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Chicago daily tribune. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1872-1963, November 09, 1873, Image 11

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84031492/1873-11-09/ed-1/seq-11/

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SELF-DECEPTION.
Wliat Wo Tfilnlc of Om-solvcs,
and, What Others I’hiuk
of Us.
VoEinino Foibles and llasculino HiS'
takoa.
Nothing is bo inexplicable to ft man astbo opin
ion formed of him by Ulfl best friends. lie can
readily understand why moro acquaintances,
distant relatives, and persons whom ho meets
only In the way of business, should all take
false views of his ebaraotor, disposition, and
abilities; but how the friend of his youth, the
wife of his bosom, and the very children ho has
trained, should all bo under a delusion concern
ing him,.ls more than ho can fathom.
There, for Instance, is
■run rnAonoAL man.
Ho makes it a matter of secret prido that ho id
Napoleonic imtho wonderful way in which he
unites comprehensiveness of plan with knowledge
of detail. He counts himself at the same time
enthusiastic but sagacious, sanguine but patient.
It is trim that bis enemies have sometimes
hinted that he was visionary, and was bettor at
planning than executing 5 but what master-mind
has not its detractors ? Tho sting of it Is, that
a man’s wife should hot bo among his believers.
Conceive tho feelings of a man who Imowshimsolf
capable of provisioning and clothing an army In
Iho field, and' whoso'business-agencies extend
over half , tho Union, being told by his spouse,
oh tho Ist of May, that. If ho will send a couple
of men to help her move,'she would rather ho
would go down town to his office I Then, how
much harder to boar than any of his enemies’
printed slanders are the martyr-air and eloquent
silence with ' which his wife surveys the soeuo
when she arrives at tho now domicile whore he
insistod on taking his station and issuing orders
for the disposal of tho things ? .The smothered
sigh and weary turning away of her head when
she enters the door, and sees tho best mattress
laid out fiat on the parlor-floor, and defaced by
the muddy prints of hurrying foot, tho “I
might-havo-known-it” air with which she
orders tho sweoplng-np of the fragments of
the largest mirror, which somebody sot against
the wall face outward, and, consequently,*
body else subsequently ran a bod-slat through’;
tho hopeless, patient, '.pressing.together of
her lips when it is discovered at nightfall, while
tho children ore clamoring for sapper, that tho
barrels of crockery and hardware ore all in tho'
third story, and tho beds havo all boon stored in
tho basement,—these aro tbo things that try
men’s souls.
“ How tho dickens waaltoknowwbatwasla
the confounded barrels?” queries tho husband,
mortified but defiant, and determined to mako
the mute sufferer say something . She does say
something. She unlaces tho baby’s shoes with
the air of ono who la determined to do her
duty to her .children, notwithstanding her him*
baud’s vagaries, and she either ooldiy replies :
“ Well, you needn’t swear about itor else re
torts with quiet sarcasm: “Did yon suppose the
■•bedsteads were: packed in? barrels ?” wouldn’t
any mau bo appeased iby such soft answers to
turn • away wiath? Or perhaps, though, it
would be moro iu consonance with bis feelings
to retire to solitude, and meditate on that pecu
liarity of the feminine mind which refuses to
recognize administrative genius.
Thou, again, there is :
' TUB MAN OF ACTION,
M Btyloa himself. Ho has a vast amount of
surplus energy, and, according to tho laws that
govern such matter*, he bos married an inert
wife {‘so, when ho cornea home some night, and
finds that that oil-cloth of which ho spoke yes
terday isn’t down yot, ho resolves to demonstrate
to his wife that it tokos a man, after all, to
run a bouse properly. lie begins
by propounding a few familiar conun
drums ? asks grimly whether there isn’t
force enough in that establishment to got that
011-clolh down without his coming home from
bis office to do it? and how many servants and
trodes-pooplo a woman cau keep busy doing noth
ing ? and how much longer be will bo obliged
to stumble over that roll of oil-cloth in tho
hall, unless ho leaves bla business to nail it down
. himself ? Then he scatters tho children—one
enuadfora hammer, and another for taoks.
Whenholcnnmtbattboroare.no lacks in tho
bouse, ho rejoins, with ill-concealed triumph,
that of course (here are none.—thoro never are
any,—and ho might* have Known itt Finally,
when Lis materials ore all collected (as well as
tho family), ho pulls off his coat with a reso
lute air. and- gets - down on all fours
on that oil-cloth. It exhibits such an uncon
querable determination to roll-itself up into a
pipe-stom shape, that, while bo nails down ouo
cud of it, a standing committee of throe chil
dren attend to the other end. The whole affair
Is vexatious enough | but tho worst of it all is,
that his wife, who sits there so comfortably in
her rocking-chair, keeps making, with the most
aggravating unconsciousness, little suggestions
as to tho location of the oil-cloth, the size of
tacks,, and various other details. 'When -at last
ho has succeeded in tacking down both ends,
half-skinning his hands, and taking a month’s
wear off his new pantaloons, ho rises to exam
ine his work, and finds that it puffs
up at the sides,. Peep disgust fills
his 'soul,' and ho 1 ' secretly wishes
ho had been content to endure the evils that he
know, and to.stumble uncomplainingly over that
pil-cloth as it lay peacefully rolled up m tho hall.
His wife remarks that 11 She could have told him
that,” bogs him not to be impatient, and philos
ophises that getting mad never brings anything
right. Ho goes down on his knees again, and
hauls every individual tack out of the eud of It,
aud proceeds to nail down the sides. The result
of that la, that the ends uow puff up. Ho glares
at that oil-cloth In impotent rago. His wife
pours oil on tho raging fire by suggestively re
marking that he’d “ better leave it till morning,
and she will have a man come and put
it down. That was what she was
waiting for all the time.” He looks
at her most, expressively, opens his lips, but
suddenly remembers some, good resolutions
made concerning her in the ante-nuptial days,
ind, turning on tho ohlldrou, who are gleefully
lumping up and down on that oil-cloth to
straighten it, be orders every ono of them to
take a chair, and sit in it till bed-time. Then
he pulls all those tacks out, and nails that oil
oloth down afresh all round, and then there is
nothing loft for it to do but puff up in tho mid
dle.—which it docs. Ho eyes it ouo moment
with concentrated rage, gives a kind of pop-gun
utterance of ono short, sharp monosyllabic,
flings his hammer down, unmindful that it oomes
In contact with an idolized ohlna-doU, —tho
property of a weeping 7-year old,—and retires
up stairs to wash his hands aud say his prayers.
Still ho cannot understand why his wife doesn't
consider him efficient about tuo house. Now
(he ruminates), if she had some men for a hus
band, she’d see the difference pretty quick.
There i* a kind of melancholy humor in vesting
tho
ILLUSIONS OF TOUTIt.
.. Nobody exactly likes to make them targets for
wits, and yet every one recognizes the fact that
they are common property, like the measles, or
colds in the head. Where is the woman who can
bold up her right hand and affirm that sho never
cherished a secret belief that ■ she was born to
die young? That sho never stretched herself
out at full length, closed her* eyes, folded
her hands meekly upon her breast, and
pitied herself with a tender sadness, as she re
flected that it was thus she would lie cold and
silent, with her long lashes swooping her marble
cheek, while all her family, who had boon so
often harsh to her in little every-day matters,
would be so very sorry for all the unkind things
they had ever done to her. and the hero of her
girlish dreams, with bis eloquent eyes and mu
sical voice, would feel that his heart was buried
lu her grave. Whore is the man who - did not
cherish a sweet conviction, on attaining his ma
jority, that ho was born for tho accomplishment
of great things, and that tho reason ho lived
through the whooping-cough - when the doc
tors gave him up, aud was rescued
from drowning by hts sobool-followa when
be rose for the third time, and, In short, came
safely through all Juvenile sicknesses and
escapades, was because Destiny had marked him
for her own? Then with what a rueful little
grimace a man recalls the ideal wife of his
youth. She was always to wear the daintiest of
gloves, and the most bewitching of slippers,
and a rosebud in her hair, and, when bo was not
with her, she was to do nothing hut dream of
him, and watch for his coming. It never oc
curred to liim but that gloves, and flowers, and
ribbons wero as much bur natural belongings as
dazzling plumage was a humming-bird's. Alas
for the day when first the young husband saw
L;a angel with her dreos-skirb pinned up
out of tho dirt, aud her sweeping-gloves
on, and her head tied up in an old veil, and
UoATtl her uav that sho wu filwi ho waar’i-cam
inff bomo to dlnnor, booaaßo now ulio'cl hard a
Stairs*! • B P r^n ß>*°^ oan^n ß done up*
.BvoryniAn nUrtn trat ta Ufa with llio bollof
tlmt Bomo day bo will bo rich, Practical mon
to I Y rork ., t ° »»« J«d Intent, ami ylclonary
fll,dlu< 5 treasures. lucky
loUcry-klckotß, and wonderful inventiona. It
oomoa to about tbo enrao Ihlng In the end. for
not more than one 1q five bundled to rich.
LVory woman believes at 18 tlmt i.ho will
bo luniTiod; but, what with lior own
objocuoiiH to the men who cannot write
poetry, and men who haven’t Greek
, m^ u who cannot waltz,
nml men who lack other liko-iraporlant qualifica
tions for matiimouy, added to the natural
parental objections to mon who exhibit early
tendencies to Hottlo on their fathers-in-law,
many a woman wakes up at middle ago to find
herself, all at once, an old maid. Probably who
wishes Bbo had married j but probably, if she
hod married, Bho would wish Bho hadn't: It
a . oo ™a as if, whatever ono did in this life, bo was
destined to regret It. It Is a delusion and a
snara to imagine that, whatever your decision
niarbo, you won’t live to bo sorry for it.
when the mirageaof youth have forever van*
ished, there Bill! remain
TUB FALLACIES OP rOJITV.
Tho man of that ago who does not solaeo him
self with tho boliof that his abandonment of
tobacco is merely an affair of his will is
yet to bo found. I’ationt ami prolonged search
ing has failed to bring to public notice the mid
dle-aged dame who does not fondly expatiate, in
confidential moments, upon tho beauty of her
youthful complexion, and tho former lovely
luxuriance of her tresses. Quo moots many
young girls who lack those attractions, but tho
matron who has not possessed them Is believed
not to bo extant.
Another fallacy in which most pooplo live and
die Is, that some time or other they will loam
French. No solution has over been given to tho
problem why this hope of acquiring a foreign
language cheers so many despairing souls. It
is simply an acknowledged fact. They aro al
ways jast going to commence, and aro only
waiting for Luo long winter-evenings to come, or
for tho summer vacation to begin,
, Thou follow
TUB DELUSIONS OP OLD AGE.
Dm anybody over know an old person who did
not profess to wish to give up au care and find a
place to end his days in peace? And did any
body over boo an old person who was not jeal
ously sensitive about being relieved of domestic
responsibility, audjemarlcably suspicious of auy
arrangements for superannuated members of
the family circle ? Thoro comes to tho old »
general fooling of dissatisfaction with modem
theology, . modern social tenets,' sowlng
machiuoß, and patent reapers. Cue could
forgive them this natural discontent with every
thing, if only they did not mistake it for
a longing for Heaven. It isn’t oven piety; it is
simply a yearning for home-made yarn-hose,
pa*ohwork-quil!s, stage-coaches, qulll-pons, and
othor antiquities.
But
THE UNIVERSAL DELUSION
is a religious one. Everybody who has over
been inside 0/ a church luiontls to repent, bo
converted, and die a Christian. It is simply a
question of time—that is all. Everyone expects
to die of some lingering disease that will give
rimo for reflection, wean the thoughts from
earth, and transform the ordinary shiner into a
saint all ready for Heaven. Tho woman who
has alienated all her children and reK-
Hvos by her selfishness believes sho
til , v ® f°ng enough to win Heaven
with charitable bequests of the money which she
can no longer uso. Tho stock-gambler eJlacoa
hia conscience with public bonelaolions and re
ligious endowments, and fully intends togivo
bis soul, also, to hia Creator, as soon as ho can
got it back out of his luvestmonto. Nobody
wishes to die till ho has become a Christian, and
nobody wishes to become a Christian till ho is
going to die. The only difficulty soome to be in
making tho events simultaneous.
THE VOICELESS.
Wo count tho broken lyres that roil
Where tho sweet walling singers slumber:
But o’er tboir silent sisters* breast
Tho wild flowers who will stoop to number?
A few can touch tho magic string,
And noisy fame Is proud to win them:
Alas for those that never slag,
But die with all their music In them I
Nay, or! eve not for the dead alone,
Whoso aoug hos told their heart's sad story;
Weep for tho voiceless, who have known
Tne cross but not (he crown of glory!
Not where Loucadlsn broezee sweep
O’er Sappho's memory-haunted billow,
But where tho glistening night-dewi weep
On nameless sorrow’s church-vurd pillow.
r O hearts that brook and giro no sign,
‘ Save whitening Ups and fading tresses.
Till Death pours out his cordial Mine,
Slow-dropped from Misery’s crushing presses
• If singing breath or echoing chord
To every hidden pang wore given,
What endless melodies were poured,
As sad ss earth, as sweet as hoaveu 1
•0. IF. Uolmea ,
iilark Twain.
A letter in tho Washington Star says: “Buf
falo has many reminiscences of Hark Twain, and
of his remarkable attempt at publishing a news
paper on an ontiroly now plan. After bis return
from the Holy Land (per Quaker City), Mark
took a wife, and purchased the third interest in
the Buffalo Express, owned bv A. M. Clapp, Pub
lic Printer. They say that Mark’s atfyle of news
paper work was unique. Do is not an early
riser, and is as slow of movement as of speech
consequently ho didn’t cot to tho office very ear
ly In the morning. And when there his move
ments wore not characterized . -'by ner
vous haste. Beating himself in a capacious
Elvot-chair, his first move was to deposit bis
oots in tho waste-basket, and replace them
with roomy slippers. Then, elevating his slip
pered foot to a comfortable cushion on tho ex
change papers (their only legitimate use in his
estimation), it was his wont to lay back in his
chair, swinging himself lazily on its pivot, and
toll stories of wit and wisdom by the hour to
tho associate editors. This was vastly pleas
ant to all concerned, but somehow it did not
work in tho way of making a newsy paper,
and at tho end of six weeks Hark came to
tho conclusion that publishing a newspaper
was not his forte. He, however, retained
his interest in the Express for about a year
and a half, though, as aforesaid, he did not
toko part in tho ’active’management for more
than six weeks. Mark married tho daugh
ter of Jarvis Langdon, of Elmira, N. Y., tho
heaviest coal operator in tho West. His proper
ty was valued as high os $10,0(10,000 in his life,
and had he lived to get all his irons out of the
fire, perhaps that amount might have been real
ized. but leaving everything by tho ends, there
has boon a groat • shrinkage ’ (the word, I believe)
In the value of assets. Still there is enough loft
to divide a triflo of a few millions between
Mark’s wife and her brother, Charles Langdon.
It was through this brother, by tho way, that
Mark got his wife. ’Charley’ was one of tho
’lnnocents Abroad’who accompanied Clemens
on bis famous trip on tho Quaker City, and
wrote home so enthusiastically about Mark
Twain that Mr. Langdon, Sr., sent him a cordial
invitation to visit thorn at Elmira. The result
was the mooting of Mark and Miss Lajgdons a
case of love at first sight, and the brain becom
ing one.”
• From the London Wmee. Oet. 14.
Last evening “Mark Twain" (Mr. 8, L.
Clemons'), the well-known American humorist*
delivered a lecture on “ Our Fellow-Savages of
the Sandwich Islands," at the Hanover Square
Booms. There was a very largo audience
including many dramatic and literary celebri
ties, both English and American, among whom
Mr. Bamuin, the “Yankee" showman, now
on a visit to this country, was especially no
ticed. The lecturer, on making his appearance
upon the platform, was warmly greeted. He
stated that it was proposed that evening to de
liver. and on the four following evenings and
on Saturday afternoon next, to repeat, a leoturo
upon the Sandwioh Islands, the habits and cus
toms of the natives, the character of the coun
try, and so forth. Ho should ask their per
mission to introduce to thorn “Mr. Mark
Twain," a gentleman whoso varied learning, his
torical accuracy, veneration for the truth, and
devotion to science wore only equaled by his per
sonal comeliness, his grandeur of character, and
native sweetness of disposition. It was of him
self that ho gave that vague and modest de
scription ; and, finding that it was the custom in
this country to introduce a lecturer, and not
wishing, though ho disliked it, to break
through that custom, ho had chosen to
make the introduction himself, with the ob
ieofc of getting in all tiro facta. In view of the
iborahty of England, who had sent to America
all the lecturers that she could spare, ho had
felt it nothing but right and fair that the United
States, in however imperfect a way, should re
ciprocate the compliment, and he had. therefore,
voluntarily thrown himself into the breach!
Howaspioseut that evening under those cir
cumstances, not in his own insignificant indi
vidual capacity, but as a representative and ox-
Sonoufc of the gratitude of America, and so
rraly was ho impressed with the importance of
his diplomatic mission that to make amends for
past neglect fro should insist on sunding to Great
Britain in future fourteen Yankee Jofturoro for
•vary one who left Uro*« shores.
Iu tho liifo Of a Strong-Minded
Marshall foil in UpvincoU'* .Varjatine,
EXTRACTS FROM A JOURNAL.
Nov. 1, 18—. It 1b just throe years to-da'y
aluoo X • began to keep IUIh journal. lam so
glad now that I poisiatod In doing ao, in splto of
ibo tomptalloua tliat havo oflon assailed nm'io
throw it aside. How olso could I realize, bring
Uomo to myaolf, those past throe years, strong
and vivid aa my remembrance of them Is ? No
effort of mere recollection could havo preserved
for mo as this book baa done a record of my
straggles and failures, and of my victories. Yea,
I write the .word proudly, victorias t for X have
boon beyond my hopes successful. How well I
remember my dear mother’s distress at my queer'
notions, as sho called them,*—her entreaties, her
.Illogical protests • against my making my-;
self “ conspicuous I” Hoar mother! I can
see now that it was very natural she
should havo disliked and dreaded my becoming l
a “strong-minded woman,” for anything nar
rower than her ideas of a woman’s education andi
sphere ono cannot imagine. Sho was an excel- 1
lent specimen of the old-faahloncd mother and
wife, and I believe sincerely thought her wholo
duty In lifo and the intention of her creation .
was “ to suoklo fools and ohroniolo small-boor.”
Lot mo seo s yos, hero it is at the very begin
ning—Nov. 1,18 —. How faded the ink looks!
Lot mp road it: “ To-day I told mothor I meant
to attend a course of medical lectures ; wo had a
scone, and sho called in Cousin Jane to reason
with me. How I detest Cousin Jane! She is '
nothing but a mass of orthodox dogmatism. Of
course, we quarreled over it. and she ended by
tolling mo I was. disgracing the family, and was
no true woman. Well, wo shall see which of ua:
has the truer comprehension of a woman’s
sphere.”* V
- It is three yoa!ra since I wrote that. Those 100- •
turoa wore my first step, and, hko ali'first steps, i
cost mo moro ofa struggle than nnyfihing I havo
done since.. As I look backovorUhoso throe
years, I seo that every hopo and aspiration I
thou cherished has been more, than realized. I
can trace the steady progress of my intellect. I.
can go back to the days when I started to : cam 1
my own hvlng-Mvbon I thought; it a groat thing l
to havo earned a few dollars by my own labor.
Yes, lam very glad to havo this record of the
past: it makes mo strong and hopeful of the
future. X havo never regretted my decision to
make an independent life for myself. I
havo sought only to do that for whioh
Nature had gifted mb, and from whioh
nothing but custom and prejudice debarred mo ;
and in claiming my owm position X am conscious
of having helped other tvomon, am! of having'
led the way for those who may bo less coura- 1
gooua than I am. • *
All this might sound very conceited and self-!
confident to any one w}ho should read- it, but X-‘
do not writo to bo road by other eyes than my
own: my journal is the rdflox of my thought* i
and feelings; so I may jbo frank with myself, ’•
And why should I not bolproud of my iudopoud-,
once, aa well aa any other* human creature ?
Xhitl must prepare my speech for to-morrow. J
They say they can’t do wiSbont mo, and 1 really
boliovo they monnit; for tbotagh dome women',
besides myaolf have opinions, and can put thorn '
into words, they mostly lack the courage that I
certainly possess. What a delicious sense of
freedom and unfettered action I havo In my life I
1 don't think X have laid down the special powers 3
of my sox in asserting my freedom; but youn
must wait, little book, for the confession that isl*
on the tip of my pen. Work first; that is my“
motto. . ’
Nov. 10.—Ton days since I opened my*
journal, and such busy days as they*
have been I Xhroe speeches, and half a*
pamphlet written I I have done whatl
people commonly term “a man’s work” this;
week. Howl despise all those tlrao-honoredi
phrases, which, dead letters as they arc, act am
links to strengthen tho chain that binds women*
in a state of inferiority. Why not say “a*.
woman's work ?” But that is a different sortofi
thing, X should bo told; a woman should stay at *
homo and take oaro of her house and ohlUlreu. t
Why so, say I, if she has no house, and does not»
wish for husband aud children, feeling that they *
would impede her In her work ? All women are \
not born to be wives and mothers; some have :
other work to do. But X need not argue with my
Journal; it is of my way of thinking; my ideas
‘mootno opposition hero. “But this is not at
all womanly,” my critic would say, hod I ono,
which I havo not: “ you havo not said a word of
tuo really Important event.of the week,” Dare
I say that I had half forgotten it ? A man' has
asked mo to many ham I Thb groat event of a
woman’s lifo has boon within my reach, and I
refused it. Mr. Whitaker is a very nice fellow,
hut too adoring by half. I want an equal, not a
slave—a friend, a companion, not a man drawn
to mo by his imagination, and desiring to put
mo on a pedestal before marriage, that be may
reverse oar position afterward. And then, too,
marriage would hamper and restrict me. I must
not givo up to mankind what is meant for a
party. But bore I have a reflection. to
make, the result of my throe years’ ex
perience since I became a “strong-minded
woman.” It is always maintained that a woman
who chooses the life and holds tho views that X do
destroys her attraction and charm for the other
sex, and that no man, however olover aud suc
cessful she majr be, wilTwant to marry a woman
who puts her intellect inlq ti’ousers instead of
fettlcoata. There was never a greater mistake,
have had four offers of man-lag? since I “ un
soxod” myaolf (that’s tho proper expression, I
behove), and all from most respectable, well-to
do, worthy men; and I really think* they all
cared for mo. I cannot help having a certain
sense of gratified vanity about this, for, in spite
of my dritibs, lam a woman still. X have earn
ed a rest to-night, so I’ll stop writing and go to
bod.
Witch-Hazel.
Nov. IC.—I fool lonely to-night. lam not of
ten lonely; perhaps my little book will comfort
mo. Sometimes I have said to myself that my
motto was that of a star: “Einsam bin icb,
nicht ftlloin.” To-night it is not so. That- Mr.
Lawrence who was introduced to mo had a strik
ing face, but thoro was a sort of masculine man
ner about him that I don’t fancy. Manliness I
, like, bnt he seemed to bo sure that I was not his
' equal; and yet bo treated mo with perfect re
spect and courtesy.. Some ouo whispered in my
oar, '.‘.Ho is a. groat society swell.” I have never'
scon anything of what is called society: I was'
not born with a title to admission within its cir*
clo, and I have always been too proud to seek it:
yet I confess that 1 have a curiosity to see what
it la liko. 1 suppose I should seo tho best re-,
suit that the old wav of looking at women can
produce,—the plnkAjotton system, I call it* I
don’t boliovo that man would over dream of .con
tradicting me in a question of fact, or of using
bis strongest logical weapons against mo in a
discussion; he would only play with mo men
tally. How angiy tho very thought makes me I
And yet ho would defer to my opinion, and pay
me all respect, and listen to everything I sain,
however silty, because I am & woman. What a
strange, inconsistent mingling of discordant
ideas! A toy and a divinity! His manners were,
however, very agreeable : I suppose he is what
is called > man of the world. Bather a poor
thing to ho { his manners are dearly bought. He
said something about his cousin, Mrs. Fordyce,
calling on mo. Well, if she does, I shall per
haps have a glimpse at the bean monde. I won- ■
dor if all the men‘ln society look as high-bred as
ho does ? Ho Is probably narrow-minded natu
rally, but ho is one result of bur scheme of civili
zation, which has its good as well as its bad
points. Dear me 1 I certainly did not moan to
make an analysis of Mr. Lawrence's character.
Qood-ulght, my little book I
Nov. 20.—1 cannot write to-night, and
yet I must, I must. My head is bursting with
thoughts and visions, iny heart Is swelling with
jew Bonsotions, What an evening I have Lad !
1 aboil never, never think myself courageous
again. I. who have faced crowds with calmness,
to quail before forty or fifty men and women,
not one of whom was more intelligent or better
educated than myself I But let mo write it out
:* * ?J in : * accepted Mrs. Fordyoo’s Invitation
to a little party. It was graciously given, and I,
fool that 1 was. thought it was to do mo honor
that I was asked. I did not know then that
those women of society will commit a baseness
fbr a now sensation or to gratify an emotion
of curiosity. I have been so admired, so
looked up to by tho men who have sur
rounded me, I never dreamed of being tho ob
ject of more curiosity or amusement, Well, I
wont. Tho room was half full of men and
women, talking, laughing, moving about. I was
alone, oud from tho moment of my entrance
into that blaze of light 1 felt lonely and weak }
but 1 crossed tho room and spoke to my host
ess, She greeted mo graciously, and then some
one else oarno up, andl stood aside. Suddenly
the coupe of eyes upon mo oamo over mo. Hpw
those women stated | Never before hadf tyion
among women ami felt no pond of sisterhood.
How waa It P Ww I uusoxed, os they ?
CLhere muunad a mUf batwaau nai I wum}
gl'lllj} CHICAGO DAILY SUN DA V, TVOVGMiiKU <J, 187;!.
AN EPISODE.
Woman.
it in tholr eyes, it onme to mo in tho nlr,—a
subtle bat boon conviction. And how exquisite
thoy woro I—kb soft and Braootb and whlto, with
' no linos on- thoir foreheads or crosses round
tholr mouths. I had never such a souse of beau*
ly given mo before by anything but pictures. I
wondered tho men did not Imool to them t I felt
ah If I could tnysolf if thoy would lot mo. As I
Blood tlioio, my heart boating quick, and some
thing hi my throat bcglmiliiff to choho mo, daz
zled aud bewildered by the econo, a voice
said—oh how gently—in my ear, “ Mins
Linton you will lot mo 'lake you into the
other rooms? Thoio aro one or two pic
tures you will enjoy." I tried not to
start, but I trembled in spite of myuolf,
tho rollof wan bo groat. Thero wo stood—ho'
Ilonry Lawrence. tailor, and liandsomor, aud
proudor-looklng than any man In the room, look
ing down upon mo and offering mo his arm I I
think I folt as I should if a lifeboat came to tako
mo off a wreck—in a modified degree, I moau. I
took his arm with a fow rathor inarticulate words
of thanks, nnd wo strolled through the other
rooms, ho listening to me with such earnest at
tentiveness, bending Ida head at bvoiy word,
1 Booming so absorbed in mo, so forgetful of tbo
women who gazed at mo as if I woro a pariah, aud
. tho men who smilod on thorn as thoy did so. I
' confess it, 1 folt as If ho stood botwoon mo
aud tho mooking, coldly Borutinlziug glances
about mo. I felt guarded, protected, and I
oould not struggle against tho fooling, weak
though I know it was i it Boomed irresistible. I
suppose, being a woman like other women, 1 in
herit traditional weakness, and cannot break tho
bonds of former generations In a day; Bo it as
it may, ho did not seem to know or uotlco that I
was not myself: bo only seemed interested and
absorbed. 1 did not feel as if 1 wore taxing his
courtesy, and soon I recovered my self-posses
sion and talked naturally: my spirits rose, and
my natural self-assertion returned to mo. 1 en
joyed looking at tho women, watching thoir
ways and listening to tho sound of their voices.
It was a revelation of a new world to mo, and 1
said as much to him.
“What in particular is it," ho said, “that
strikosorou so?”
“I think,’* 1 answered, “it is tho harmony of
tho wholo effect.”
“A thoroughbred woman always produces an
harmonious effect,” he said.
Something in his tone jarred mo, and I s&ld
hastily, “I don’t think development should be
sacrificed to harmony; incomplotoneso is better
than perfection sometimes.”
He smiled sweetly; “Yes, but lam afraid we
should hardly agree about the development of
womou, though 1 should liko to hoar you talk
of it.”
“ Why should we not discuss and disagree ?”
“ Ido not like to disagree with a woman at
all, especially with a woman whom I admire,” ho
said, bending his blue oyca on me with a look
snob as 1 bad nover seen before in a man’s eyes.
It was what I suppose would bo called a ohival
i rio look ; aud yot chivalry was only an improved
,barbarism.
“ Mrs. Fordyoo came up just then, and intro
duced some gentleman to mo ; and while thoy
woro talking, Mr. Lawrence turned away. In a
'.fow moments ho was book again with a lovcly-
Qooking young girl on his arm, blushing and yot
self-posse seed, with tho same exquisite simplici
ty of manner ho has himself. “My cousin,
Alice Wilton, aak-e me to introduce her to you.
Miss Linton.” ho said.
I have always—shall I confess it?—patted
young girds on tho head: this one I could no
more have patronized than 1 could a statue of
Diana. Sho was very charming to look at as sho
stood beside her cousin, and yet— No, 1 will
mako no exception : she was charming in every
way, aud I folt moro at my ease that a woman
had boon presented to mo.
Mr. Lawrcuco pub me in my carriage. As ho
closed the door ho said, “ Your maid is not with
you ? ’’
I replied that 1 had none; on which ho Bald to
the driver, “ Drive slowly s I mean to walk as
far as the hotel with the carriage.”
• “ Won’t you got in ?" I cried from the window.
i Ho seemed not to hear mo, but started off at a
rapid pace, and Igave up the attempt, wonder*
ing at what seemed to mo an eccentric choice.
It was unnecessary for him to go with mo at all,
• but I thought, “Ho has boon, 1 euppoao,
\ brought up to think no woman can toko core of
1 herself.” Ho was ready to open the door aa I
r goc out, and I longed to abU him why bo had not
driven with mo; but 1 hesitated: something
tioo my tongue, and in a moment he had said
“Good-night,” and was gone with hasty stops
• into the darkness. I must stop, lam so tired.
■ Deo. B.—lt scorns to mo lam growing to
bo a dreadful egotist. I put nothing down now
1 in' this little book but Just what concerns myself
—nothing of the great subjects of universal in
terest which have always absorbed most of my
thoughts, hut just my own . doings and sayings.
At this very moment I desire only to write about
my afternoon, and the wav in which I spent it.
I will indulge myself, anil the record may servo
mo. How it had snowed all day I how it did
enow this afternoon whonl started out, wrapped
in my waterproof, accoutred to encounter the
storm, and rejoicing m tbo absouco of long
sldrts and hooped petticoats I With my India
rubber boats I felt I could plod through any
snow-drift, and I gained a pervading souse of
exhilaration from the boating of the storm in
my face. I chose a certain street I had oomo to
know, which ran straight through tbo town and
on into a more thinly-settled suburb. It was a
good, clear patb, and 1 should bo able to have a
splendid walk without mcetiug probably more
, than a dozen people in the course of it. Just as
,1 passed the last square of closely-built town
houses, and began to como upon tuo stretching
white landscape before mo, os I trudged along,
turning my head a Utilo aside to escape tbo
brunt of the driving enow, I hoard an exclama
tion of surprise, and a man’s voice said, “ You
Jure, Miss Linton ? ”
It was ho, Mr.’ Lawrence. There ho stood, his
eyes brilliant with tbo excitement of tho storm,
1 his check aglow with exorcise, looking, as the
rold women say, “ tbo very picture of a man.” I
am very sensitive to beauty, and his seems to me
very groat j it draws me to him.
“ Yes, it is I,” I said (wo had both stopped).
“ I wanted exorcise and air, and something to
change my frame of mind; so 1 came out for a
'tramp.”
He turned with me, and we walked on. In a
.moment more he said. “Will you take my arm?
Jit will bo easier to keep stop and walk fast
'thon.”
I I took it, and he looked down at me
Ba id» with an inscrutable smiio,
which haunts mo yet, I suppose because
I can’t mako out its meaning, “Do you believe
.* in fate ?”
“If you moan by fate something which the
will is powerless to resist, against which it is un
availing to struggle, Ido not,” I answered. “Do
you, Mr. Lawrouco ?”
Ho laughed, not a pleasant laugh, albeit musl
cal, but as if his smile had been ouo with some
hidden moaning in it: “I hardly know what I
believe. Certainly some power seems to lay
traps for our wills at times, and waylay us when
they are off duty. As, for instance,” ho wont
on. I wanted to seo you to uay, and I
did not go to see you: my will noted
perfectly well, and I scorned able to resist any
temptation. I como out boro to walk alone,
thinking that I should bo even farther awav from
;rou bore than elsewhere, when, 10l you a fart up
;n my path, and boro wo are together. It is just
aB if some malicious spirit had mocked mo with'
an idea of my own strength, only to betray mo
the bettor through my weakness.” Ho spoko •
with an intensity which scorned out of place,
and strangely unlike his usual calm manner,
Somehow, a feeling of groat delight had como
over mo as ho spoke. X felt pleased—why I do
not know—at his evident impatience and annoy
ance. *
Bat why, said I, “ did you turn with mo ?
2 here would have boon tho moiaout for your
will to act." 4
“You think bo? That is hardly fair, Mien
Linton. Does ouo brand a soldier as a coward
and a laggard who baa fought and won a battle,
and has sunk exhausted upon his arms to Bleep,
if he is discomfited and dismayed when, just as
slumber has him in its arras, a fresh foe sots
upon lum p No, I could not turn back. 1 '
it oy° B ,wero bout on mo again, and some
thing In them stirred my eoul to Its depths!
Huou a dellcloufl feeling seemed stealing over
mo—a fooling of mixed power and weakness, I
felt my color rise, but I looked ahead over tho
snow-fields and said, “I don’t see why you siiould
have turned back. Why should yon want to be
with mo and not with mo ? I wanted to see you
too." •* I
I started as ho spoke again, for his voice and
manner wore both changed—all the qidvor and
intensity gone out of them. "Tho ‘reason
why of a mood Is hard to find sometimes, and
when found one has a oouviotion that no ono but
°u° B 80 « would see its reasonableness," ho said
with a laugh oold and musical. M Lot us talk of
something wo oan both bo sure to understand."
ilo seemed far away again. For a moment ho
had seemed so near—nearer, I think, than I ever
remember to have felt a man to bo. Then ho
talked, and talked very well, and mado mo talk,
though it was not as easy ax It usually
Is to mo, and though we epoko of things
that are generally to mo like tuq
B0 W„ of * trumpet to tho war-horse. My
spirit did not rise i tjio words would hardly come:
1 wanted to ho alono gud think It over—.think
over ms words, bis manner, ids voice, tho look
Ip his eyes, and 800 what they meant, and, if X
Could, why ho had changed uo suddenly to mo, ,
When wo bad walked eomodistmtoo farther hoi
aITT)H«if nmrwwM famine *uuur.
homo. As wo neared tho hotel I could not resist
i asking him why ho had not oomo homo with me
that night lu tho carriage instead of walking, or
running rather, beside it.
Such a strange look onmo over bis face as 1
asked him, and his lips sot with a stern expres
sion as ho said stifily, Icily, “ I had realized, Miss
Linton, how utterly different our ways of lookiuf;
at hfu mustho; or also perhaps it is that you do no;
hold mo to bo enough of a knight to consider a
woman's position before my own comfort aud
pleasure,” .
“ I don’t understand you," said I, bewildered.
“I tttked you to got into tho oarriago.”
“I kuqw it," ho repllud; “but in such mat
ters no gentleman can allow a woman’s kindly
Impulse of courlosy to compromise hor in any
way; ho must think first of Lor, and all tho
moro boc&uso sho has thought of him.”
“What do you moan by compromise?” X ex
claimed. “I am quite independent enough
of public opinion to bo a froo agent
in such matters: you must not
forgot that lam a very different woman from a
society bollo.”
.. " Quite true,” he answered, stung by my tono,
but 1 do not claim to bo unooxod because—be
cause— Ho stammered.
“Because I am? You aro.righb to boliovo ac
cording to your lights, Mr. Lawrence, but Imnst
decline to boo life by them; Good night I ” Ills
tono was' moro than I could boar, aud I turned
abruptly from blm; wo had reached tho hotel,
aud without a word moro I ran up-stairs to my
parlor. Tho door was ajar: I entered hastily
and pushed It to, but ho had followed mo ou tho
instant, and now stood with it in his hand.
“1 cannot lot you send mo away without say
ing one word,” ho said. “ I uovor meant t6 say
that you woro unsoxed. I hog you will forgivo
mdir 1 offended you. I had no right in tho
world to jadgo for you.. It was a presumptuous
impulse to protect, to guard you, that prompted
ray action tuo other night—my words just now.
Forgivo mo. As for my prejudices, thoy shall
not displease you again: only remember as my
cxou&o that a men or my class has but ono way
of looking at a woman whom—ho—” Ho drew a
long breath, hesitated, and then said with au
effort— 1 “ admires.”
Tho word was ccfld and formal, but
his voice and manner ..wero warm and
earnest, His mood . Boomed changed:
be seemed ‘ again ■■ near mo, and an irro?
sistible attraction toward,^him possessed moj
body and soul. There was something in his very
attitude, as ho stood by the door with his head
bent down, that seemed •to win mo. What was
it that came over mo ? What subtle power is it
by which ono natuio draws another without any
apparent or auatblo summons ? Ido not know;
but ibis I know, that as ho said the words I
havo just written down a floodgate within me
seemed raised, and withta mighty rush my spirit
bounded toward him. And yot I did not move,
“ Forgivo you ?” I said. r ‘Yes, a thousand
times l’ r
Ho looked up, said “Thank you I” very
softly, aud turned toward the door.
When he reached It ho stopped, turned again,
and came up to me. “ Will you give me your
hand in token of forgiveness and friendship ?”
ho said. j
I said nothing, but hold out my hand. Ho
took it in both of his, and then in a moment
more my arms wero about his neok, and war lips
hod mot. Ho kissed mo again and again, held
ma very close for an instant, and then, untwining
my arms from their hold, ho abruptly loft the
room. That was three hours ago, and 1 have sat
hero thinking, thinking, ever since. What docs
it all moan ? Writing It out has helped mo, as 1
thought it would. Two things havo become
clear to mo: lam quite conscious that
I Have sought Mr. Lawrence at loast as much as
bo has mo. I have always bfiliovod it to bo as
natural for a woman who was onco freed from
tho foolish proludiccs of education and tradition
to hold out her hand to any ono who attracted
hor as for a man to sook a woman. Now I havo
proved it to bo true. Ho does attract mo. Why
deny it, either to raysolf or him ? I do not. I
will not. This I boo and know to bo true. The
other thing which seems clear to mo is, that ho
is only drawn .by one sldo of his nature—that ho
does not want to love mo, perhaps con only half
love me. Then, if that bo so, I havo dbno
wrong to show him my footings. With his
ideas about women, ho would feel it to bo
almost unmanly to fold his arms on his breast
if a woman pnt hors about biff nook, as
I did; and I fear! forced my love upon him.
I fool as I should think a man fools who has
taken on unfair advantage of a woman’s fauoy
for him, and got from her graces and favors to
which hor wholo heart does not assent. lam
not ashamed of loving him; boar me witness,
little book, I am not ashamed of loving him, nor
indeed of telling him so; only I would not
“ betray his will,” as bo said this afternoon.
No, no: if ho comoo to mo, it must bo with a
whole and willing heart. Now that’s resolved,
what next ? Writo to him of course, and toil
him I am sorry to have led him into
this position, aud say, “I won’t do so
again.* Did a woman over writo to a
man before and bog bis pardon for lotting him
kiss hor ? for throwiug her arms about his
neok? I doubt it,-hut what docs that matter ?
I belong to tho now era, and I will bo tho “ Com
ing Woman." I laugh, but I fool, after all. moro 1
like crying. Good-night, littlo book. I will 1
write to Mr. Lawrouco in tho morning. Now for
bod.
Deo,- 4. —I wrote to him this morning. and
sout my note by a messenger. 1 could not work;
I could neither think nor write, till hia answer
came. Ho had made tho boaror of ray note
wait, and wrote mo just a fow words to ask if
be might not boo mo to-uight. I wrotobaok
‘‘ Yes ” and now it is only 4 o’clock i
bo will not como till 8. It aoeme an impossible
time to wait, and I must not wnato tho afternoon
as I did tho morning. Lot me boo : shall I fin
ish that article on English love-poetry, paat and
present, in which I moan to show how the germ
of degradation and decay always existed, oven
in tho chlvalrio idea of woman’s nature and
sphere, and how it has gone on developing itself
in tho poetry which is its truest expression, till
wo have got its different stages from the ideal,
of the school which really had a gloss of olova-'
tion and fine sentiment about it—the woman of
Horrlok and Bon Jonson, and later on of Love
lace and Montrose, to tho woman of Owen
Meredith and Swinburne, who, instead of
inspiring men to die for hor*honor, makes
them rather wish her to live to 'be
tho instruments of their pleasure? It was not
a had idea, and I think I could have traced the
gradations very well. But I cannot write, I
cannot think. Let mo recall my letter to him.
Ah, hero is one of tho dozen copies I mode
before I could mako it what I wanted:
“My Deab Mn. Lawrence: I must ask you
to forgive rao, for I am conscious of having
boon thoughtless and selfish. I yielded to an
impulse yesterday, and I put you In an unfair
position. I never meant to do it, and I will
novor do it again. I trust we may bo trienda.
and I am, Yours truly,
“ Margaret Linton.”
That was oil I said; I wiehnowlhadsaidmore.
Ah mo 1 will evening never come?
Before I go to boa I must write award or two.
Ah, how much happier lam than I was last
night! He came at 8 punctually. I trembled
all over when I shook hands with him: I think
ho must have seen It, but ho said nothing.
What a wonderful thing this thing they coll high
breeding is 1 One feels it in a moment, and yet
it seems intangible, indescribable. Ho has it, I
should think, in perfection, and ho is tho only
. person I have over known who possessed it
except, perhaps, that young girl, his cousin,
whom ho presented to mo at the parly. Fora
while we talked—at least ho md—easily and
pleasantly, and then suddenly he said, smiling
at rao, “Do you know, I think you are a very
generous woman ?”
“Do you? Why?" said I.
“Because you are willing to shoulder other
people a peccadilloes. Don’t you know a woman
should nover do that, especially for a man, who
la naturally selfish, and can always taico care of
himself?”
I did not liko the word peccadilloes, but I only
said," So oan a woman take care of herself,"
"Do you really believe that ?" ho said, with a
gleam in his blue eyes.
“ Keally, I do. lam sure, at least, that I can
take care of myself."
" Are you ? ,r said ho. We wore sitting beside
each other on tho sofa, and in another moment
ho had put his arm about mo and drawn me to
him. I could not resist him—his voice, his
©yes, his sweet words. I loved Idm and was bap
py. It was a heaven of delight to bo ho near him:
and how natural It seemed i Ho said little, nop
did I say many words ; ho hold mo in his arms,
kissed mo many times on my hands, ebooks, and
hna j and then suddenly, almost abruptly, ho
loft me, pleading an engagement. But my hap
piness did not go with him. lam happy In tho
oouviotion that ho loves mo, and I feel
strong to make him all my own. lip will come
igaln to-morrow. Ho did not say so:
no need to say so—he will surely come. Ho is
poor, I know. What of that? I earn a good In
come, and together we can defy tho world, I
ihall bo able to convert him from Ids prejudices'
?.Vr *? RrfQW notions, now thpt he loves me.
What an acquisition to our cause l_ Ho loves mo 1
as I am. I have yielded iiQthiiig, I have saoii-'
ficed nothing—not one lola of principle,' not an
inph of ground. He has come to mo boeauso ho!
loves me. 1 can influence him to think as I do <
of woman’s naturo and sphere. Uy tingle 1 lire
will convince him of tho Justice of* my Ideas, niid
having known mo, ho cj\p never " decline! on a
lower range of footings and a narrower sphere
than wine. l '
K aw triumuhiLut, I am % could
sing a song of rojdoing, Have I not always
luit sure that a womaini truo attraction does
not depend upon tUo fnlao altitude in which abo
ib placed by men ? This man has aeon mo as I
am, aud X bar© drawn him to mo.
Deo. 11.—It seems acorcoly possible that It Is
but ono wook ainco I wrote those words above,
yot the date starosme in the face, and lolls mo
that but seven days and aovon nights have
imbued since then. It ecotns to mo Jt lf all my
pant hfo hold lens of omotl.m, of sensation, leas
of living, than this otio week \ and vrlml abso
lute, uncompromising nalu It Ims all been I It
seems to mu as if I bad boon through every t.l a *
of milforiug In succession? yet to what
it nil amount ? what has caused it all ? what has
racked mo with all thobo various gradations of
iorluro? Just (his: since that night, that tri
umphant, happy night, 1 have neither heard from
nor soon Mr. Lawronco., Silonco, unbroken
silence, has boon between us. 1 have homo it,
but oh how badly I—not calmly or with quiet
self-control aud strength,; but I have borne It
with passionate outcry and rootless struggles. I
have sobbed myself to sloop at night; I have
roamed aimlessly about during the day, or lain
on a lounge, book iu baud, protending to road,
but in reality listening, waiting, longing, to hear
his stop, his knock, to havo somo mossago,
somo sign, come to mo from him. r JL'hou it
has soomod to mo as if thero was but ono other
human oroaturo in the world, and that was bo
as if all thoinauitold needs and(Wnnts. losses and
gains; of humanity had no longer tiro slightest
meaning for mo. X havo no seuso of auy am
bitiou, any aim, any obligation pressing upon
mo. I And nothing within myself to food upon
but a few pale memories of him, and my wholo
future seems concentrated iu Ids existence, Ino
not think I can boar to livo as I am now. It is
all profoundly dark to mo. Why does ho not
como ? I can think of no possible explanation—
none. lam resolved to think it out to an end,
and then act: it is this pagsivonoßs which is kill
ing mo.
x lam resolved? I will write, and will ask him
to oomo to mo, and when ho oomes I will say
what I fool. , Homo mlstakou hesitation is keen
ing him away. I will say, “Wo lovo one an
other; lot us unite our lives and livo them to
gether, yoked in all oxoroiso of noble end.”
LETTS!! mOH EKNBY LAWBENOE TO OEOBOG MAN-
NINO.
_ Deo.ll.
Dear Georoe: I will begin by lolling tbo
truth, and bore it la : lam in a scrape. I know
you won’t think much of the simple fact, but the
soiapo is vory different from any of my former
ones. and I don’t aoo how I can got out of it hon
orably. I can boo you raiao your eyebrows,
and. hoar you say with an incredulous smile.
‘‘Why, Harry, I hare heard you ridicule honor a
thousand times whore women are concerned,
and of coarse this scrape involves a woman."
You are right there—it does: or rather a woman
has iuvolvod me, and there lies the scrape.* As
for honor, 1 laugh at most of the things 1 be
lieve in, just because it is the fashion of the
day—and I belong to the day I live in— not to
wear one's heart on one's sleeve. Then, too,
sometimes one finds that logically one thinks a
thing, an idea, a fooling absurd, and yet when
one’s life comes into collision with it,
somehow up springs’ -something ’ within
yon which ’ I suppose might bo called
an instinct, and forces you to respbet and
cherish and uphold the vory feeliug or idea
which you have already ridiculed.
, WoU, I’ll toll you my story, and then perhaps
you’ll toll me whot to do. About—lot me see—a
month ago 1 wont with some men ono evening,
out of pure idleness, to a public meeting, Tho
men who spoko wore all stupid, and roared and
mouthed stuff full of souud and fury, signify
ing nothing," and I was thinking how I could
get away and have a game of cards at tho club,
when suddenly a voice iiko music smote upon
my astonished oars. I looked up, and there on
•the platform stood a woman, speaking,
by Jove! and doing it well, too. I lis
tened and looked, and should have en
joyed It if it had not disgusted me so in
theory. I must confess, barring tho fact of her
being there, there was nothing objootiopable
about her. She was handsome, and had a mag
nificent voice; she talked a hundred per cent
bettor than tho men who preceded her; and it
was well for tho meeting that it was over when
she stopped: any other speaker would havo
made a terrible anti-climax. Tho two follows
with mo proposed our being introduced to hor,
and half from curiosity, half—l aworo to speak
the truth—half, George, from attraction (hoar
mo out, old follow: she was fomlniuo-look
ing ana vory handsome'!—l went forward
and was presented. She interested and at
tracted me, tho more so perhaps that from
tho moment our eyes met I was conscious
that there existed between us a strong
natural affinity, latent, bat capable of being de
veloped. I called on her tbe next day, and made
my cousin Clara invito hor to a party, Clara,
who is thoroughly unconventional, and would do
anything to please me, did so without a second
thought. But imagine my distress when, as I
entered the drawing-room a litllo lato, I saw my
fair Amazon standing in a doorway, not only
alone, hut alone in tho midst of curious and
scornful glances. My courtesy was at stake, my
chivalry was aroused, and she looked very hand
some and vory like any other woman brought
to bay. She had tho most charming expression,
compounded of bewilderment and dofianco,
on hor face when my eyes fell on her, and it
changed to one that pleased mo still bettor
(which I won’t describe) when our oyes mot.
You, you unbelieving dog, think that hccauso
she is “ strong-minded" sho must be repulsive
and immodest. But there is a charming incon
sistency about female human nature.
Bat to go on with my story. I folt qnlto
like a champion. I assure you, for, altar all, it
was shabby of the women to give her tho cold
shoulder, and cowardly of the men to stand
aloof; so I devoted myself to hor, and asked
Alice Wilton to bo presented to her. Miss Lin
ton has not a particle of usage du monde, ' nor
is she what would be called high-bred ; but
sho is self-possessed and gentle m her manner,
and makes a good enough figure in tho company
of ladies and gentlemen. Hero I confess mv
weakness. I did think her - very attractive, and
I was conscious that I had a power over her
which I did not forbear to oxoroiso. The result
of this was that when wo parted she bad every
reason to expect to boo me very soon again, and
1 had inwardly resolved never to see her again*
if 1 could help it. I did keep away, and then
luck would havo it that I mot her talcing a walk
one snowy afternoon. I suspected sho had oomo
out to got away from tho remombraucoof mo, as
I bad to got away from the desire to see her*
and she was so moved by seeing mo that I could
not help showing hor that I oared for her
and perhaps seemed to core more than I did. It
was a aoro temptation and I yielded to it
Wrong ? Do you think I don’t know that it
was wrong ? But the worst is to come, I walked
back with her, and an accident led'to our having
ono of those conversations that people havo
when they aro under tho influence of emotion
and cannot give it vent in Its natural wav, but
muet do something or talk. If I could have pub
my arms about her and kissed hor, wo could have
got on without words s as it was, I said I hardly
know what, and sne, hoing very much in earnest
and very unsophisticated, showed mo how much
she cared for mo. I vow, George, if I had had a
moment to think,to gather my self-control— But
I had not, and so wo ended by my finding her
arms round my neck, after all. I lushed away
with hardly a word, and walked and walked, and
thought and thought. The next comes a note
from hor—what ono would call a manly, straight
forward acknowledgment that she had led mo
into a position that was an unfair one, and that
she regretted it. Nothing franker or moro gen
erous could havo boon conceived, but somehow
it roused within mo tho Impulse to mako her
conscious of tho weakness of hor sox. My mas
culine conceit rose and demanded an opportuni
ty of self-assertion. Ivrentto her,and sho seemed
moro attractive than over. Her Independence
and solf-reiianco nettled mo, and I was moon
Sh to yield to tho desire to see If sho could
me. But I was richly punished, for tho
knowledge rolled over mo like a wave that she
lovod mo, and I left her, stung by tbo conscious
ness of having taken an unworthy advantage of
a simple and trustful nature. I know that this
Is high tragedy, and will moot with your dis
pleasure. i can hoar you say, “Confound you,
Hairy 1 why don’t you marry nor?"
Voryoaoy to soy; but look at tho situation,
which is not so simplo as you probably think. Of
course any girl of my own class woifld never
build an edifice of eternal and sacred
happiness on such a foundation as a few
warm looks and eloquent words, or even a
caress, might furnish. In plain words, neither
sho nor I would think marriage a necessary or
©von likely sequence to such a preamble. But it
is different with Miss Linton. Xam sure, lam
confident—laugh if you like—that oho has never
given any man what sho has given me, either in
degree or kind, Her ocoontrio notions about
women o nature and position would protoot hor
from tampering with hor own foolinns Qr those
qf another; and thou too, there bus boon eo
much bard reality, eo mirnU serious buoiness, in
her life that tho sweet follies of girlhood hive
not boon hors. ShulUsay that f owmot help
JjjJJ* l # I .\ or to/woonco ami inexperience make ii fc V
altiacllyo? I am not «uro, oven, that
they do not balmico hey aeU-rolionco and
pondonco, which certainly ropo\ mo, AlUhla I
did not dream Qf at first. I aipnot a scoundrel
or a coxcomb. It cpmp to mo the other after
nooi\uilftloneo, whouuhodiowher armp about
® ®°n mi l ba !°- bo ? u BPineli, and porhapa stu
pid. n Why not marry her?” you bp,v. I have
,Wl«4 Ui.at dupnUpiK wd thin ia m
swor: No passion In tho world could make me
Insensible to tho humiliation of her career, and
1 should bo obliged uot only to acoopt it in the
past, but to recognize It In tho future. My wife
must bo my social equal and tho natural asso
ciate of high-bred women. 1 must be ablo to take
any man by tho throat who looks at or spoaka
of hor as does not please mo. This woman’s
character, intellect, manners, and appearance
are public property for all purposes of criticism
and cnmmffnt. Hue is unsoxou. My wife musk
bo dependent' ou mb, clinging to me. This,
woman ban always stood, and will always stand
mount and yeti havo thought that she wae
y?»>Mde <>r anoh deep, strong, oonoontrstml fool*
>’ " f •’‘‘t the mau who owned her hoart might do
tier as ho likod. This, I admit, has tempted
mo to think of marriage, for, after all. aeorco,
?J,7 otlia Po a luxury to bo very much loved,
ibis woman would lovo a man in anotlifcr fashion
from that wiilou prevails in society.
1 i° put V lO i dea away from mo," and
S.L .v’.?? t . orml “° a , not ‘9 Dinrrrlior, «mlyo»
feeling that I have unintentionally wronged her.
f na *o not boon near her theno seven clays. I
S£f W «£f 0 ° x r c T ot » “O-Bho has otery right to ox-
J V\ m “Ot go till I havo decided
do * /? am to ° woak to no other-.
MmnmWH V* 7 10 ', Goor fip. andadviaomo? and
remember that sbe la not like tho women o\
whom wo have both known so many. She has no
more Idea of flirting than had Hippolyla, Queen
of tho Amazons, or Zeuobla, Queen of Palmyra—
thoso two strong-minded women of old days, I
am Joking, but I assure you 1 am not
Jolly. I am afraid, George, that she
truly loves mo, aud, nnßoxod though sho
bo. lovo has made a woman of her, and I fear ia
unmanniug me. Yours always,
_ „ , . Henry Lawrence.
P. 9.—1 open ray letter to say that it is too
late for you to write when you receive this: il
will bo over. I hove Just’got a note from her
askine to see mo. I shall speak frankly, but I
fool llko a hound. As over, H. L
JOURNAL.
Deo. 11.—I am resolved td write It all down at
it happened. I wrote him a nolo this afternoon
and this evening ho camo—handsome, pale, and
quiet. Ho walked up to mo, took my hand in
his, pressed It .and let it go. Ho did not wail
for mo to speak, fortunately, for I could not
have spoken : I could hot have commanded mj
voice. Ho said—oh so quietly aud steadily 1—
'•I .should havo como loaoo you to-night, 1
think, if** you had not asked me: I had so much
to sy.”
, I thought you would nover come,".! answer
ed.
I .. Ho 1088 > n fl'walkea hnn-lodly up and down
tho room, thon paused in front of mo and Sald
ino words seemed burned into my brain—“ You
aro a woman who deserves frankness, and I will
bo utterly and absolutely frank with you. 1
MVo dono very wrong- In behaving as 1
have done. I had no right, no jnstidoatlon.
for it. and I bog you to forgive me—humbly I
bog It on my knees;" and bo knelt before mo.
t I waa bewildered and pained beyond measure.
I thought I know not what, but a tissue of wild
absurdities ruohod through my brain to account
for his words—anything rather than think ha
j old not loto mo.
i “With many women this confession would bo
| imuocosaary,’’-he wont on. . “You aro genuine
ana simnlo, ana attach a real meaning to every
I word and act, because you do not yourself apeak
or act without moaning. How can I, then, part
I from you without asking your forgiveness fop
what I have said and dono ?”
“Part from mel" I oxoloimod, holding
I ?» s*y hands to bun ;ho had risen now. “On
Mr. Lawrence, let ns be frank with ono another,
iherois no need to part. Do you think your
poverty is any barrier between us ? It is but an
added bond. Can I not work too ? And wb will
loam to think alike whore we now differ. Why
should we part ? Wo lovo each other. Why
should wo not marry ? What can part us buV
our own wills ? I lovo you, you know it, and I
J think you lovo mo 5 at least lam sure I could
teach you to lovo me." He stood while I spoke,
his anna hanging by his sides. What morel
said I hardly know. I think—l am sum. Indeed
—I told him, standing there, how I loved him.
I I felt I must speak It once to ono human
being. A groat foresight came to me 5 I seemed
to see my life stretching before mo, long, lonely,
I desolate; no other lovo like this could come,'
full well I knew that, and I could not enter oa
that dreary path without salting free my soul.
I Yea, I spoke out to him. Words of power they
wore—power, and fire, and longing. Perhaps
I alone, of all women, have told a man of my
love whoa I know It to bo hopeless. My hops
had died when ho first spoke. Hdd ho loved
mo, ho.had spokou otherwise. That I was
woman enough to see; but if It ho unwomanly
to fool in every pulse-throb tho need ol
©sponsion, to know that I. should dio 01.
suppressed passion, tenderness, love, 11
I did not speak it all, did not toll him
once how X loved him, how 1 could have lived hla
servant, his slave, happy and content—how bU
smile seemed tho sun and his caresses heaven to
mo—how I was hungry with tholmngerof ray very
soul to spend on him tho garnered treasure of
my heart,—if this be unwomanly, I was indeed
uusoxod. I seemed exalted out of myself, and
full of powor. *
Ho hoard mo. and it moved him. Ho onoko
again when I had finished. He had not lifted
bis eyes to mine, and did not thon. Ho said, “ I
1 c P.M Id “any you: It would be the worst pos
siblo thing for both of us. Your life would bo
miserable—mino most wretched. You musl
seothat thoro aro other things in lifo bo
aides loro, and- other things which influ-,
once its happiness. Everything would separate
us except our personal affinity. Our education,
our ideas, beliefs, our past lives, our aims for
tho future, make a gulf between us. Wo could
never bridge it.” Ho paused.
I laughed aloud : ho looked at me thon In sur
prise. “ I laugh." said I, “because lace how
absurd it was to fancy that you loved mo. A
bridge between us 1 If you lovod me as I love
you, our lovo would turn water Into land, moll
mountains into plains: we would cross dry-shod
to one another.”
Do you love me so ?” ho said, his blue eyoa
gloaming, and making a stop toward me. I had
powor. enough to make him feel, and feel
strongly, but that was not enough.
“No," I said, “Mr. Lawrence, you tako
nothing from me now: I can give nothing
now.” *
“But If I want all?” ho said.
* I laughed again. “ But you do not,” I said.
I Lave told you I lovo you, and would marry
you. You cannot, you say. Then that ends all
between us. I lovo you too much to be able to
give you only wbat you givo mo.”
“Wo cannot marry.” he repeated: “it would
bo ruin to both of us.
“Go away I” I said ; “ X would rather bo
alone." I was spent, and felt feoblo and weak.
Lot me toll you, first, that I admire you, es
teem you, Infinitely ; lot mo say this before I
go ; and you will think of mo kindly.” Ho said
this pleadlnglv.
I looked at him wondoringly. Did ho not ye\
hnow how much I lovod him ? Mv courage and
pride were ebbing fast away. 'Faintly! said.
Before you go kneel down in front of mo, and
lot me touch vour forehead with my lips.” Ho
did so, and I bent forward and took his head in'
both my hands and kissed it. Somehow as I did it
I thestrangothoughtcaraotome, tbatif Ihadevor -
j had a son, just so would 1 have kissed his head.
» JIM a y° arDln 6 fooling, with such tenderness
in it that my heart seemed dissolving. Many
times I kissed it and bold it, and thon, “ Good
by, my only love,” I said. “ I could bavo loved
you very well.”
Hla eyes wore wot with tears as ho raised bU
head, “ I shall never forgot you ; you aro
nobleness Itself,” ho said. “ God bless and
proopor y° u ,.Miaa Linton I” Thon ho went.
That is all, all, and life Is whore it was a month
ago 5 only, “ I wear ray rue with a difference.”
Ho was my Inferior. I was higher and nobler
and purer than ho, but I loved him, and the
greatest Joy I could know would have boon to
load my hfo with him. So It is over, and this
book had boat bo put away. I will go bock to
my old Ufo, and eoe what I can make of it. I
amitlad to have known what lovo meant: I
shall bo gladder after a while, whon this aoho is
over. If he could hut have loved mo as X loved
him—lf he could 1 But ho could not, and if was
not to bo. I must learn to be again a strong*
minded woman, 0
LETTER FROM lIBNRT LA.WBENOB TO QEOROS XUK*<
KINO.
Dear Georg* : I’m off for Europe to-morrow
Iboluyecm-e a man and broke tho whob», thins
off. Sho behaved like a man, too, told mo how
much sho loved rao, and thon accepted tho poni-
Uon. I feel like a girl who has Jilted a follow,
and It a a very poor way to feol, Novor flirt with
a strong-minded woman. 1 believe sho cared
f ? r iTO.^ d * ItWuls wy likely whon I'm 50 I
snail think I was a fool not to navo braved it out
and married her. I’m sure if X don't think it.
tuon, I shall when I roach tho next world j bu'
then, llko the girl in Browning's poem, “r’„o
will pass, nor turn her face." ~“ f l
I feel very blue, and I think I'd bs*% flr „ a i,
Alice to marry me, Yours, „ H. L.
—The klo Nnpolaim XU. nr-.J haa . u -.,_
taulratlon for 1, s rel«Hvo 3»w™fColSo“X
Pari, oorro.pmulmit of fto MauobS Guard.
Prluoo Imperial, lUon
. old, aebod hie father,
: What lc tu*j 'ulffo'xuco between an accident anti
a ralaforhine? 14 If,” replied the Emperor,.
your cousin fell into tbo Seine, that would be
•u accident j, if any oua pulled bito out, that
WQuid.b^^ortw»e*’V
11

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