew nothing of the struggle be
tween mortified vanity and selfish love,
that was rankling In the breast of tho
discarded suitor.
Thus lightly are we prone to estimate
the inward a'ngulsh of others, when we
ourselves are happy, even if their mis
ery be not .concealed.
' To be continued.
- Slurs on "Women.
At a recent dinner in New York, at
which no ladies were present, a man, in
responding to a toast on "Women,"
dwelt almost solely on the frailty of the.
sex, claiming mat. the best among tuem
were little better than the worst, the
chief difference being in the surround
ings. At the conclusion of his remarks, a
gentleman present arose to his feet and
said :
"I trust the gentleman, in the appli
cation of his remarks, refers to his own
mothers and sisters, aud not to ours."
The effect of this most just and timely
rebuke was overwhelming, and the ma
ligner of women was covered with con
fusion and shame.
This incident. serves an excellent pur
pose in prefacing a few words which we
have for a long time had it in our mind
to say.
Of all the evils prevalent amongyoung
men, we'kuow of none more blighting
u its moral effects thau the tendency to
speakslightlngly of the virtue of women.
Now, js there anything in which youug
men are so thoroughly mistaken as in
the low estimate they form of women
not of their own mothers and sisters.
thank God, but of others, who, they for
get, are someuouy else's motnera and
sisters.
As a rule, no one who surrenders to
the debasing habit is safe to be trusted
with an enterprise requiring integrity
of character.
Plain words should be spoken on this
point, for tlie evil is a general one and
deep-rooted. If young men are some
times thrown into society of thought
less, or even lewd women, they have no
more right to measure all women by
what they see of these than they would
nave to estimate me character of uon
est and respectable citizens by the de
velopment or crime m our ponoe courts,
Let young men remember that their
chief happiness in life depends upou
their entire faith in women. No worldly
wisdom, no misanthropic philosophy.
no generalization, can cover or weaken
this fundamental truth. ' It stands like
the record of God himself, for it is noth
ing less than tuts, and should put- an
everlasting seal upon lips that are wont
to speak lightly of women Packard's
Monthly.
A ULTJB FOR WOMEN AS WELL AS
Men. The Albermarle Club in London
is an association organized on tho prin
ciple of ignoring sex, and giving to men
and women together the ordinary facili
ties of a London club. It is the first ex
periment of the kind. There is a club
for women separately already on a small
scaie, nut tnere nas never Deen one
where the two sexes met on even terms.
It has the countenance of some of the
best women and men In England, and it
begins with over 300 members, having
accommodations iorouu. TiiereJsasep
erate drawing-room for ladles aud a
smoking-room for men, from which la
dies are ' expressly excluded though
smoking among ladles is not unknown.
Thedining-rootn is open to both, but if
n lady likes a cup of tea in the ladles'
drawing-room she may have that.' At
present there is nothing in the rules to
prevent a member of the club of either
sex from asking a friend of either sex to
lunch or dinner. The only security ta;
ken on this point is that the namaof the
guest and host shall be entered together
in a'book open to' inspection. The mar
riage relation gave rise to some debate,
I hear, in connection with the .question
of membership, but it was decided that
the club had nothing to do with it-Mn
other wordstlthot a wife mightbe'a mem
ber without her husband, and the hus
band, of course, without his wife. The
experimentis madeln perfectgood faith,
and the club is entitled since they
would make it to fair treatment. Hut
it is diffieult to seo: how its life can be
long prolonged without giving tise to
scandal. -,
A disease similar -to the epizootic
has broken out among-the cattle near
Avon, New York. Forty died within
two weeks, and twenty in one day, , .
t
A Journal for the Teople.
Devoted to tho InteTests.of. Humanity
j- Independent la Polities and "ttellgion.
illve to all Liver Issues, and Thoroughly
Radical In Opposing and Exposing the Wrongs
of the Masses. . ' -
, Correspondents wrlUcg.over assumed signa
tures must mate .known their names to the
Editor.'of no-attention -iflil be given to their
communications.-
jut it shali i? mn, ior?
May I -waft "you up'oom, my darling,
.From over the sad, -moanlng-jsea.
As, I toss the night long on my pillow,
In my .lone hammock under the willow,
My- lullaby sung by the billow;
As It chanteth'the hymn oClhe freot
Shah I tell you I'm lonely, my darling,
While the night-bird carols1 a lay
That thrills me with thoughts 6f caresses,
Of a love' that e'en absence Impresses
With a rapture that quickens and blesses
The hours that wait fbf the day t
May I wblspfcr "I love, thee," my darling,
As I list to. the mad, moaning waves.
While the night-wlnc)s in frenzy are shrieking,
And the burnt pines are dolefully creaking,
And the surf Its keen vengeance is wreaking
On the rocks It remorselessly laves f .
Will you come in the autumn, my darling T
Will you Join me out here' on the leaT
WhUe the. heavens above us are bending,
And the starlight and moonlight are blending,
And the sad surf our tryst Is defending,
Will you keep a sweet vigil with me 1
A. J. D.
August, 1SI3.
" Tramps.
"Goodness mercy!" exclaimed my
friend, Mrs. Flareup; "ivhatever is to be
done with these tramps? They are a
greater nuisance than the Woman- Suf-
iragists, and tney are Dad enougn; dug
these tramps, they are at our back doors
and front doors, on our porches, and in
our wood-sheds, sleeping in our barns
and stables, and always sticking out
theirdirty, idle hands begging for cold
victuals, old clothes or money, morning,
noon, and night, as if it-were the busi
ness of us widows to keeftfree boarding
hoUses and old clothes' stores for their
laziness and degradation. I can hardly
get my own coffee poured out In the
morning before I .am called upon to
heed their wants the big, strong, im
pudent beggars. If I had. my way, I'd
have every one of them shut in the
poor-house. I'd teach them to tramp
to some effect."
"My dear Mrs. Frareup, why don't
you have your way? These tramps
that go their rounds, averaging two or
three a day, are men: and hear all the
men complaining of, scarcity of help
why don't you women join togetheraud
use your powers of ' persuasion to some
purpose to abate this lluisance ? They
say women rule."
"Bule? I should think they did!
Rule ? Haven't I been talkingand per
suading for years, about this thing and
the licensed dram-shops that' help along
all the trouble? And what good has
como of it? j.verytuing gets worse
and worse, and I don't see any help for
it."
"Suppose all women could "vote, do
you think"
"Oh, nonsense J Don't talk to me of
women's voting; what good could that
do ? . There are as many bad women as
bad men; and the- more bad we havo
at the political pump, the worse things
will get."
"Are there as many women tramps as
men?"
"No, indeed; not one to ten, thank
goodness !"
"As many women drunkards as men?"
. "Of course not; tho, world would come
to an end if there was."
"Do you not really think, Mrs. Flare
up, that there are more good, virtuous
women in every community, who would
vote for good, morals anil good habits,
than there are bad ones?"
"Well, yes; but what then? That
would not put the tramps in the work
house, orkeep thenar off the streets."
"I'm not so sure about that. Bishop
Haven says that 'only two-flfthapf the
legal voters stand on the.side of .temper
ance and good order in the United
States, while four-fifths of the women
would be counted on, always and every
where, as the advocates of peace, sobri
ety, chastity, and all things good, bo far
as they know.' Now, suppose all wom
en had the right of suffrage, and1 the
four-fifths of good women joined forces
with the two-fifths of good men, Dpn't
you see goodness would ,be. In the ma
jority? and in spite of the three-fifths
majority of bad meii, 'and one-fifth of
bad women, we might hope for better
things."
"Well, yes. It does look that way.
But what .has, allthat .to do with
tramps?"
"Only this : There Is scarce a tramp
In the nation but can vote, if be chooses
to take' the proper means to qualify
himselfi And there ard said to be fifty
thousand of them (and probably there
are ten times that number) standing
ready to sell their votes to the whisky
party whenever occasions, offer, while
you and I, who labor and strive all the
years, as best we know, to raise our sons
and daughters as good citizens, have no
power to preserve ourselves or society
against this army of evil, only our Influ-
ence, which you have declared 'is of no
avail.' You would, if you could, shut
all the tramps in the poor-house. Thus
you would make them in a few months
legal voters, for every demagogna to use
for his purpose dn election .days,; to
counteract all your efforts of reform, if
he chooses so to do. And thus the low
est, vilest, most idle and Ignorant, can
be made tools to destroy the work of the
best and truest hearts of the nation.
For any. male citizen. who is not an
alien, Idiot, lunatic or felon, may bo
taken out of these asylums'called poor
houses,, where your faxes and mine
help support them, to vote for liquorsa-
loons anu licensed nrotneis, or onyotner
madness that .our depraved civilization
chooses to demand."
"Wellr I suppose yo.u think, you
Woman Suffragists, that ail would be
sweet and bland as creanL, if you could
only vote."
"By no means. We believe in no
such extravagance. But we do believe
that Justice and right will make the
world better, and that iniustica and
wrong will, nay, must have the oodo-
site eOect. And we do believa if ia but
justice tljat-worrfeu should help make
me laws mat govern tnem, and be al
lowed the positive power as well as the
pursUasive influence, to try with all
their force to redeem the world from the
evils that deform and degrade it. Tho
right to try, and to succeed, if possible,
and, if they fail once or ten times, to try
again and correct their errors by tho
wisdom gained trom failures, and thii9
to grow themselves into a nigutr,
stronger, and purer life. .
"Tramps Lave only furnished me
with attest jfor.thIa.JittleLserm6n on
woman's rights. Please, dear. Mrs.
Flareup,' think of it, and perhaps you
will conclude to help us, instead oPtak
Ing sides with the tramps."JVancca jD.
Gage in Yomav!a Journal.
