Class 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
THE ADOPTION 
 AND OTHER SKETCHES 
 
Harry IvORENzo Chapin, M.D. 
 
THE ADOPTION 
 
 AND OTHER SKETCHES 
 POEMS AND PLAYS 
 
 BY 
 
 Harry Lorenzo Chapin, M.D. 
 
 <Bi)a|nii 
 
 Privately printed for the author in 
 
 an edition of three hundred copies 
 
 August, jpop 
 
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 ,H35A 
 
 : ]o1- 
 
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 Copyright, 1909 
 
 BY 
 
 H. L. CHAPIN 
 
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 190P 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface . . . . 
 
 9 
 
 Autobiography 
 
 . 11 
 
 Prefatory Note to "The Adoption" 
 
 17 
 
 The Adoption 
 
 19 
 
 Other Sketches 
 
 
 Infinite Love 
 
 . n 
 
 The Astecs And The Lost Atlantis 
 
 102 
 
 The Napoleon Dynasty 
 
 105 
 
 An Epitome Of Four Deceivers 
 
 109 
 
 Poems 
 
 
 Our Needs 
 
 121 
 
 Noble Deeds ' . 
 
 121 
 
 The Past .... 
 
 . 122 
 
 The Profligate Son . 
 
 122 
 
 Life Not All In Vain 
 
 123 
 
 Death Must Come 
 
 123 
 
 Earth's Necropolis 
 
 124 
 
 Age ... . 
 
 124 
 
 The Ax . . . . 
 
 125 
 
 My Home Of Youthful Days 
 
 125 
 
 Death Is King 
 
 126 
 
 A Celestial Trial 
 
 127 
 
 On Leaving Home 
 
 128 
 
 While Looking At Raphael's Madonna 
 
 129 
 
 The Earth's Greatness 
 
 129 
 
 The Benediction 
 
 130 
 
 Man— How Small, How Weak 
 
 131 
 
 Conquest Of Infinite Love 
 
 132 
 
 Cedar Point . . 
 
 133 
 
 Pleasure .... 
 
 134 
 
 Each Plays Its Part . 
 
 135 
 
 'Tis All With Thee . 
 
 136 
 
 Life Philosophical 
 
 137 
 
 Ordination 
 
 138 
 
 Christmas Eve 
 
 139 
 
 Sisters Nineveh 
 
 140 
 
6 CO 
 
 NTENT 
 
 s 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Poems — Cont. 
 
 Fragments . . . . .141 
 
 "Barkis Is WilUng" . 
 
 
 
 142 
 
 Reverence 
 
 
 
 142 
 
 This Bleak, Sad Earth 
 
 
 
 143 
 
 The Ocean's Necropolis 
 
 
 
 143 
 
 We Make Our God . 
 
 
 
 144 
 
 Godfrey's Christian Crusade 
 
 
 
 144 
 
 A Mother's Voice 
 
 
 
 147 
 
 The Birds . 
 
 
 
 
 148 
 
 Could I But Dream 
 
 
 
 
 149 
 
 Abnormal Dreams 
 
 
 
 
 150 
 
 The Castle 
 
 
 
 
 150 
 
 Fragment 
 
 
 
 
 151 
 
 To Mother . 
 
 
 
 
 151 
 
 Ode To The Twentieth Century 
 
 
 
 152 
 
 Toys . 
 
 
 
 153 
 
 Let Minutes Be Hours 
 
 
 
 153 
 
 Think Not Of The Past 
 
 
 
 154 
 
 The Clock . 
 
 
 
 154 
 
 To Mother . 
 
 
 
 155 
 
 The Cause I'll Leave Untold 
 
 
 
 156 
 
 Von Kenell 
 
 
 
 . 157 
 
 All Is Divine 
 
 
 
 158 
 
 Three Score Years Of Bliss 
 
 
 
 . 159 
 
 Music 
 
 
 
 . 159 
 
 My World . 
 
 
 
 . 160 
 
 Never Late . 
 
 
 
 . 161 
 
 You Know The Rest . 
 
 
 
 161 
 
 A Waltz Song 
 
 
 
 162 
 
 Death Of A Child 
 
 
 
 . 163 
 
 I Wonder . 
 
 
 
 164 
 
 P1.AYS 
 
 
 
 
 Treva 
 
 
 
 169 
 
 The Man Behind The S 
 
 screen 
 
 
 
 188 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Portrait of Harry Lorenzo Chapin, M.D. Frontispiece 
 
 Coat of Arms of the Chapin Family Title vignette 
 
PREFACE 
 
 In compiling my poems and stories, I do it to 
 gratify my own desires, and not in the expectation 
 of any remuneration. 
 
 The reader while perusing my work, I hope will 
 not criticize too closely; if the metre or the diction 
 is not quite to his liking, I trust he will accept that 
 which pleases and pass by the remainder. If I am 
 not inspired by the muse and do not execute master- 
 pieces like others in the past, at least my whole 
 mind and soul for the last twenty years have been 
 assiduously devoted to study. 
 
 May the reader open this book in a spirit of for- 
 bearance rather than criticism. 
 
 As Pope said. 
 
 Help me to feel another's woe 
 
 To hide the faults I see 
 That mercy I to others show 
 
 That mercy show to me. 
 
I 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 I was born in Berlin Heights township, Erie 
 County, Ohio, November 13, 1872, the youngest of 
 four children. My parents of whom I am very 
 proud are both of good old Yankee blood. My 
 mother, Nancy S. Knight, was bom in Troy, Ohio, 
 and although she has attained the ripe age of 73 
 years, she is considered to be one of the most volum- 
 inous readers in the town of Milan, Ohio, where she 
 now resides. I owe her much gratitude for her vol- 
 unteered service of amanuensis since I lost my eye- 
 sight. I love to hear her read, and as I have often 
 told her, she seems to hear the lyre as the poet does 
 when he writes. 
 
 My father, Lorenzo S. Chapin, is the posterity of 
 Deacon Samuel Chapin, the Puritan who was the 
 founder of Springfield, Massachusetts. The name has 
 been invested with a coat of arms. My father was 
 an attorney-at-law, but practiced but a few years in 
 Mattoon, Illinois, after which he returned to West 
 Berlin and took up his residence at the old Chapin 
 Homestead, where my brothers and sister were born. 
 After having lived there a few years he purchased 
 
12 AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 what was known at that time as the Charles Hines 
 farm, where he Hved until he died, and where I was 
 born. This is a stately looking old home; the old 
 brick house and the large lawn in front with the 
 beautiful maple trees to embellish its general aspect 
 give the whole a romantic effect. I will always have 
 the tenderest regard for this home. I still can sit on 
 the front stone in my pensive mood and see the one 
 drive by that was the dearest to me of all the world, 
 who is now my wife. Her home being but a short 
 distance down the road made these surroundings 
 much more pleasing. 
 
 Since attending college at the Medical Department 
 of the Western Reserve University, three years, I 
 have spent the most of my time in travel, which has 
 been quite extensive. With the exception of two 
 countries, I have seen the entire world. These two 
 are Japan and Alaska, which myself and wife are to 
 visit this coming fall. I boast of having seen the 
 seven wonders of the world. The traditional seven 
 wonders are the Coliseum of Rome, the Colossus of 
 Rhodes, the Towers of Pharos of Alexandria, the 
 Temple of Karnack, Solomon's Temple of Jerusalem, 
 the Hanging Gardens of Babylon and the Pyramids 
 and Sphinx of Egypt. The most difficult to see of 
 these are the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. I was 
 twenty-nine and one-half days on a dromedary's back 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 13 
 
 going from Damascus, which is the oldest city in 
 the world to Babylon on the Euphrates River. I 
 have classed seven wonders of the world as natural 
 wonders and which I have visited. These are Niag- 
 ara Falls, Fingal's Cave, The Giant's Causeway, The 
 Maelstrom, Old Faithful Geyser in Yellowstone Park, 
 The Grand Canyon of the Colorado River in Ari- 
 zona, and the Garden of the Gods in Colorado. I 
 have also classed seven more wonders. I call them 
 the capricious wonders of the world. They are the 
 most wonderful of them all, at least I was so im- 
 pressed. They are the Mount of the Holy Cross, 
 Crater Lake, and its phantom ship on Mount Mazoma, 
 Oregon, Paradise Valley, and Ixtaccihuatl or the 
 Sleeping White Lady on the mountain with Popoc- 
 atepetl as sentinel at her side. The vocal Memnon 
 on the Nile that casts a vocal sound at sunrise. The 
 Rock of Faces of Lake George and a brook with 
 water running up hill in Yellowstone Park. They 
 were all of great interest. 
 
 On November 27, 1907, Thanksgiving Day, I 
 married Anna M. Fries, who was the widow of the 
 late Valentine Fries of Milan township, Milan, Erie 
 County, Ohio. After two years of romantic court- 
 ship, I married what I call "the idol of my soul and 
 the object of my affection," for I feel I have the 
 best woman in the world. Anna M. Crone was the 
 
14 AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 only daughter of a family of three, two brothers, 
 Charlie and Albert. She was born and reared in 
 Massillon, Ohio, the daughter of Mr. Frank Crone, 
 who was a dry goods merchant for many years in 
 Massillon, and is now making his home in Cleveland, 
 Ohio. Anna Fries Chapin is endowed with an extra- 
 ordinary amount of executive ability. She has car- 
 ried on and settled up the estate of her husband, 
 Valentine Fries, without help from any source. She 
 has increased the estate, rather than diminished it, 
 while she has been administratrix. She has also 
 planned her home where we now live with all of 
 the modem improvements of a city home. She has 
 also erected a mausoleum of Tunic architecture, 
 which is conceded to be one of the finest in the 
 United States as a family tomb. It has nine cata- 
 combs and cathedral glass under the rotunda with 
 the figure of the Resurrection thereon. The doors 
 are of bronze, and the tomb itself is built of the best 
 grade of sandstone with mosaic floor. She dedicated 
 this mausoleum to her husband, Valentine Fries, in 
 the year 1906, A. D., and his remains are now de- 
 posited there. 
 
 I feel it my duty to speak of Mr. Fries here, as 
 I owe him indirectly a great amount of gratitude. 
 I have been able to travel and enjoy a great amount 
 of pleasure, that otherwise I could not have had, had 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 15 
 
 it not been for the many years of hard toil that he 
 underwent that I am reaping benefit from to a cer- 
 tain degree. Many things that I am to do and have 
 done, I could not have done, had I not had the finan- 
 cial help from that source, tendered me by my wife. 
 Valentine Fries was born in Alsace-Lorraine, France, 
 of Huguenot parentage, and emigrated to this coun- 
 try when but a child. He became a drug clerk at 
 first and finally became sole owner of a grocery store 
 in Milan, Ohio. He saved a few thousand dollars 
 here and started to build ships on the Huron River 
 at Fries' Landing, which still bears his name. Here 
 is where he attained his enormous wealth. At one 
 time he owned thirty-six vessels on the Great Lakes. 
 He was a man of extraordinary business capacity 
 and also a man of veracity and integrity. 
 
 H. L. C. 
 
PREFATORY NOTE TO ADOPTION 
 
 This is a story that has been founded on actual 
 events to a great extent. I have had to alter and 
 add to these at different times, but on the whole it 
 is quite like the original happenings. 
 
 While I was in Bristol, England, I was taken 
 quite sick and compelled to go to the hospital. While 
 there, I was placed in a room with a patient who 
 was slowly dying. We became very friendly, and 
 he knowing his days were few, developed a spirit of 
 loquacity, which is unusual in patients of that type. 
 The life he had lived was one of great interest to 
 me. He felt like he must give vent to his pent up 
 emotions, so he related a wonderful romance of his 
 own experience. I became so interested I continued 
 calling upon him after leaving the hospital and until 
 he passed to a higher life. 
 
 He made one request of me, and that was to write 
 his romance in story form, informing me where I 
 could obtain proof that the anti-mortem statement 
 was true. To this request I gave my promise. 
 
 H. L. C. 
 
THE ADOPTION 
 
 Titus Hanlon was the only son of a well-to-do 
 English family; in other words, he was a Patrician. 
 His father had purchased an old manor which had 
 become somewhat dilapidated. Yet, being an enter- 
 prising, wide-awake man, he had improved this old 
 rustic manor to such an extent that it was one of 
 the most beautiful homes in Southern England. The 
 lawn, consisting of several acres, was embellished 
 with beds of flowers, shrubbery, and small artificial 
 lakes. There was also a vista of live oak trees from 
 the front drive, in the shape of a crest that led to 
 the side entrance of the house. The old house was 
 of colonial architecture. Eight fluted columns, with 
 gable bas-relief, met the eye from its fagade. 
 
 It was in this old, yet beautiful home, Titus first 
 saw the light of day. Titus on arriving at the age 
 of fourteen years, was sent to Oxford College, where 
 he acquired his literary education. He then desired 
 to study medicine, and his father sent him to the 
 continent for that purpose. 
 
 After devoting two years, with commendable as- 
 siduity, to the study of medicine at Vienna, for some 
 
20 THE ADOPTION 
 
 unknown reason he became melancholy and des- 
 pondent. 
 
 Titus had always suffered with periodical spells of 
 severe pains in his head, and it was during one of 
 these attacks he resorted to the use of morphine 
 for relief. This, as he had often said afterwards, 
 seemed to touch the spot. It not only relieved the 
 pain, but relieved him of all mental anguish. From 
 this on he became addicted to its use. Morphine, 
 though being a powerful narcotic, acted on him as a 
 stimulant. It seemed to change his whole being from 
 this time on. 
 
 Titus attended school one 3^ear more at Vienna, 
 and then gave up the profession forever. He finally 
 drifted back to his old home in Clifton, and the time 
 seeming to pass slowly he took to reading. 
 
 He was six feet in height, with dark hair and dark 
 brown eyes, and a prominent nose. He possessed a 
 very classical face. 
 
 It was on a Sunday afternoon, Titus sat in a ham- 
 mock in his father's front yard. It was in the month 
 of June and all of Nature's environments were at 
 their most charming period of existence. 
 
 Titns opened a book and proceeded to read. It 
 was the complete works of Lord Byron. He began 
 to read Childe Harold, at first with but little en- 
 thusiasm, but as he continued reading, he became 
 
THE ADOPTION 21 
 
 enraptured and would read devotedly. Each day he 
 would spend in the perusal of Byron's poems, until 
 he could repeat many of them. This alone made him 
 fond of literature. 
 
 From this time on he read all of the poetical works 
 he could get. They had so entranced him that he 
 at once became inspired to write. But, he thought 
 he must be more cosmopolitan, must know more of 
 the world, must travel as Byron did, to write a 
 Childe Harold of his own. 
 
 In November of that same year he left Clifton for 
 a tour around the world unaccompanied. Titus was 
 away a year and a half. In that time he had ac- 
 quired much knowledge and worldly wisdom. His 
 habits being good, with the one exception, he was 
 much improved in many ways by his trip abroad. 
 
 On arriving home he spent much of his time in 
 reading and waiting. One afternoon he was sitting 
 on the crest of a large rock, what is known in Clifton 
 as the Downs. The Dow-ns is a high level stretch 
 of ground with many trees scattered about, wdth 
 drives and walks cut here and there, and at its western 
 edge there is a steep precipice with perhaps a drop 
 of three hundred feet. At the bottom of this declivity 
 runs a branch of the River Severn. This affords a 
 very beautiful and romantic scene. It was on a rock 
 at the edge of this precipice that Titus was sitting 
 
22 THE ADOPTION 
 
 one afternoon in autumn, when the maples were 
 dropping their seared, but beautiful leaves. A young 
 lady was also sitting on the edge of this same rock. 
 She was rather tall, with brown hair and dark eyes. 
 She was very prepossessing in appearance, of a lit- 
 erary turn of mind, and in many ways like Titus. 
 
 As they were sitting there admiring the panoramic 
 view of the valley, Titus abruptly spoke to her of 
 its beauty, she at once replying with a kindly smile 
 expressing her admiration. Almost simultaneously 
 they saw love in each other's eyes. It was not long 
 until they had become very much interested in each 
 other. After they had spent several hours together 
 and parted to meet the next day at the same place, 
 they both went their way with love-gladdened hearts. 
 
 Her name w'as Mabel Crawford. She was an 
 orphan and at this time was making her home with 
 an elderly aunt. Mabel was endowed with many 
 qualities that were admirable. She was very pretty, 
 mentally quick, and had a natural aptness she was 
 anxious to cultivate as best her scant means would 
 allow. She played the piano and sang very sweetly, 
 and was fond of literature, especially poetical works. 
 Her aunt gave her a small allowance for her clothes 
 and a musical education, which she used to good 
 advantage. 
 
 Mabel and Titus met the next day at the appointed 
 
THE ADOPTION 23 
 
 time and place. From then on, every pleasant after- 
 noon they could be seen together, and seemed to 
 know of nothing else that was going on in the world. 
 They were truly each other's affinity. There was 
 love at first sight. She was the idol of his soul and 
 he was hers. Many missives of love were sent in 
 verse and prose by the Royal mail to each other. 
 
 Often they would drive through the parks, Mabel 
 holding the reins and driving tandem. She loved 
 horses so well that Titus would take pains to get the 
 best stepping and most graceful appearing horses. 
 They would often drive many miles into the country. 
 They would take their lunch with them and stop at 
 some shady nook and rest. 
 
 It was on these occasions that Titus would make 
 overtures of love to Mabel. On one of these sweet 
 days before he had told her he loved her, he said, 
 "Mabel, I have a secret to tell you. One, I think, 
 that will be of much interest to you. It is truly a 
 secret, for no one but myself knows of it." They 
 were eating lunch on the green sod in the shade. As 
 he was talking to her, she was in a very pensive 
 mood, wondering what the secret could be. Her 
 cheeks were slightly flushed, and locks of her dark 
 brown tresses were blown by the breeze down over 
 her sweet face, which she would unconsciously re- 
 place or brush aside. 
 
24 THE ADOPTION 
 
 "Mabel, can you not guess my secret? Can you 
 not read my mind? Does not each and every feature 
 of my face depict what I am about to tell you?" 
 
 He pressed himself nearer to Mabel, each looking 
 into the other's eyes. 
 
 "Mabel, can you not guess?'* 
 
 Mabel could, but wanted to hear the words spoken 
 by those cupid-bowed lips. There was silence for 
 a moment. 
 
 "Mabel, I love you, I love you with all my soul,'* 
 he said, as he placed his arms about her and pressed 
 her to his heart with many declarations of love. 
 
 The purest, sweetest and almost Infinite love en- 
 tered into their romance at this point. It was at its 
 zenith. Where now could it go? It could go no 
 higher. So, like the shell shot from a cannon it will 
 rise swiftly, but after it has spent its force, must 
 fall in its downward path. 
 
 One evening when Titus' father and mother had 
 gone to the city of Bath to visit friends for a few 
 days, they left Titus to take charge of the home. 
 He was there alone, with the exception of the butler. 
 The idea came to him to invite Mabel there at this 
 opportune moment to see his home. As soon as his 
 parents had departed he jumped into the runabout 
 and brought her to the house. They spent the even- 
 ing in the drawing room, playing, singing and look- 
 
THE ADOPTION 25 
 
 ing over the photographs of Titus' ancestors and 
 friends, also reading the genealogy of the H anions. 
 
 Titus was always under the influence of morphine 
 in the evening. Morphine sharpens the memory of 
 many, and stimulates the senses, except the moral, to 
 an almost abnormal acuteness. 
 
 As darkness fell, Mabel expressed a desire to go 
 to her home, but Titus insisted upon her remaining. 
 
 "I will go, I must go. Have you no regard for 
 my wishes? I will go, if I must go alone in the 
 dark," she said as she rose, but Titus was reluctant 
 and obdurate. Going to her he clasped her hands 
 in his, and although she cried with all the emotion 
 she could muster up, it was of no avail, for Titus 
 would not relent. 
 
 "You must stay here with me. I love you, I love 
 you madly," he said. 
 
 Man always kills the thing he loves, 
 
 By all let this be heard; 
 Some do it with a bitter look, 
 
 Some with a flattering word. 
 The coward does it with a kiss, 
 
 The brave man with a sword. 
 
 But it was love under the stimulus of morphine. 
 
 "Titus, if you love me as you say you do, take 
 me home, I implore you." 
 
 At this moment a new idea came to him. He 
 asked her to have a small glass of wine, and then he 
 
26 THE ADOPTION 
 
 would take her home. Although distasteful and for- 
 eign to her bringing-up, she consented, that she might 
 then be escorted home as she wished. Titus excused 
 himself and leaving the room procured a glass of 
 wine into which he placed a small quantity of a 
 reddish powdered substance, filling a glass also for 
 himself. He brought them in on a tray, and giving 
 her the glass first prepared, they both drank. He 
 then told her to sit down for a moment, until he got 
 his evening overcoat, which was upstairs. Titus went 
 out, but returning just at the proper moment saw her 
 as she rose to her feet and' almost swooned. He 
 caught her as she fell back and carried her gently to 
 a davenport nearby. 
 
 Titus loved Mabel too well to harm her in any way 
 he thought was really harmful, but, in his intoxicated 
 state of mind, he thought that he would marry her, 
 in any event. 
 
 By morning the morphine had worn ofif and Titus 
 was himself again. He meditated while Mabel still 
 slept how he could make restitution for the past. A 
 piteous sob aroused him from his dreaming. Awak- 
 ened, the reality of it all flashed upon the girl. Mabel 
 was polite, and she knew it was not best to expose 
 Titus, for that would expose herself as well. Titus 
 broke down and confessed to her that he would kill 
 
THE ADOPTION 27 
 
 himself before he would do again willingly the in- 
 justice he had done her. 
 
 ''Dear Mabel," he said, 'T love you; believe what 
 I tell you, when I say that if I had been in my 
 normal mind, I would never even have thought of 
 evil. But, dear Mabel, I am addicted to the use of 
 morphine, and it takes away every virtue I have. I 
 bare my arms before you. See w^here I have injected 
 the poison for years. I take it in the evening, and 
 at that time, until last evening, I have never been 
 with you. Now, Mabel, I humbly appeal to you for 
 your forgiveness, for I love you and want to marry 
 you. Do forgive me." 
 
 Mabel thought for a moment, tears came to her 
 eyes, for his confession had touched her heart and 
 the hand she would raise to strike, she presented, to 
 show in her grasp of his, her unchanging fealty. 
 
 "Titus, I love you, I will love you still. I am 
 your affianced wife, and now you seem very near 
 to me." 
 
 Titus took her in his arms at this, and tears rolled 
 down his cheeks. 
 
 'T am a brute to do as I have done, but you will 
 forgive me, Mabel, you are noble and liberal ; there 
 is nothing narrow in your makeup. I will always 
 love you and stand by you. As you say, I feel that 
 you are very near to me. 
 
28 THE ADOPTION 
 
 "Oh, Mabel, if I could express my thoughts as 
 they came to me this morning while you were in 
 that beatific mood, let me call it! The eudemonic 
 pleasure that came over me as I gazed upon that 
 sleeping face, what did it remind me of — its contour, 
 its calm innocence reminded me of the poet's touch- 
 ing lines :'* 
 
 And on that cheek and on that brow, 
 
 So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 
 The smiles that win, the tints that glow. 
 
 But tell of days in goodness spent, 
 With mind at peace with all below, 
 
 A heart whose love is innocent. 
 
 After breakfast Titus took Mabel for an auto ride 
 and left her at her home. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Titus continued his visits for many wxeks after 
 that eventful evening. He was always punctual and 
 sincere from the first. On Christmas eve, Titus was 
 driving with Mabel, as he had done many times be- 
 fore. On this occasion, Mabel was in a despondent 
 mood, and few words passed her lips. It was worry- 
 ing Titus so much, that he could hardly refrain from 
 asking her why she was so down-hearted. Upon his 
 so doing, she made no reply, but in a moment broke 
 down with emotion. Titus could not imagine for 
 
THE ADOPTION 29 
 
 the life of him what could be the matter. He placed 
 his arms about her and begged her to tell him why 
 she was so sad at heart, which was so out of the 
 ordinary with her. Mabel looked up at him with a 
 peculiar expression on her face. Like a flash, with- 
 out a word uttered by Mabel, Titus surmised w^hat 
 the trouble w^as. 
 
 **We must marry at once," Mabel said. 
 
 "But the world will know even then," said he. 
 
 "What will we do, what will we do. The world 
 mu.st not know this," she wailed. 
 
 "I know what we can do," replied Titus. "I will 
 send you to London. You can tell your aunt you 
 are studying music and studying to be a nurse at the 
 same time. The child can and will be cared for by 
 the Sisters' Home. It will be adopted by some good 
 family, and then you can return home and we can be 
 married, and the world will not be any the wiser." 
 
 This was not pleasantly received by Mabel, but it 
 was her only alternative. 
 
 Titus felt the blow as much as Mabel, for he really 
 idolized Mabel, and did not want to be deprived of 
 her company, but arrangements must be made at once. 
 
 The following Monday Titus gave Mabel the neces- 
 sary funds to defray all expenses, and she started for 
 London. 
 
 Mabel was raised and educated in a convent until 
 
30 THE ADOPTION 
 
 she was sixteen years of age, consequently she was 
 a Catholic. The last words that were spoken between 
 Mabel and Titus were to the effect that when the 
 child was born, it should bear the Christian name of 
 Titus, if a male child ; if a female, it should bear the 
 name of Mabel. This Mabel promised faithfully 
 to do. 
 
 A month before the child was born Titus received 
 a letter from Mabel's aunt. She knew they had been 
 keeping company, and had heard something of their 
 relations. In this letter to Titus she asked him to 
 come to her home, saying that she wished to see him 
 in regard to this matter of Mabel's being in London. 
 
 As I have said before, one who is addicted to the 
 morphine habit has neither will power nor courage. 
 When trouble comes upon them they run away from 
 it. Titus, on reading this letter, took on that itinerate 
 vacillating habit he had once a few years before. As 
 much as he disliked to leave Mabel, he could see no 
 other way to do. He w^ell knew that if his parents 
 were ever informed of this he would not only be dis- 
 inherited, but it w^ould be the death of his mother. 
 
 Titus prepared at once for his long voyage to Mel- 
 bourne, Australia. This would perhaps be the last 
 time he would ever look into his father's face, and 
 he felt that now he must desert Mabel, he could 
 never have courage to face her or let her know where 
 
THE ADOPTION 31 
 
 he had gone, so this made it doubly hard for him to 
 bear. The time for him to sail had arrived. He 
 bade his parents goodbye, and suppressed the tears 
 with difficulty. He must misrepresent to his parents 
 by telling them he was going only to Scotland, or 
 they would have remonstrated about his going to 
 Australia. 
 
 So, after taking a last look at the old home that 
 was so near and dear to his boyish memory, he left 
 for Liverpool, from where he sailed away from all 
 he loved in this bleak, cold world, not knowing if 
 he would ever return. The last thing he did before 
 going on board was to drop a letter to his dear 
 Mabel, telling her what he intended doing, which 
 letter was as follows: 
 
 My Dearest Mabel: On the bulwark of the ship that takes 
 me from you, I write this note. I am compelled to write you 
 this cruel letter. Your aunt threatened me and I have com- 
 pletely lost my courage. I can see no other way but to leave 
 these Albion shores forever. Mabel, how mean I have always 
 been to you. It is a wonder you can still care for me. I can- 
 not tell you where I am going, as I really do not know my- 
 self what my ultimate destination will be. It matters little to 
 me now which point of the compass I pursue; there is neither 
 home, love nor felicity left for me. I am merely staying be- 
 cause I cannot die. I do not consider I am living any more 
 since I must leave you. My prayers will always be for you, 
 dear Mabel, and I only hope you will have the brightest future 
 that a woman can have. Name the baby as we arranged, unless 
 Providence will intercede. We probably will meet no more, 
 
32 THE ADOPTION 
 
 or hear from each other, as I feel that now I am not worthy 
 of you, or to ever write you, for it would only keep you in 
 sorrow. 
 
 With all the love that a young heart can muster, and hoping 
 God will have compassion on us both, I will bid you an ever- 
 lasting goodbye. 
 July 10, Titus Hanlon. 
 
 As the ship was passing Land's End, which is the 
 last point of EngHsh soil you can see of Great Britain, 
 as the vessel circles around to enter the end of the 
 English channel, Titus felt a great deal as Emperor 
 Napoleon did when he was on his way to exile on 
 St. Helena. As he was off the coast of France, he 
 could be heard to say beneath his breath, while he 
 was sitting in solitude at the aft end of the ship, 
 "France, France, I shall never see the land of heroes 
 more." 
 
 Titus felt the same, as he was on his trip of self- 
 exile. 
 
 As the ship sailed away the following lines came 
 to mind: 
 
 Oh, English soil, will I never see thee more, 
 
 Or will I never miss my mother's cheek; 
 The rest is still more dear how I adore 
 
 Through other climes I seek, my heart is sore. 
 
 Mabel received this letter of extreme sorrow. At 
 first she was delighted to receive a letter from the 
 only one in the world she cared for, but as soon as 
 the missive was opened, and she read its contents, she 
 
THE ADOPTION 33 
 
 fell in a faint, and had to be revived by one of the 
 Sisters. 
 
 "What is the matter, dear lady," asked one of the 
 Sisters when she recovered from her fainting spell. 
 
 "Oh, nothing, nothing. I — I — Oh, my God, my 
 God, do not ask me, do not ask me. Just leave me 
 alone for a while, as I wish to remain in quiet." 
 
 The Sisters made their sarto into other apartments, 
 and left Mabel to her self. The bulwark of a ship 
 was on her mind still. All she could think of now 
 was a ship — a ship taking Titus away. For several 
 days this was a hallucination with Mabel. However, 
 she at length was able to continue reading the letter. 
 It is useless to tell you the sorrow she underwent 
 when she had read the contents of that fateful letter. 
 
 Mabel passed the time in reading until the birth of 
 her child. When the child was born Mabel was 
 much pleased to know it was male, for she thought 
 how much this would please Titus if he ever could 
 know that he had a son by his name. This child 
 would perpetuate the name of Titus Vespatius Han- 
 Ion, one of Titus Hanlon's illustrious ancestors, who 
 fought with Bruce of Scotland, and was a field mar- 
 shal of much valor. It would please Titus so much 
 to know that the child was a male, as he was so 
 proud of his ancestral genealogy. 
 
 In due time, the child was christened Titus Ves- 
 
34 THE ADOPTION 
 
 patius Hanlon, as Titus had wished, and Mabel had 
 promised she would do. The child had a high fore- 
 head, was wide through the temples, and would, 
 when developed, have a large nose. His eyes were 
 brown like his father's, and no doubt his hair would 
 be dark when he arrived at his father's age. 
 
 Mabel loved this child, for it was all she had now. 
 Its father had gone, the one whom she loved of all 
 in the world, so she naturally felt greatly attached to 
 the child. Mabel remained at the home three weeks 
 after the birth of her baby boy, but at the end of 
 this time must give up the last and only thing she 
 loved and cherished in this world. This she was 
 compelled to do, because if she took the child home 
 with her to her aunt, it would disgrace her forever, 
 and if she should want to go with her little treasure 
 to some country where no one would know her, it 
 would be impossible, for she had no means to support 
 herself or the child. Consequently, she was compelled 
 to leave the little orphan at the home, and she herself 
 went back to the home of her aunt. 
 
 On entering the home of her aunt Mabel was re- 
 ceived rather coldly and avoided. Her aunt seemed 
 to be full of apathy and indifference, until it was 
 more than Mabel could bear. She felt she was now 
 alone in the world without a friend or money. Mabel 
 broke down and wept before her aunt, and asked her 
 
THE ADOPTION 35 
 
 why she did not reciprocate her affection as she once 
 did, and why was it that she was so cold. 
 
 *'Mabel, is it true that you have been away study- 
 ing to be a professional nurse, and in the meantime 
 taking music?" asked her aunt. ''Mabel, answer me 
 this without falsifying, and do so at once. I have 
 been able to gather some very incriminating evidence 
 against you. I want to know if you were not with 
 Titus Hanlon the night you were away from your 
 room nearly a year ago. Hanlon's butler said you 
 were there with Titus, and no one else was in the 
 house but you and he, except the butler. Now, an- 
 swer me this, and tell me the truth, or you must seek 
 a home elsewhere." 
 
 At this Mabel placed her arms about her aunt's 
 neck and told her she was decoyed there by Titus to 
 see their house, and she was kept there against her 
 will, which provoked her very much. 
 
 *'Yes, you must have been greatly provoked when 
 the following day you were brought home by Titus 
 himself in his auto," said her aunt. 
 
 "Yes, but auntie, you do not understand. I did 
 not dare get his enmity. I was afraid it would reflect 
 upon me much more than it did, by doing what I 
 have just related to you." 
 
 "You told me you were going to stay all night 
 with your friend Marie Thomas," said her aunt. 
 
36 THE ADOPTION 
 
 "Auntie, I did expect to, as much as I expect to 
 arise tomorrow morning, but Titus kept me and how 
 could I stay at Marie's? I could not tell or confess 
 to you at that time, dear auntie. I assure you that 
 nothing was done wrong by me going to London, as 
 I have not been there with Titus, for he has left the 
 country, as you know.'* 
 
 After she had done her best by subterfuge, she 
 convinced her aunt that she was as good a girl as 
 ever, and her aunt took her and pressed her to her 
 breast and forgave her. Mabel felt a great deal 
 better now that she had won back the love of her 
 aunt. She knew now that she had at least one friend. 
 
 During the six months that elapsed from this time, 
 Mabel would visit London and go to the home and 
 see her dear child, all the time hoping and wishing 
 and praying that Titus would write to her, so that 
 she could tell him of her dear child, but there was 
 never a letter or a word from him. 
 
 It is customary in England, at all maternity homes, 
 after six months, to give the children to some reliable 
 married couple that will take good care of and edu- 
 cate them. They advertised for a foster parent for 
 this child, Titus, Jr. The advertisement was an- 
 swered by many, one of whom was a Holland Dutch 
 couple from Manchester, England. They lived on a 
 small farm out of Manchester, sometimes called Villi- 
 
THE ADOPTION 37 
 
 tacks by the English. Their names were John and 
 Lena Van Rensler, good old Holland Dutch stock. 
 They would not adopt the child, as John Van Rensler 
 was too conscientious a man for that. He said at 
 the home, 'T will take de dear chile and love him and 
 take good care of him, but I cannot adopt him, for 
 if he's fadder or mudder would ever want him back, 
 I would not keep him from them." 
 
 When the child was christened, one of the Sisters 
 placed a scapular about his neck, with his full name 
 written on it in indelible ink. It is also customary 
 in England in these homes, not to let either the 
 father or the mother know where the child is or who 
 has taken it, although they keep a record of it them- 
 selves. Mr. and Mrs. Van Rensler took the little 
 orphan to raise without adoption. The child was 
 in good safe hands now, and would be well taken 
 care of. They soon became as much attached to it 
 as if it was their own. 
 
 Mabel was now living with her aunt on White 
 Ladies' Road, Clifton, England. It nearly killed her 
 to part with her child forever. The day the child 
 was taken, Mabel was in one room in the home and 
 the Van Renslers in the other. Titus, her little one, 
 was brought to her for the last time just before it 
 was given to the Van Renslers. Knowing that she 
 would not see her dear one again, words could not 
 
38 THE ADOPTION 
 
 picture her feelings of this last parting. She pressed 
 her child to her breast and kissed it until it was 
 nearly smothered with motherly affection. Crying 
 and pleading with the Omnipotent God of Heaven to 
 arrange that she might see her child again, the little 
 one was taken from her by the attendant, after she 
 had taken one of its little shoes and placed it in her 
 skirt pocket. The child was carried down a corridor 
 to the apartment where Mr. and Mrs. Van Rensler 
 were waiting to receive it and take it home with them. 
 
 After this sad parting, the Van Renslers with their 
 little charge, went to the train which bore them to 
 Manchester where the little boy was to have his future 
 home unconscious of the heart he had broken. 
 
 Mabel, this same evening, went back to her home 
 in Clifton with her aunt. If she only could have told 
 her aunt all, if she could have confessed the whole 
 thing to her, how much relief it would have afforded 
 her. If she could have done so with perfect impunity, 
 she would have, on her return this very evening told 
 it all to her aunt, for Mabel wanted someone to con- 
 fide in, but she had no one. She, at this very mo- 
 ment, came very near telling the story as it was, but 
 she was afraid her aunt would denounce her for life, 
 as well as reprimand her for her past conduct. She 
 could not muster up the courage to tell her, so Mabel 
 had to find from now on, solace in her sadness as 
 
THE ADOPTION 39 
 
 best she could. She spent many sleepless nights, 
 dreaming of her lover and her baby, of whose where- 
 abouts she knew not. 
 
 Can you imagine the plight of this young woman? 
 Can you imagine the sorrow she was undergoing at 
 this time? It was much worse than death — loving, 
 living and lasting. The world was beautiful to her, 
 yet she hated it; life was feverish, yet she clung to 
 it; death was rest, yet she feared it. If she had 
 dared, she would have taken her life. She was a 
 Catholic, and wished to go to Heaven, if she con- 
 fessed all her sins. She well knew if she committed 
 suicide she could not receive the last sacrament of 
 extreme unction, or make the act of contrition, and 
 this is what kept her from doing away with herself. 
 
 Titus had long since arrived at Melbourne, Aus- 
 tralia, and was living upon what little money he had 
 brought with him. He would not wTite home for 
 money or tell his father or mother where he was. He 
 had changed his name to Henry Hamilton, instead 
 of Titus V. Hanlon. His mother had advertised and 
 solicited his whereabouts for many months without 
 avail. She loved her only boy, and he loved her, but 
 he was determined to never return or let his parents 
 know of him again. It was not long until his mother 
 went into a decline and died. This was too much 
 for the father to bear, so shortly after, he succumbed 
 
40 THE ADOPTION 
 
 to pneumonia and died. Titus saw by the London 
 News that both of his parents were dead. Troubles 
 never come singly. Mr. Hanlon had financial re- 
 verses, and had lost all he had, there being enough 
 left to bury him, and that was all. Titus knew this 
 from the London papers, so he made no attempt to 
 claim the patrimony of his parents, for he knew there 
 was little, if anything, left. This so disheartened the 
 boy that he commenced to increase the dose of mor- 
 phine each evening. This would render him uncon- 
 scious of his troubles to a greater or less extent. He 
 would not write to Mabel, as much as he loved her, 
 and as much as he cared to know of the birth of the 
 child. He had lost all his manly courage and was 
 on his way down to destruction, although there was 
 one hope in Titus' case, and that w^as, he did not 
 drink strong drink, nor was he licentious. Tobacco 
 and morphine were his only vices. He roomed in a 
 small bungalow on the coast, where the view of the 
 sea would sometimes hold his pensive thoughts for 
 hours at a time. Here he would often sit while the 
 sun was dipping its crest into the western sea and 
 threw its refracted sheen across the waters, as if to 
 lighten his soul. 
 
 Titus would write poems and think about what he 
 had left behind in England. His poems were full 
 of pathos, his topic, love. If Titus could have known 
 
THE ADOPTION 41 
 
 the child was a male and had been christened for him, 
 and that he favored his father so much in looks, 
 would he not have made haste and at once returned 
 to England? 
 
 Both Titus and Mabel were miserable at this time. 
 What solace could they have found in each other, 
 if they had been together with their child! But, no, 
 God has his ways. He had impregnated his mind 
 with the idea that he must remain away, though it 
 was crushing his heart to do it. 
 
 If all earth's gold were tendered me, 
 
 And I could choose, I'd tell 
 Take all the pelf, but give to me, 
 My love, my life, Mabel. 
 Love is a social heaven. It prevails in Omnipotence. Its 
 great Arcanum can be entered at will. The Jew, the Gen- 
 tile, the peer or peasant are aHke shaded by its canopy. It 
 softens the criminal's heart. It mitigates sorrow, it causes 
 the parent to propagate posterity. It opens the soul to eternal 
 bliss. It canonizes the saint. It cleanses the sullied. It 
 brought our Savior to redeem our souls with love and give 
 us life everlasting. 
 
 Mabel had, by this time, resumed her former habits 
 of living. Her aunt dressed her well, and she would 
 occasionally ride out into the park and often into the 
 country over the same roads that she and Titus 
 Hanlon had so often and so many times driven over. 
 She had now taken up music with all the assiduity at 
 her command. She was fond of music, and had 
 
42 THE ADOPTION 
 
 acquired great proficiency playing the piano. She 
 now displayed a great amount of skill. She seemed 
 to care but little for novels, except historical novels. 
 She would often take her pad and pencil and go out 
 upon the Downs and sit and compose, on the spot 
 where she first met Titus. She always seemed to 
 have a peculiar fondness for this spot. It would in- 
 spire her to write. The environment would bring 
 back memories of past reminiscences, and she would 
 find solace in meditating by the hour at this place. 
 
 Mabel was not looking for, nor did she even think 
 of ever meeting another man that would take the 
 place of Titus, but it is the unexpected that always 
 happens. It was at the same spot, one Sunday after- 
 noon, while sitting on the same stone, a gentleman's 
 hat was blown from his head and down a slight de- 
 clivity to this rock w^here she was sitting. As the 
 old saying goes, "It's an ill wind that blows nobody 
 good." Mabel stooped and picked up the hat and 
 volunteered to present it to its owner, who by that 
 time was near her to receive it and offer her his 
 thanks for her trouble. After he had thanked her, 
 he said he had noticed her sitting there many times 
 before, and had often wondered what she could be 
 thinking of so devotedly, alone, by herself. 
 
 "You always looked so lonely, yet beautiful, as you 
 sat thinking as though you were unconscious of every- 
 
THE ADOPTION 43 
 
 thing about you. I have often wanted to speak to 
 you, but had not the courage to approach you so 
 abruptly. I have thought I would sometime, lay all 
 conventionality aside and introduce myself in my own 
 informal way, but Providence has aided me by blow- 
 ing my hat down to you. Allow me to give you my 
 card. I am a resident of Bristol. I was born and 
 raised here. I am now living with my father and 
 mother on Queen Street. My vocation in life is 
 medicine, a physician by profession, in other words." 
 
 The name on the card was "William Knox." 
 After Mabel had read the card, she placed it in the 
 tablet she had in her hand, and answered him by 
 saying that his acquaintance was very acceptable. 
 They spent the remainder of the day conversing. 
 When they parted he made an appointment for the 
 next afternoon that he would call and take her 
 driving. 
 
 Doctor Knox was a man about five feet nine inches 
 in height, rather portly, with an air of aggressiveness. 
 He had light blue eyes and light hair, smooth face, 
 and a very heavy baritone voice. He was quite 
 loquacious which at times was tiresome, yet he was 
 a good man. He was exempt from all bad habits. 
 He had acquired a large practice in Bristol, for the 
 short time he had been practicing, and had done it 
 chiefly on his merit as a surgeon. He had no other 
 
44 THE ADOPTION 
 
 aid like many young physicians have. Some have 
 prepossessing personaHties, or have inherited wealth, 
 or their parents have some patronymic connection 
 v^ith the more noble blood, but Dr. Knox had some- 
 thing of more intrinsic value to him and to the world 
 as well, and that was his surgical skill. 
 
 The next day they drove to the country, and from 
 that on several times each week he would call and 
 take Mabel out driving. 
 
 Mabel thought it was best not to keep any secrets 
 from her aunt this time, so she told her that she 
 was keeping company with a Dr. Knox. Her aunt 
 was very much pleased at this, as she well knew 
 Mabel was lonely, and was at an age now where she 
 should go with some good man with the intention 
 of matrimony. 
 
 Mabel did not think she would ever care for Dr. 
 Knox at first, but after she had gone with him some 
 time, and she could see so many good traits of char- 
 acter, she learned to love him (if there is such a 
 thing as learning to love). Mabel, as I have said, 
 admired his good principles and qualities, but could 
 never love him, as she had and did still love Titus 
 Hanlon. She well knew she would be compelled to 
 marry sooner or later, as her aunt was getting ad- 
 vanced in years, and would not be long until she 
 would be all alone in the world, for she, by this time. 
 
THE ADOPTION 45 
 
 felt she would never see again the man of all men 
 to her, and who had so ruthlessly left her. 
 
 After several months of courtship with Dr. Knox, 
 they were betrothed and married. After the consum- 
 mation of the marriage, which was held in the Church 
 of England, they fitted up a pleasant little home on 
 St. Jacob's Wells Road, Bristol, where the Doctor 
 was engaged in the practice of medicine. 
 
 Dr. Knox was a Protestant and Mabel a Catholic. 
 This was the cause of a great amount of controversy 
 at one time, but the Doctor would not join the Cath- 
 olic Church, nor would he be married by a Catholic 
 priest. Mabel would not join the Church of England, 
 so they finally compromised by leaving the question 
 of Christian orthodoxy out of the marriage. 
 
 After one year of apparently married bliss had 
 passed, the Doctor was prevailed upon by some one 
 of his friends to go to Australia and build up a 
 practice there, as there was a much better field there 
 for a good surgeon than in Bristol or, in fact, Eng- 
 land. After considering this proposition for a while, 
 and after obtaining Mabel's consent to go, they packed 
 up bag and baggage and bade farewell to their friends 
 and relations and sailed for Melbourne, Australia. 
 Mabel's aunt had died, but a few months before this, 
 and Mabel did not have to go through the sorrowful 
 act of bidding her goodbye. But she went and 
 
46 THE ADOPTION 
 
 strewed some wild violets that she had plucked from 
 the Downs on her grave. As she moistened them 
 with a tear, she bade what remained mortal of her 
 aunt a last farewell. After a pleasant voyage of 
 many days, they arrived in Melbourne. Mabel did 
 not like the country at first, and was homesick, but 
 after a while she became reconciled to being out of 
 England, and became more favorably impressed. 
 They bought a very beautiful old home in the resi- 
 dential part of the city, and furnished it very cosily. 
 The house was very commodious. The ceilings were 
 high and frescoed. The front yard took up several 
 acres of land. It presented a very stately appear- 
 ance, and Mabel was pleased with the purchase of 
 this particular home, as she thought it was so much 
 like the house that used to shelter the one that was 
 still more dear to her than any one in the world, 
 except her dear child. 
 
 Six years had passed. They had lived at this beau- 
 tiful old home in perfect harmony. The Doctor had 
 acquired a very large practice. They had also min- 
 gled in society with the highest circles of Melbourne. 
 But they had not been blessed with a single child. 
 Mabel would like now to have her child with her, 
 but this she thought was impossible, as she did not 
 know where her child was, nor could she have him 
 if she did know, for she had never told the Doctor 
 
THE ADOPTION 47 
 
 she had one, or ever told him of that part of her 
 past life. She knew if she did, he would never have 
 married her, as the Doctor was very strict as to the 
 virtue of a woman. So Mabel gave up the idea of 
 ever trying to obtain her own dear Titus Hanlon, Jr. 
 
 After consulting with each other for a few weeks, 
 they decided to advertise for a male child between the 
 ages of six and ten years. They placed an advertise- 
 ment in the Australian papers, as well as the London 
 papers. They seemed to prefer a boy from England, 
 one who was born in their native land. A few weeks 
 went by, and they received many letters, but the 
 descriptions of the ones sent did not suit Mabel. She 
 had formed in her mind what she wanted in the 
 physical make-up of a boy. It was not long until 
 they received a letter from England offering a boy 
 of seven years old that seemed to be just what they 
 both wanted. The letter was written in a Dutch 
 broken English. Arrangements were at once made, 
 and the child was sent forthwith in company with a 
 gentleman by the name of Wykliff, who was on his 
 way back to Australia. 
 
 Mr. Van Rensler had lost his wife, and he had 
 sold the little farm, and as much as he loved the 
 child, he saw that he must let him go, as his health 
 was now on the decline since his wife's death, and 
 he felt he was not long for this life, and wanted the 
 
48 THE ADOPTION 
 
 child to have a good home before he passed away. 
 
 At last the ship arrived bearing the boy. He little 
 knew that he was going to his own mother's arms, 
 and that she would soon kiss his cheeks. Nor did 
 Mabel in the least expect to see her own child. She 
 and her husband were at the wharf to meet him. As 
 soon as Mabel glanced at his face, after Mr. Wykliff 
 presented the little follow, she grew pale for a mo- 
 ment, she was so happy. A feeling came over her 
 that she could not understand; there was something 
 in his dear sweet countenance that appealed to her 
 at once, not in the least thinking it was her own dear 
 Titus Vespatius Hanlon. But she at once leaned 
 over and placed her arms about his little body and 
 pressed her lips to his, kissing him fervently. 
 
 "Now, you are our own dear child. You are go- 
 ing with us to your new home, and you will have 
 lots of good things to eat, and lots of playthings, and 
 I am always to be your mamma, and here is your 
 papa," as the Doctor kissed him and picked him up 
 and placed him into a cab that took him to the home 
 that would be a home of many revelations in time to 
 come. A short time after this the little fellow was 
 adopted. He was going by the name of Roy Van 
 Rensler. 
 
 It was not so very long— only seven years — since 
 this very paradoxical mother had him christened Titus 
 
THE ADOPTION 49 
 
 Vespatius Hanlon. After the Van Renslers took him 
 to raise, they never knew his right name. It was 
 never given them, although they might have known 
 if they had looked at the scapular carefully, for upon 
 this was printed in indelible ink his full name. And 
 now his name was to be changed the third time in 
 his short life. This time it became Roy Knox. 
 
 Mabel was happier now than she had been since 
 Titus Hanlon left her nearly seven years ago. She 
 seemed to have some hidden satisfaction. She did 
 not realize, or know this was her own son, but Mabel 
 always had more or less psychic power. The psychic 
 or occult phenomena as far as the mental phase of 
 it was concerned, would at times strangely manifest 
 itself, but was always impromptu. She never asked 
 for any manifestations or tests. Mabel would often 
 get mental telepathic communications from her 
 friends. Her impressions were very good — so much 
 so she would always go by her first impression, and 
 would invariably be right. 
 
 This is why Mabel took to this apparently strange 
 boy, because it was her own flesh and blood, yet her 
 mortal senses did not know. But the human ego 
 from his little personality inspired her to a spiritual 
 satisfaction, which made her happy, and as long as 
 she was contented or happy, why want anything else? 
 For, as Robert Ingersoll said, "Happiness is the only 
 
50 THE ADOPTION 
 
 good, Reason the only torch, Humanity the only re- 
 ligion. Justice the only worshipper, and Love the 
 only priest." 
 
 Titus Hanlon, Sr., was living in Melbourne on the 
 North side of the city. He had become so poor, and 
 his health was becoming so impaired, that he was 
 not the same Titus Hanlon he was at one time. He 
 had changed so that Mabel would never know him 
 unless he should tell her his right name; then she 
 would at once recognize his features. But by passing 
 under another name, it would not be difficult for him 
 to deceive her. But Mabel would be recognized at 
 once by anyone who had ever known her. She still 
 retained her beauty, and vivacity and fastidious way 
 of dressing. She always dressed plain, but ver}^ neat. 
 Her neck was beautiful, but she had not the egotism 
 to wear her dress low. Mabel was very sensible in 
 all her ways of living. 
 
 Titus was now living incognito. He was going 
 by the name of Henry Hamilton, instead of Titus V. 
 Hanlon. He had been working the past two years 
 as a butler for a wealthy family in Melbourne. He 
 had got down to this in the past seven years. He 
 saw to the buying of all the provisions and would 
 oversee the culinary department. He was compelled 
 to do this for a livelihood. 
 
 Titus was well educated, and was capable of doing 
 
THE ADOPTION 51 
 
 things where he would be honored more than as a 
 butler. But he was a creature of circumstances, and 
 the morphine seemed to disqualify him for nearly 
 everything. Nor could he make any application of 
 what he did know. He had no business diplomacy 
 or executive ability, which is characteristic of one 
 who is addicted to the morphine habit. It renders 
 its users careless and untruthful. There are many 
 that morphine has a very unpleasant effect upon, and 
 these people are, as a rule, sanguine or lymphatic 
 and sometimes of a bilious temperament. But the 
 nervous temperament is the one so susceptible to the 
 narcotic, as Titus was. 
 
 There are no poetic lines, De Quincy's prose, nor 
 virtuoso on key or string, that can explain this ideal, 
 seraphic feeling of mental and physical relief. There 
 is nothing to compare it with. On the other hand, 
 when the system has gone twenty- four hours with- 
 out the drug, when a nervous temperament has been 
 accustomed to its use for some years, he feels as 
 though Beelzebub himself was tearing his abdominal 
 viscera from him, or Apollo crushing him, or he is 
 passing through Dante's Inferno. He is as Daniel 
 was when he was in the lion's den, but the lions can 
 tear with their talons and gnaw with their incisors. 
 This is just a part of the suffering one has to bear 
 while craving for the god of sleep Morpheus, or 
 
52 THE ADOPTION 
 
 morphine. Titus had been all through this. He had 
 witnessed every phase of life and every sensual 
 pleasure. He was now blase, and now he was apa- 
 thetic and indifferent to everything on earth. 
 
 We should never criticize anyone, no matter what 
 their condition of life may be, for we may have been 
 the same if we had been surrounded by the same 
 circumstances. The omniscient power above places 
 us or makes us as we are for some good. As Shakes- 
 peare says, 
 
 Songs in brooks, 
 
 Sermons in stones, 
 
 And good in everything. 
 
 We should take this existence philosophically; 
 there is no one here, no matter how or what he may 
 be, but who has his part to play in life's drama, as 
 well as the higher and more noble. 
 
 One Saturday afternoon in August, Titus was down 
 in the metropolitan part of Melbourne, in one of the 
 large grocery stores there. He was purchasing gro- 
 ceries for the household where he was employed. 
 As he was leaving the store to return home, he no- 
 ticed a lady alight from a carriage and walk briskly 
 into the store to purchase some articles. As soon 
 as he saw this lady, he became deathly pale, and a 
 cold perspiration came over him. He recognized her 
 as being some one very close and dear to him, but 
 
THE ADOPTION 53 
 
 at first did not place her as Mabel. But having re- 
 gained possession of himself, he stepped into the store 
 again and surveyed her from head to foot while she 
 was engaged in purchasing groceries. It was but 
 a moment until he recognized her as his Mabel of 
 years ago. But what could she be doing there, and 
 the carriage — the private carriage with footman and 
 driver? She must be married and settled down here 
 in Melbourne to live. All this came to him at once. 
 To satisfy himself on this point, he at once walked 
 out of the store and hurried down the street a short 
 distance, where he saw a young lad about thirteen 
 years old. He at once approached him and said, 
 
 "Here, my boy, is a shilling. Go to the footman 
 on the seat of the carriage yonder and ask him whose 
 it is. Ask him the name and remember it, and come 
 back and tell me.'* 
 
 This the boy willingly did, after which he returned 
 and told Titus it belonged to Doctor William Knox. 
 Titus was not quite satisfied. He went back to the 
 grocery store and asked one of the clerks he knew 
 very well, if he would loan him his bicycle for a 
 while. The clerk answering him in the affirmative, 
 Titus took the bicycle, and when the carriage started 
 away, followed on behind to learn what its destina- 
 tion was, and where this lady, whom he had loved 
 so long, was living. He followed until they drove 
 
54 THE ADOPTION 
 
 into the driveway of the old Fox home that he him- 
 self had admired so many times in passing, for it 
 reminded him of his home of youthful days at Clif- 
 ton, England. He could see on the front gate the 
 sign "Dr. W. Knox, Physician and Surgeon." This 
 at once convinced him that what the boy had told 
 him was true. At this, he returned with the bicycle 
 and went on his way to his duties. When he returned 
 to his room he sat for an hour thinking. The past 
 three hours' revelations had caused Titus more happi- 
 ness than he had since he left England seven years 
 ago. It at once began to work upon him and inspire 
 him to do better and reduce the morphine and try 
 to appear more polished, as he once did, for he was 
 bound to come in contact with her in some way. 
 
 Although he well knew he would not divulge his 
 name, he decided to devise some plan by which he 
 might converse with her if but for five minutes. 
 Each evening after six o'clock dinner, he would walk 
 up and down in front of the Knox home. Often 
 Mabel would be out in front sitting, sometimes with 
 the child and the Doctor, and sometimes alone. 
 
 One Sunday afternoon, as Titus was passing the 
 house slowly, Mabel was out at the front fence look- 
 ing up and down the street, inadvertently. She had 
 picked a few roses in the yard, and was holding them 
 in her left hand, as though she did not know they 
 
THE ADOPTION 55 
 
 were there. As Titus passed, she glanced at him 
 with her beautiful eyes, and he at her. He came very 
 near speaking to her. She looked at him more 
 closely than she usually looked at a pedestrian, be- 
 cause something about his eyes impressed her, but 
 she didn't know it was Titus. But now Titus was 
 very sure it was Mabel. From this time on he was 
 contriving how he might have a few moments' talk 
 with her, and what he could do without divulging 
 his right name. One evening while trying to think 
 of some way to meet her within the next month, he 
 was glancing over the Melbourne paper, and saw in 
 the advertisements that a Doctor William Knox was 
 in need of a butler, and saying to apply at the home, 
 466 Victoria Avenue. 
 
 That was on Friday evening. Early Saturday 
 morning Titus went direct to the home of Doctor 
 Knox and applied for the position. Mrs. Knox was 
 out. It was just as well, however, as she never had 
 anything to do with the hiring of servants. Mabel 
 was having a dress made, and was having it fitted 
 that morning. Titus was ushered into the office of 
 Doctor Knox. He at once introduced himself as 
 Henry Hamilton, formerly of Edinburg, Scotland. 
 He did not want to tell him he was from Clifton. 
 
 Titus fell into conversation with Dr. Knox at once, 
 and he asked him how long he had been in Mel- 
 
56 THE ADOPTION 
 
 bourne, and what part of England he came from. As 
 soon as he said Bristol, he knew at once of the Knox 
 family, and that this one, William Knox, was study- 
 ing medicine at the time he was, except at a different 
 school. The Doctor took to Titus at once, or rather 
 to Henry Hamilton, and hired him as their butler 
 and told him he could begin the following Monday. 
 Titus shook his hand and bidding him good-day, 
 passed out of the house into the front yard. As he 
 went through the yard he saw a little boy playing 
 there with a four-wheeled cart, loading and unloading 
 it with sand. As Titus approached the little fellow, 
 he was astonished, and stopped and spoke to him. 
 
 "Who are you, little boy; do you belong here?" 
 
 *T do; I live here with papa and mamma.** 
 
 "What is your name?" asked Titus. 
 
 "My name is Roy Knox." 
 
 "How old are you?" he asked. 
 
 "I am seven years old," replied the boy. 
 
 He had just recollected that Mabel must have a 
 child somewhere in the world, unless it had died 
 since, that was very dear to him. This was the first 
 time that this had occurred to him. His mind was 
 so taken up with the idea of meeting Mabel, he had 
 not once thought of the fact that the child was the 
 cause of their separation seven years back. But on 
 seeing this little fellow, it all came back to him. He 
 
THE ADOPTION 57 
 
 at once expelled the idea from his mind that it could 
 be his child. That could not be possible, because 
 Mabel would have had to give up the child to shield 
 her reputation. Although he felt an attachment for 
 the child, as its features reminded him of someone 
 he could not place, or his face presented an appear- 
 ance that he liked so much to look upon. He gave 
 the little fellow sixpence and passed on his way home 
 satisfied that he had accomplished a great deal on 
 this day. 
 
 When Monday morning arrived, Titus packed his 
 things and was met by a carriage of the Doctor's 
 and brought to his new master and mistress. He at 
 once entered upon his duties, being very careful at 
 first to pay but little attention to Mabel. He strove 
 to please them all; he exercised every effort to do 
 his best, not only as a butler, but as a man and a 
 gentleman. He exemplified so much of a spirit of 
 culture and refinement, that they would often ask him 
 why he was a butler, if he was not out of his sphere, 
 being so well informed, to follow the vocation that 
 he now followed. Titus would always give some eva- 
 sive answer. They all became very fond of him. He 
 spent many hours of the day with the little boy that 
 was his own, but was not aware of it. 
 
 Titus was not looked upon, for long, as a butler 
 in the family of Dr. Knox, but almost as one of the 
 
58 THE ADOPTION 
 
 family. He was using a great amount of strategy 
 and diplomacy, so that Mabel did not learn his real 
 identity. Yet she would sit sometimes at the table 
 and eye him as a chance would present itself. She 
 could see something either extraordinary in his make- 
 up, as well as something she partly recognized, and 
 also something she could almost love, not the least 
 expecting it to be Titus. She often wondered where 
 Titus was, and if he w^as still living. Titus could 
 easily see that he was making an impression on 
 Mabel, but he would not reveal his identity to her, 
 although it was all he could do to refrain from seiz- 
 ing her when she passed near him, and pressing her 
 to his bosom and telling her all. But something told 
 him to wait and let matters develop. 
 
 As time went on, Mabel became more and more 
 attached to the new butler, but she was very careful 
 that it should not attract the attention of the Doctor. 
 She did not do it to be untrue to her husband; this 
 never entered her mind, but there was a power that 
 science has yet to explain. There was that everlast- 
 ing affinity that was bound to predominate. 
 
 Often, when the Doctor was away, they would sit 
 and converse with each other by the hour. Titus 
 would repeat poems that he used to quote to her, and 
 speak of little things that would startle her. She 
 
THE ADOPTION 59 
 
 would often say, "I wish I could explain to you why 
 you at times startle me." 
 
 He well knew why it was, but to draw her out, he 
 would ask her to tell him, which she finally did. 
 
 "You are the only man I ever met that reminds 
 me of the one and only one I ever loved or ever 
 will love. Poor boy, he was a creature of circum- 
 stances. He was addicted to the use of morphine, 
 and it eventually caused our separation, yet it was 
 his own fault. I loved him for all that, and love 
 him still." 
 
 While she was making this narration and dwelling 
 on her affection for her Titus, she at one time loved 
 and still loved tears came to the eyes of Titus who 
 was not the butler. He was nearly overcome with 
 grief as she finished talking. She looked up at him 
 and noticed that he had been crying. She at once 
 asked him why it affected him in this manner, and 
 he answered by saying that he could sympathize with 
 her, as he was situated likewise — that he loved a 
 woman that was the wife of another, and that she 
 loved him as well, but circumstances kept him from 
 letting her know of his whereabouts. 
 
 After they had talked to each other as long as they 
 dared, for fear the Doctor would come home, they 
 moment. He pressed her to his heart and kissed her 
 parted. He could not help but embrace her at this 
 
6o THE ADOPTION 
 
 lovingly. She did not remonstrate or offer any ob- 
 jection, for she felt that he came so near being Titus, 
 that if he was dead, he was, as Pythagoras had 
 said was possible, reincarnated in this man, Henry 
 Hamilton. 
 
 How happy Titus was this night while he was 
 sitting in his room up-stairs, knowing that his love 
 was below in the same house, and still loved her 
 Titus, though he left her so abruptly when she was 
 in trouble. They could hardly wait for the time 
 that they could be together. Mabel was too good 
 a woman to even think of any wrong — this did not 
 enter their minds, though she became so infatuated 
 with the butler and so cold to her husband, that he 
 could see there was something wrong. He kept this 
 to himself, as he thought it was best not to say 
 anything at this time. 
 
 One afternoon while they were together, Titus, 
 having made up his mind to find out what had be- 
 come of her child that he knew she must have had, 
 questioned her and asked her to tell him more about 
 her love affair with the man that he reminded her 
 of. She told him how she had met a certain Titus 
 Hanlon on the Downs at Clifton, England, and that 
 he held her captive one night in his father's house, 
 and that he had drugged her, and had, what he 
 would call, ruined her, and that she forgave him 
 
THE ADOPTION 6i 
 
 because she loved him so well, and that he was un- 
 der the influence of morphine at the time, and did 
 not realize what he was doing. She told him that 
 she was compelled to go to a maternity home later, 
 and gave birth to a boy, and had him christened 
 Titus Vespatius Hanlon, as his father wished her to 
 do. She described him at length as he was at that 
 time. She also told how she was compelled to give 
 the child away to a Dutch family, she imagined by 
 the name, as she was later told by one of the at- 
 tendants at the maternity home in London that the 
 family was Holland Dutch, but lived in England. 
 She also told Titus of the scapular that was given 
 him with the name Titus Vespatius Hanlon, Jr., 
 printed on it with indelible ink. 
 
 Titus listened intently to all this and was deter- 
 mined to find out all he could in order that he might 
 later locate his boy. As weeks went by, a small ex- 
 press package was left there one day by the express- 
 man. The Doctor was out, and Mabel opened the 
 package. Much to her surprise, it contained the 
 scapular that was given the child, and the little shoe 
 that was the mate to the one she removed from the 
 foot of her boy the day of the sad parting so long 
 ago. She at once got the other shoe, which she had 
 all of her married life kept away from her husband, 
 and compared the two and found them to be exact 
 
62 THE ADOPTION 
 
 mates. As she went to get the shoe, Titus observed 
 the name Titus Vespatius Hanlon, Jr., on the scapu- 
 lar, and when she returned they both looked at it to- 
 gether. Titus, as well as Mabel, was well pleased 
 at this, for they were sure now that there was a 
 chance to locate the child. Yet Mabel was not aware 
 of the fact that the man at her side was anxious to 
 locate the boy, nor did she in the least suspect him 
 as being the father. 
 
 In the evening mail came a letter from Van Rens- 
 ler, of Manchester, England, explaining that this 
 scapular belonged to the boy that they had adopted, 
 and he had placed it into a bureau drawer and had 
 forgotten that it was in existence until he came across 
 it by accident not long since. He went on to explain 
 that the name of this scapular's owner was written on 
 it in indelible ink, and that he had taken the child 
 from a certain maternity home in London on a cer- 
 tain day of the year, and that the mother's name was 
 Mabel Crawford, of Clifton, England. 
 
 This explained all to her complete satisfaction. As 
 soon as she read this letter, she went directly to the 
 adopted boy, that was only partly adopted now. She 
 clasped him in her arms and shed tears of joy over 
 him. She was now the happiest woman in all the 
 world, to think that her long and many prayers were 
 answered at last, that God had sent her what she 
 
THE ADOPTION 63 
 
 loved the most, with the exception of Titus, of any- 
 thing in all the world. 
 
 This night was a wakeful night for Mabel; she 
 lay with her little loved one in her arms, watching 
 over him, and waiting until the next day, that she 
 might tell the glad tidings to Henry, the butler, or 
 her unknown lover Titus. 
 
 At the very first opportunity they were together 
 the next day, Mabel read the letter to Titus, or the 
 butler. He could hardly suppress his feeling of joy, 
 but he knew he must wait. Mabel was convinced 
 beyond the faintest doubt now, that she had her own 
 child in her arms. 
 
 After Titus, or the butler, had heard the contents 
 of the letter from Mr. Van Rensler, the good old 
 German who had had the little boy baby for about 
 five years, he broke down and wept, first placing his 
 arms about Mabel's neck. Mabel wondered at this 
 demonstration of his; she could not understand why 
 he should be so overcome with emotion on reading 
 the letter. She asked Titus why he felt as he did, 
 and he replied by saying he was so sympathetic, that 
 he could never control his feelings when anything 
 as touching as this came up, especially when it was 
 so near. 
 
 *'To see how you are the star in the whole drama, 
 and I caring for you as a friend, as I do. I say 
 
64 THE ADOPTION 
 
 'friend,' Mabel, as I have no right at present to say- 
 other than that, for you are a married woman, and 
 not only that, you have a man in the world some- 
 where that you dearly love, so that gives me little 
 encouragement." 
 
 "But, Oh, Henry," as she called him, not knowing 
 he was her Titus, "now that I have my child I have 
 prayed for, I am sure God wall answer my prayers 
 further. If he does not, I will always remember 
 you as my nearest and dearest friend. You well 
 know that I am too honorable to leave my husband, 
 for you know he loves me very dearly and has always 
 been so kind and good to me, and I will always be 
 true to him. There is but one thing that could cause 
 me to leave William, and that is, if Titus should 
 happen to come into my life again. I could not part 
 from him if I should ever meet him again, especially 
 now that I have his child. Oh, how I wish he could 
 look at his boy! Can you imagine how happy he 
 would be to know that his last wish w^as fulfilled. 
 He wished and hoped the babe would be a male, and 
 that I should have him christened after his father, to 
 make the name patronymic, thus Titus Vespatius 
 Hanlon. I have done as he wished me to do. I 
 have been true to Titus. I married for a livelihood, 
 that I might have a home. I could not love any man 
 but Titus. I could only admire, or honor, or respect. 
 
THE ADOPTION 65 
 
 My love was all showered on one in my early days, 
 and this one was Titus." 
 
 Titus, or the butler, took in every word of this, 
 and afterwards he considered minutely how true, how 
 loyal Mabel was to him at heart, and how brutal he 
 was to leave her seven years ago as he did. How 
 he did want to tell her all — that he was the lover she 
 was so fond of, but he could not at this time face 
 her. He thought if she knew he was the real Titus 
 Hanlon, her lover of seven years back — he still lacked 
 courage on account of his habit. 
 
 Mabel was now day by day showing more affection 
 for the butler. She could not refrain from meeting 
 him now, even when the Doctor was on the premises. 
 
 On one occasion the Doctor saw the butler draw 
 her up to him, and kiss her lovingly; this was on 
 Sunday afternoon just before Mabel was to take an 
 afternoon ride with the Doctor. The Doctor had 
 become suspicious before this, but had remained 
 quiet. Mabel, on this Sunday afternoon, excused 
 herself in the hall before taking the carriage, and 
 walked back ostensibly to get her gloves that she said 
 she had left laying on the dining-room table, or in 
 the kitchen. As she went back to get the gloves that 
 she pretended to get, the Doctor tiptoed to the end 
 of the hall and looked through the crack of the door, 
 and the spectacle of affection that met his eye caused 
 
66 THE ADOPTION 
 
 him to nearly faint. He did not suspect his wife of 
 having gone so far as this. However, he regained 
 control of himself by sheer will power, and hurriedly 
 went to the carriage so she would not suspect him 
 of thus detecting her in her parting kiss with the 
 butler. 
 
 Doctor Knox, several times before this, had seen 
 things he did not like, and was sure there was more 
 to the bottom of this, if it was sounded. Mabel 
 carried a picture that Titus, the butler, had given to 
 her since he had been there in the employ of the 
 Doctor. This picture was a very good likeness of 
 Titus as he now looked. She carried this in her 
 bosom with the scapular that she had received of late 
 with her little boy's name written on it, wound 
 around the picture and wrapped in tissue paper. 
 
 On the coming Friday evening, they were to have 
 about thirty guests at their home to supper, and to 
 have a dance after supper. They had made great 
 preparations for the few hours of felicity and feast- 
 ing. It was during that evening's festivities and 
 dancing that Dr. Knox became so overcome by what 
 he had witnessed with his own eyes, and what a 
 friend of his had told him he had witnessed. After 
 the party had dispersed, and they had all gone to 
 their several rooms, the Doctor and Mabel went to 
 their room. As soon as they entered the room, Mabel 
 
THE ADOPTION 67 
 
 made preparations to retire, but the Doctor spoke up 
 at once, and said, "Do not retire now, Mabel. I 
 have just Ht a cigar, and when I am through with 
 it, we will both retire at once." ''Very well," was 
 the reply. The Doctor was so full of both anger 
 and sorrow he could hardly keep quiet for a moment. 
 Mabel unfastened her neck attire, and at the same 
 time crossed the room to a bureau on the opposite 
 side, as she had done many evenings before without 
 detection. As she crossed, she reached into her 
 bosom and withdrew the picture and the scapular and 
 laid them in the drawer. The Doctor closely scruti- 
 nized all of her movements now, as he did not trust 
 her any longer. He could see by the reflection of 
 the mirror that she had tried to secrete something 
 beneath some of her lace gowns in the drawer. As 
 soon as she had done this, she returned and sat be- 
 side him. At this, he took her hand and looked into 
 her eyes and smiled and laughed in a supercilious 
 manner. 
 
 "Mabel, Mabel, woman, woman, how meek and 
 submissive, yet cunning." 
 
 This made a flush come to Mabel's cheek, but she 
 tried to act as nonchalant as possible. 
 
 "Mabel, why do you walk to the bureau each and 
 every evening and place some article of value, of 
 great value, there. To you it must be of great value, 
 
68 THE ADOPTION 
 
 for you leave your diamonds and pearls on the center 
 table, and whatever it may be, you are very careful 
 to put it away securely." 
 
 ''Doctor, how mean you are tonight," sne said as 
 she came close to him and tried to regain his con- 
 fidence by false caresses. At this he smiled and said, 
 
 *T guess you love another, Mabel. I am incredu- 
 lous about your caring for me any more. I will hope 
 to see you manifest yourself differently, if I am con- 
 vinced otherwise." 
 
 At this he rose and walked to the bureau arid 
 opened the drawer. At once Mabel resented this and 
 became indignant. 
 
 "Why, Doctor Knox, what has come over you all 
 at once; you have never acted this way before." 
 
 At the same time the Doctor was removing from 
 the drawer piece after piece of wearing apparel, 
 laughing and holding Mabel at the same time so she 
 could not interfere with his operations. 
 
 ''Why, Doctor, don't go further. I do not want 
 you or any gentlemen to look at my clothes. The 
 package you speak of contains something ecclesiastic- 
 ally sacred to me," said Mabel. "Oh," replied the 
 Doctor, "it does. Well, I will have to see, maybe 
 it will be sacred to me as well." At this he found 
 the little package and raised it far above his head. 
 
THE ADOPTION 69 
 
 laughing at the same time, and Mabel, reaching for 
 it and appealing to him to give it to her. 
 
 "Please, please, give it to me, and I will show yoti 
 some other time. I am tired tonight, and want to 
 rest" 
 
 At this he ran back of the table, dodging her, and 
 commenced to unwind the string that held the tissue 
 paper about it. 
 
 "Why do you try to tantalize me in this way? 
 What real pleasure does it give you," she asked. 
 
 "Not that I love Caesar less, but that I love Rome 
 more. There's tears for his love, joy for his fortune, 
 honor for his valor, and death for his ambition," he 
 replied. 
 
 He gave this quotation from Shakespeare's drama 
 in a dramatic tone and gesture. By this time he had 
 the package open, apparently examining its contents. 
 He first looked at the scapular, wondering what it was, 
 and mumbling beneath his breath in a satirical way, 
 "What is this?" As he unwound the scapular, not 
 being a Catholic, he could not imagine what it could 
 be. "It must be a small porous plaster or fly blister, 
 fastened to a string. Hello, hello, look at the por- 
 trait. Ah, isn't he fine looking. Yes, and our butler, 
 at that. Oh, you have your fellow in the house, and 
 still you want his photo on your body by day and 
 secured by night." 
 
70 THE ADOPTION 
 
 At this he glanced at the scapular and read the 
 name that was printed in indelible ink thereon, Titus 
 Vespatius Hanlon." 
 
 "There must be some connection between this, 
 whatever it is, and the picture. What is this, Mabel," 
 he asked as he lifted it up to her. 
 
 "It is a scapular," she replied. "What is a scap- 
 ular?" he asked. "A scapula to physicians is the 
 shoulder blade bone. "Why, a scapular is something 
 connected with our church," said Mabel. "You would 
 not know if I would tell you, she answered in a faint 
 tone, thoroughly scared, for she knew the worst was 
 yet to come. 
 
 "Mabel, you are full of deception and fraud. What 
 in God's name have you that picture for ? What right 
 have you to carry another man's photo about with 
 you? Answer me this, answer me," he cried in loud, 
 dramatic tones, while walking back and forth across 
 the bed-room. 
 
 "William Knox, do not ask me to explain tonight. 
 Go to bed, and tomorrow I will answer all." 
 
 "Go to bed, go to bed, with my heart! Mabel, 
 what do you think I am made of? I shall never see 
 myself in bed again until this is explained, and ex- 
 plained thoroughly, to my satisfaction. So, Mabel, 
 I am waiting, proceed." 
 
THE ADOPTION 71 
 
 At this Mabel hung her head and did not utter 
 a word. 
 
 "Speak, explain this to me at once, I demand it," 
 said the doctor. 
 
 Mabel made no reply. The Doctor rose to his feet. 
 
 "Tell me what this all means, or I will kill you 
 here on the spot." She rose, with eyes that snapped 
 and set her jaws. 
 
 "Kill me, then, you coward, kill me. That you 
 can do, for you are strong, but you cannot scare me. 
 I will not tell you now, until I am ready," she said. 
 
 "Oh, my God, my God, my life is ruined, my life 
 is ruined," wailed the Doctor. 
 
 "This seemed to touch a sympathetic cord in Mabel, 
 and she went to him and embraced him and said, "No, 
 dear, you are not ruined. I am here still, I love you 
 as much as ever, and can explain. Give me time 
 and I will explain." 
 
 He at first tried to push her away, but she clung 
 to him and kept on appealing to him until he threw 
 his arms about her and kissed her and held her with 
 her head on his shoulder for three or four minutes. 
 The Doctor thought a great deal of Mabel, and her 
 renewed affections for a moment took possession of 
 him. But as she was still laying her head upon his 
 shoulder, the thought came to him of her kissing the 
 butler a few days before in the kitchen. He was 
 
y^ THE ADOPTION 
 
 sure in his mind that she had been untrue to him. 
 As he thought of this, his anger arose anew and he 
 pressed her away and said, "Mabel, you have been 
 untrue to me. I have noticed things that were very 
 indiscreet of you going on for months here under 
 my very eyes." 
 
 "You imagine this, WilHam," she ejaculated. 
 
 "I imagine nothing. I go by facts, not fancies." 
 
 "You are jealous, Doctor," said she. 
 
 "I am not jealous, I am disappointed in you, and 
 have been much so since the day I saw you kiss the 
 butler goodbye the afternoon you went to ride with 
 me, and made the excuse to go to the kitchen to get 
 your gloves, and you had your gloves in your coat 
 pocket all the time, and simply went back to kiss 
 the butler." 
 
 Mabel turned pale at this, and now made up her 
 mind that he was aware of much more than she had 
 ever surmised he knew. At this she burst out with 
 an indignant air, and said, 
 
 "Well, what if I did kiss him? If you could un- 
 derstand and knew all, you would not censure me, 
 perhaps, as you do." 
 
 "Understood — what is there to understand," he 
 replied. 
 
 "There is lots to understand that neither you nor 
 
THE ADOPTION 73 
 
 anyone else but myself can understand or realize." 
 said she. 
 
 "I can only understand that you have taken my 
 name and have desecrated it. I thought when I mar- 
 ried you you would be at least virtuous/' 
 
 "What do you mean," she abruptly broke in with 
 loud tones — "What do you mean now? You must 
 explain yourself, or you shall never sully our married 
 existence. I hate you. I care nothing for you; you 
 may leave me if you wish. If you knew all, you 
 would not say those hard things to me." 
 
 "I say only the truth," he said. 
 
 "You speak falsely, and to speak as you do will 
 not mitigate your sorrow or mine in the least. I 
 hate you; you may leave me, and I never will live 
 with you more, since you have so maliciously insulted 
 me; it is ridiculous and puerile," answered Mabel. 
 
 "I will leave this very day. I will take Roy, and 
 you may go with your butler," he said. 
 
 "You will not take Roy ; he is my child, not yours." 
 
 "How you talk ! Did I not adopt him ; has not the 
 law of man given him to me?" asked Dr. Knox. 
 
 "Yes, but there is a higher law than that of man 
 that gave him to me," she said. 
 
 "A higher law! What do you mean, explain your- 
 self," he asked as she clasped her hands together and 
 looked towards heaven through the east window. 
 
74 THE ADOPTION 
 
 "He is mine, God bless his little soul," as tears were 
 rolling down her cheeks. 
 
 "You are an enigma, you are talking in riddles," 
 said he. "What in the world do you mean?" 
 
 By this time the sun was rising. They had been 
 up all night talking in these loud and sometimes low, 
 pathetic tones. Morning had come now, and Titus 
 could hear the Doctor and Mabel talking for several 
 hours before he had arisen, and he got the drift of the 
 conversation very plain. Many times he came very 
 near coming in and shielding her from such villainous 
 talk that she received from her husband, but he waited 
 until this moment, when he had heard him say he 
 would take the custody of the child. 
 
 "This boy is flesh of my flesh and blood of my 
 blood. I am entitled to him, if not by legal right, 
 I am by moral and by the right of heaven, for he 
 is my own dear child, nursed on my bosom." 
 
 As the Doctor pressed his hands over his ears and 
 passed faster and faster back and forth in the room, 
 as though he could not bear to get the import or 
 meaning she meant to convey, at the same time groan- 
 ing, "Oh, my God, oh, my God, woman, woman, 
 awful, awful. I have been deceived, I have been de- 
 ceived. But I am attached to Roy. What you say 
 may be true and it may not be true. I am going to 
 
THE ADOPTION 75 
 
 keep him myself. You may go, you may go where 
 you like/* 
 
 At this moment Titus entered the room, and said, 
 
 *'Yes, Mabel, you have your child, for it is your 
 child and I am its father. I am no longer your but- 
 ler, but your husband, by the laws of heaven. My 
 name is Titus Vespatius H anion, and am from Clif- 
 ton, England. I lived in the old manor house. I met 
 you on the Downs by the City of Clifton. My God, 
 Mabel Crawford, don't you know me? I am the one 
 who kept you prisoner in my home. I left you be- 
 cause I took morphine and had not the courage to 
 stay by you." 
 
 Mabel was utterly overcome, by one extreme fol- 
 lowing the other — one of sorrow, the other of bliss. 
 She stood for a moment in amazement, and then ran 
 to Titus. They embraced each other with all the 
 affection their souls were endowed with. 
 
 Doctor Knox was so amazed he could not speak 
 or move at this moment. Mabel and Titus were once 
 more reunited. Tears of joy were shed by them both. 
 
 "God has been so good at last to reunite us and 
 our little one by adoption. This is your son that I 
 promised I would christen in your name, Titus Ves- 
 patius Hanlon, Jr. Here is the scapular," she said 
 as she turned to Doctor Knox and read the name 
 
^6 THE ADOPTION 
 
 written thereon in indelible ink. "And here is the 
 letter that I received from the Van Renslers." 
 
 The Doctor read slowly, at last dropping his head 
 and sobbing. Then, going into the next room he 
 placed a revolver to his temple and killed himself. 
 
 Hearing the report of the gun, Titus and Mabel 
 realized instantly what had happened. As the foot- 
 man came running in to tell them Doctor Knox had 
 killed himself, they embraced each other over the 
 form of the slumbering boy, whose name would be 
 changed for the fourth and last time. 
 
 THE END 
 
INFINITE LOVE 
 
 Chapter I 
 
 Across the bay from Queenstown, Ireland, is the 
 picturesque Httle town of Crosshaven, which Hes in 
 the most beautiful of all Ireland's rural districts, with 
 groves, moors, streams and all of Nature's possibili- 
 ties, to make it beautiful and charming to those who 
 are susceptible to Nature's masterpiece. 'Twas here 
 in this village Florence Snow lived with her parents, 
 who were well-to-do. Her father was a sailor, which 
 necessitated his being away from his family the most 
 of the time. Florence was very fond of her father 
 and mother and was naturally very loving, amiable, 
 sympathetic and tender-hearted. 
 
 She had had but little experience in the world, so 
 knew but little of the wrongs and ways of the world. 
 All through her young life she had had day-dreams, 
 and would study by the hour in her lethargic or 
 hypnotic moods. She often would remark, the inno- 
 cence and beauty of all God does, our undying love 
 for Christ, our everlasting love for beautiful flowers; 
 so is not the flower and everything in Nature to live 
 forever somewhere? We are part of God's nature. 
 
78 INFINITE LOVE 
 
 though he gives us a mind to know right from 
 wrong, and if we are pure Hke the flowers, we will 
 live forever somewhere on some sphere (such was 
 the inspiration of this creature). 
 
 Florence had large, blue, heavenly eyes, dark 
 brown, wavy tresses, which hung below her waist. 
 Her cheeks were like the petals of a rose, when 
 touched by the sun's rays. Florence was a second 
 Venus, yet she was as innocent as a nursing babe. 
 
 Chapter II 
 
 Lorenzo was an American by birth, from an old 
 New England State. He was a descendant of the 
 Puritans, had gained his education at Yale College, 
 where he was given an M. A. degree, though this 
 was not enough for Lorenzo. He was so active and 
 wished to fathom the depths of the sea of knowledge, 
 that he went to Europe with the financial aid of his 
 father, and took a five-year course in medicine. After 
 acquiring the degree of M. D., he desired to see the 
 world, which he did. Returning to Vienna, Austria, 
 where he had graduated in medicine two years before, 
 he started the practice of medicine, but had not prac- 
 ticed long before he received word of his father's 
 death, which necessitated his returning to America 
 to his old home. 
 
INFINITE LOVE 79 
 
 His father had left him quite wealthy, but, after 
 staying on the old farm homestead with his mother 
 and brother for a few weeks, Lorenzo became rest- 
 less and desired to start out in the world with the 
 $1,200.00 income he had left to him, and meet his 
 future fortune or failure. Lorenzo went to Boston, 
 and while there he turned to his medical profession 
 for the second time and was very successful. He 
 was of a literary turn of mind, but apt to be the 
 least melancholy in disposition. His habits were 
 above reproach, and as far as education went he was 
 far above the average professional man; and as for 
 personal appearance he was said to be handsome, six 
 feet tall, with military carriage, and graceful in all 
 his movements, with dark brown hair, dark eyes and 
 clear complexion. He seemed endowed with every- 
 thing necessary to carry him through life without any 
 great exertion. 
 
 Nature had done so much for Lorenzo, yet he 
 scarcely ever thought of it, as he was not at all proud 
 or egotistical. He was twenty-eight years of age, 
 and his life had been one of study and travel, so he 
 had experienced no romance or love, but love was 
 to be his future fate. 
 
 His life was now at a crisis. One evening as 
 Lorenzo walked into the lobby of the hotel, where 
 he was boarding, and went to the desk to receive his 
 
8o INFINITE LOVE 
 
 mail from the clerk, as he had done many evenings 
 before, he was handed several letters, two of which 
 were from his mother, and a third, the handwriting 
 of which he did not recognize, and which he opened 
 first. It read as follows : 
 
 Lorenzo Adams, Esq., M.D. 
 
 Dear Sir: We are to have a gathering of friends at my 
 home, 141 Commonwealth Ave. at 8:00 o'clock, Wednesday 
 evening, February 23, in honor of Miss Florence Snow, of 
 Crosshaven, Ireland, who has been one of our guests since 
 January first, and we desire your presence at this reception. 
 Respectfuly yours, 
 Boston, Mass., February 21, 1899. Bertha Johnson. 
 
 After Lorenzo read this invitation from Miss John- 
 son, whom he had met only in a professional way, 
 by attendance on her father while sick, he sank into 
 a chair at the supper table, and leaning his head on 
 his hand, he fell to wondering whether to accept or 
 decline it, but he happened to think of a dress suit, 
 which he had purchased on the Boulevard de Capra- 
 cino, Paris, which he had never worn, and thought 
 this would be a good opportunity to display it. 
 
 The day of the party was spent by Lorenzo in 
 preparation for the event. Arriving at the Johnson 
 mansion, although he was somewhat late, he was re- 
 ceived with due courtesy and led into the drawing 
 room, where he was introduced to all the gxiests by 
 Miss Bertha Johnson. His handsome, manly figure. 
 
INFINITE LOVE 8i 
 
 immediately attracted the attention of all the ladies, 
 especially Florence Snow, and later in the evening 
 when relating some of the adventures of his travels, 
 all the ladies seemed to be giving him most of their 
 attention. 
 
 As soon as Lorenzo glanced in Florence's eyes, 
 and saw the depth and beauty there was in them, he 
 was entranced by her charms, and there seemed to 
 be a strong affinity between them, although they had 
 hardly exchanged a word. When it was nearly time 
 for refreshments, in order to decide who should be 
 partners for supper, the ladies' names were to be 
 drawn by the gentlemen from a hat. Lorenzo seemed 
 reluctant over the mode of procedure, but as yet 
 had said nothing. He was on the point of suggest- 
 ing that each should select his own partner, but think- 
 ing this might be a breach of etiquette on his part, 
 he decided to leave it to Providence to draw the name 
 of the one he felt that he almost loved, even at this 
 early hour. When he placed his hand in the hat, it 
 trembled so that he could scarcely grasp one of the 
 papers, and at the same time looked at Florence with 
 such an anxious expression, one could see that they 
 were both fearful that the Fates would not be kind 
 to them. 
 
 But it was foreordained that they should become 
 more closely acquainted and as Lorenzo looked at 
 
82 INFINITE LOVE 
 
 the paper, with trembhng hands and flushed face, he 
 saw the name "Florence Snow," which seemed to 
 make his heart beat normal again. As they went 
 arm in arm to supper, Lorenzo asked permission to 
 call at some future date, which was granted, the time 
 set for the following Sunday afternoon, and arrange- 
 ments made for a w^alk in the Park. As Lorenzo 
 walked home that night from the party, with every- 
 thing so still around him— not even a breath of air 
 stirring in the sleeping city — he thought the beautiful 
 canopy of stars had never shone so brightly and that 
 life had never seemed so sweet as now that love had 
 entered it; and all he could hear the rest of the 
 night was her last words, ''Good night, Mr. Adams." 
 They were singing in his ears and from this time 
 on Florence Snow was 
 
 "The meditations of his heart, 
 
 The inspiration of his theme; 
 
 If together or apart, 
 
 'Twas she awake, or she in dream." 
 
 Chapter III 
 
 On Sunday Lorenzo called and he and Florence 
 started out for a stroll in the Park. It was a beau- 
 tiful day for February; the snow had all melted and 
 disappeared, the sun was shining brightly, the air 
 was warm, and as far as the weather was concerned, 
 
INFINITE LOVE 83 
 
 everything seemed to be in their favor. But Florence 
 seemed to be down-hearted, with htde to say, and 
 not at all as she was the night of the party. This 
 worried Lorenzo, so as they rested on a rustic seat 
 in the Park, he asked Florence why she was so down- 
 cast. She did not answer at once, but sat with low- 
 ered gaze, nervously stirring the gravel with her 
 parasol, until Lorenzo said again, "Florence, tell me, 
 tell me, what is the trouble, why do you act so 
 melancholy ?'* 
 
 "Mr. Adams," she said, 'T have heard from home 
 and I am obliged to take the 'Teutonic' tomorrow 
 evening to return to my home at Crosshaven, Ire- 
 land.'* 
 
 "Must you go, Miss Snow, must you go? O! what 
 will I do without you? Florence, how can I spare 
 you, for I love you, I love you, I cannot have you 
 
 go." 
 
 "Lorenzo, I must go, although I do not want to 
 leave you, but my mother is very sick, and I must 
 go to her." 
 
 "Only under such circumstances, dear one, can I 
 see you leave me, but may I see you off at the pier, 
 in New York?" 
 
 "I should be delighted to have you," said Florence, 
 "but Bertha Johnson and her father are going with 
 me, as far as New York, so it would not be pleasant 
 
84 INFINITE LOVE 
 
 for either of us, but remember I love you Lorenzo, 
 and will love you when near or far, and will think 
 of you until we meet again. 
 
 Taking something from his pocket, Lorenzo said 
 to Florence, ''Here is a small gold locket, containing 
 a miniature likeness of myself, take it and wear it 
 on your neck until we meet again." At length as 
 they were strolling homeward, Florence said to Lo- 
 renzo, "Will you not come over to Ireland, this sum- 
 mer, to see me?" Lorenzo replied, "Yes, dear Flor- 
 ence, I will come, if I have to work my passage 
 across the ocean." By this time they had nearly 
 reached the Johnson home, so they stopped and clasp- 
 ing each other's hands they bade each other a lover's 
 typical long farewell. With tearful eyes, Florence 
 begged Lorenzo to come to her home in the summer, 
 and he assured her that nothing but death would 
 prevent him from doing so. 
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 Much better had the eyes ne'er seen, 
 
 Nor heart of Love been swollen, 
 Since the ocean now must roll between, 
 
 And away her mother's stolen. 
 
 On arriving at old Erin's shore 
 
 The news awaited thee, 
 Your mother lives on earth no more. 
 
 She has crossed the immortal sea. 
 
INFINITE LOVE 85 
 
 "How green the fields, O God ! how still the brook 
 does flow, how sweet the birds do sing, yet how 
 heavy my heart does grow. O ! mother, as I sit here 
 on this lonely, yet beautiful shore, can you not come 
 to me?" This was the burden of Florence's daily 
 thoughts, and as she would sit on the rocks and 
 watch the waves, breaking on the sands, she would 
 think of her absent lover far over the roaring sea, 
 and of her dead mother, who had been her only com- 
 panion. At such times, she would cry: "Mother, 
 mother, come to me, come if but for a moment and 
 comfort your heart-broken child." 
 
 She would look at a bird, perching nearby and 
 exclaim, "I wish I were a bird, that I might fly far 
 away up to my mother in the sky, the blue, blue sky, 
 the emblem of purity and home of deliverance, where 
 mothers and daughters are never parted." 
 
 She took the locket from her neck, and looking at 
 the picture, thought of Lorenzo and why did he not 
 come to her. "Dear Lord," she cried, "has all the 
 world forsaken me? O my heavy heart! Dear Lord, 
 if thou canst not send my mother to me, I pray thee 
 send Lorenzo, or I shall die for want of mortal love." 
 As Florence got up to go back through the weary 
 fields, home, the sun slipped behind the western 
 horizon, and as it threw its long rays athwart the 
 
86 INFINITE LOVE 
 
 sea at her feet, she gazed at the close of day and 
 thought : 
 
 So clear a sun, 
 
 So clear a sea. 
 
 So green the moor surrounding one 
 
 So dark as me. 
 
 Lord, can it be 
 
 That thou hast done 
 
 The lighting of the glorious sun, 
 
 And calmed the sea, 
 
 For other mortals and for me. 
 
 And covered o'er the valley green, 
 
 And left this wearied soul between 
 
 My living lover o'er the deep? 
 
 How can I love this glorious scene 
 
 With him away and she asleep 
 
 Since mother's dead. 
 
 And I am led 
 
 Away so far from all I love; 
 
 My heart has bled 
 
 For her above. 
 
 For Lorenzo and a mother's love. 
 
 God bring her, though it be a wonder 
 
 To calm a soul that's crushed asunder. 
 
 Chapter V 
 
 "O, this bleak, weary world! Why did I meet her? 
 Yet I was foreordained to meet her ; I love her, loved 
 her even before I met her. I have seen her in my 
 dreams at night; while smoking, I have seen visions 
 of her earthly form. O Florence, you live in my 
 
INFINITE LOVE 87 
 
 heart, you have my love, my soul ; I cannot stay 
 from you. The world is not a world, without you. 
 If I must ever be without you, God disembody my 
 soul that I may take up my spirit abode in mansions 
 above, so that I may descend to my love in Cross- 
 haven, in spirit. I am so restless, the most beautiful 
 summer day, the sweetest summer morning, the flow- 
 ers, pure as the breath of love; all of these, which 
 were once so sweet to me, without her whom I love 
 so ardently, are now but a mockery. Thus Lorenzo 
 soliloquized and his soliloquy became a dream. 
 
 He dreamed that he must arrange his business, 
 cease his practice of medicine and fly to Florence 
 across the sea; that she is pining away for him and 
 the loss of her mother, and that she will be drowned 
 in the river Lee, near an island. He awakened in 
 the morning tired, weary and worn, yet determined 
 to say farewell to his mother and fly to his love. 
 Although he felt that he would never return to his 
 mother's side again, he still thought it his duty to 
 go, and with a choking voice he bade his mother a 
 solemn farewell with these words : 
 
 "Mother, think not harsh of me, 
 Though I leave you for another, 
 I am called by God to comfort thee, 
 A lonely soul, dear mother. 
 
 I'll calm a heart which once was blest 
 Though from your side I'm led. 
 
88 INFINITE LOVE 
 
 If ever I am laid to rest, 
 Yours will be comforted. 
 
 Throw bread upon the mortal seas, 
 Relieve the breast that burns, 
 Then gratitude rolls back to thee 
 The bread two-fold returns. 
 
 Lorenzo took passage aboard the Leucania, and at 
 length arrived at Queenstown. 'Twas in the month 
 of July when the flowers were in full bloom and 
 the temperature not unpleasantly warm; the sun was 
 shining brightly, the birds were singing their sweet- 
 est songs, not a breath seemed to stir the foliage, and 
 all Nature seemed to be in a dreamy happy mood. 
 The next afternoon, after his arrival at Queenstown, 
 Lorenzo was ferried across the calm waters to Cross- 
 haven. He there inquired where the Snow residence 
 was, and was directed to the place by the butler of 
 the family who were the Snow's nearest neighbors, 
 and who also added the information that the father 
 had been gone for months, and since the mother's 
 death Florence, the daughter, spent nearly every 
 afternoon down on the moor where the river emptied 
 into the sea. Lorenzo thanked the butler and started 
 in the direction of the moor. He slowly and quietly 
 descended the hill, and at the foot of which Florence 
 was sitting on the banks of the little stream in deep 
 meditation. He was not at first certain that it was 
 Florence, but continuing on his way he finally came 
 
INFINITE LOVE 89 
 
 near enough to hear her soHloquizing, and then he 
 knew it was she whom he sought, and his heart beat 
 faster, and seemed to rise up in his throat so that he 
 could not have spoken had he so desired. He stood 
 there gazing on his love; she, to whom he had given 
 his heart; she, for whom he had left his mother; 
 she, who was life itself to him. Florence was dressed 
 in white, of some soft clinging material, which 
 showed to perfection her graceful curves. She had 
 been writing poetry and Lorenzo was the muse that 
 inspired her, but she had ceased writing, and leaning 
 her head on her hand, was weeping and calling for 
 Lorenzo, who she thought was across the sea, all 
 unconscious that the object of her thoughts was so 
 near. 
 
 Although the stream at her feet was rippling and 
 sparkling over its pebbly bed, the whole atmosphere 
 perfumed with the breath of flowers, the sunlight 
 streaming through the trees onto her waving tresses, 
 and all Nature bright and beautiful, still Florence 
 would not be comforted, but was weeping for her 
 mother and longing for Lorenzo. She looked up to 
 Heaven and said: 
 
 "O God, the power of all powers, the greatest of 
 all, what have I done, how have I offended thee, that 
 I should suffer such penance? O Lord, I appeal to 
 thee in this hour of despondency and heart-torture, 
 
90 INFINITE LOVE 
 
 to thee, with whom nothing is impossible, to take me 
 to heaven at this moment, to my dear mother, or 
 send to me my love to comfort me." 
 
 As she finished speaking, she saw a light in the 
 sky and heard these words: Lorenzo, Lorenzo. "O 
 my God, is he dead, is he dead? Lorenzo, come to 
 me, if you have gone to the spirit world, come to me 
 and tell me if my dear mother is there, and take me 
 there with you." As she stood in despair calling 
 Lorenzo, he, having crept nearly to her, called out 
 in a choking voice: 
 
 "Florence, Florence, my love, my life, your prayer 
 is answered, I have come to you in flesh and blood, 
 to go no more away." 
 
 At the sound of that loved voice, Florence turned 
 and looked into that face, which was more beautiful 
 to her than any picture in art, or any of Nature's 
 scenes, and exclaimed: 
 
 ''Lorenzo! God is good." 
 
 They then embraced each other and mingling their 
 tears together, they thanked the Lord for permitting 
 them to meet again in this world. 
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 Lorenzo lived in Queenstown and made the Central 
 Hotel his home. He visited Florence three or four 
 
INFINITE LOVE 91 
 
 times a week; they took short tours up the river Lee 
 to Cork to hear the Shandon Bells; they walked arm 
 in arm along the Marina and Mardyke, visited the 
 town of Blarney, ascended to Blarney Castle and 
 tried to kiss the Blarney stone; they visited the lakes 
 of Killarney and both thought how different the world 
 was now with love in it. One pleasant afternoon 
 Lorenzo hurried across the Crosshaven to visit Flor- 
 ence, and they walked out to the spot where she had 
 spent so many solemn and lonely hours, and where 
 he had found her weeping and praying for her 
 mother and for him. It was a beautiful day and they 
 sat on the ground making plans for the future. After 
 a few minutes silence came upon them, and they both 
 sat looking at the flowing stream at their feet. Flor- 
 ence at length became worried at the prolonged 
 silence and asked Lorenzo if he were ill, that he was 
 so very quiet. Roused from his dreamy state, Lo- 
 renzo said to her: * 'Florence, I have something to 
 ask of you. Darling, I have never asked you if you 
 would marry me, will you, Florence?" 
 
 "Will I marry you, Lorenzo? Yes, I will be mar- 
 ried to you by the laws of man, although by the 
 laws of God we have been married all our lives, and 
 such marriages can never be broken, nor can death 
 itself separate us, but only bring us closer together 
 after a short separation, in a world more beautiful 
 
92 INFINITE LOVE 
 
 than this, where we will nevermore part, and where 
 Christ, not man, reigns as king." 
 
 Lorenzo then said : ''Florence, if I should die first, 
 come to this spot here near your mother's grave, and 
 I will return to you in spirit and tell you of the 
 heaven above, and console you until it is time for you 
 to come to me there. I wish you to bury me beside 
 your mother here, and to see that my mother is 
 buried by me on this same spot, and I hope you will 
 live and take care of my mother until death. Will 
 you do this, dearest Florence?" 
 
 "Indeed I will, Lorenzo, and should I die first, 
 I will come to you from the realms above and tell 
 you of our future habitation, and I wish you to lay 
 my form to rest beside my mother's here on this 
 spot, and we will make that an agreement between 
 us, and if I come to you and you do not recognize 
 me, I will tell you of the locket you gave me, con- 
 taining a likeness of yourself." 
 
 Lorenzo asked Florence if she believed in the im- 
 mortality of the soul. She answered and said: 
 
 "Yes, Lorenzo, I do believe in it, but have no 
 absolute proof of it, yet I feel that it must be so, for 
 if not, and our existence stops here, this earth might 
 as well be blotted out. But if there is a spirit heaven, 
 this earth is a middle ground to try our souls and 
 
INFINITE LOVE 93 
 
 prepare us for a higher and better sphere, do you not 
 think the same, Lorenzo?" 
 
 *'Yes, love, those are my sentiments exactly. O 
 Florence, is not such a belief a hope that if mortals 
 like you and I are separated by death, before marriage 
 on earth, we will be married by the law of love in 
 heaven, and if we are married on earth by man's law, 
 and are separated by death, afterwards we are re- 
 united in heaven to never part again." 
 
 "Well, dear, we will leave it that way at least, and 
 as 'tis growing late, we had better start at once." As 
 they went away arm in arm, and had nearly gotten 
 out of sight of the spot so sacred to both, they turned 
 their eyes once more in that direction and asked God 
 to bless it. When they had reached the pier where 
 Lorenzo was to take the ferry to Queenstown, he 
 placed his arm around his dear Florence and im- 
 plored her to remember what she had said about 
 coming to him in spirit, if anything befell her. He 
 kissed her again and again, not knowing that he was 
 kissing those mortal lips for the last time. 
 
 Farewell! Oh word what depth to thee; 
 
 How many truths each day you tell; 
 This word a clairvoyant you see, 
 
 All times adieu you oft foretell. 
 
 We take its meaning as goobye, 
 
 In other ways applies as well. 
 To Florence! soul above the sky, 
 
 With God you will fare well. 
 
94 INFINITE LOVE 
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 One bright morning Florence made her toilet early 
 and took the io:oo o'clock ferry boat for Queens- 
 town, intending to take the train from there and go 
 to Cork to do some shopping. But as the ferry boat 
 neared Spike Islands, it collided with another ferry 
 and filled with water and sank at once, only four of 
 the crew being saved from a watery grave. Florence 
 had gone to the depths of the bay to remain forever 
 in silent death. The news of the disaster quickly 
 reached Queenstown, and many boats were sent out 
 to offer aid in finding the bodies of the unfortunates. 
 Lorenzo heard of the disaster, but had not the slight- 
 est idea that Florence was one of the victims. He 
 was not to call on her again until the next afternoon, 
 and having nothing else to do, he thought he would 
 volunteer his services in helping to find the bodies 
 of the ill-fated passengers. For some unaccountable 
 reason he had felt depressed and unhappy all that 
 morning and was also laboring under a strong im- 
 pression that Florence was sick, or was going to die; 
 so he thought he would go to help recover the bodies 
 and then go to Crosshaven to see Florence. 
 
 As he, with the other men, had almost reached the 
 scene of the collision, the first thing they saw near 
 
INFINITE LOVE 95 
 
 the shore of the island, was the body of a woman 
 with her beautiful hair floating on the surface of the 
 water. As they steered for this, one of the old sailors 
 reached over to pull the stricken form into the boat; 
 all gazed on it with anxious eyes. As the sailor lifted 
 her head up to the bulwarks of the boat, Lorenzo 
 gave a shriek and leaning forward he grasped the 
 cold form of her that was, in all the earth, the nearest 
 his heart and the idol of his soul. As he lifted her in 
 the boat, he pressed her to his breast with his strong 
 arms, and called to her, "Florence, Florence, speak 
 to me, my God, are you dead? O God, unjust God, 
 why did you take her from me." As Lorenzo uttered 
 these words, he fell in a faint with the body in his 
 arms. 
 
 Chapter VIII 
 
 The remains of the unfortunate girl were taken 
 to her home, and Lorenzo would not leave the bier 
 day or night, and kept it covered with the most beau- 
 tiful flowers he could purchase. He remembered her 
 wishes to be buried in the moor, on the beautiful spot 
 where she had spent so many solemn, and also so 
 many pleasant hours, and so had her grave prepared 
 on this sacred spot, by the side of her mother. At 
 the funeral Lorenzo could scarcely control himself, 
 
g6 INFINITE LOVE 
 
 and when he took the last look at her, just before 
 they lowered her into the grave, he raised his eyes 
 to heaven and implored God to take his life that he 
 might be buried with her. 
 
 No life will be a living care, 
 
 To love I am a slave, 
 Of all the earth I ask to share, 
 
 Is part of Florence's grave. 
 
 God grant my wish, TU ask no more, 
 How can I live from her apart? 
 
 While burying her I cover o'er 
 Her form, with her, my heart. 
 
 Chapter IX 
 
 Many afternoons in Ireland's golden sunshine, Lo- 
 renzo visited that isolated, yet beautiful spot. In his 
 mind that little horizon was all there was of earth; 
 his thoughts were centered and concentrated on Flor- 
 ence, and this lonely moor. As the weaves dashed 
 against the shore, at his feet, he thought how inno- 
 cent they seemed, yet how treacherous. 
 
 As the waves are rolling at thy feet, 
 
 From out the deathly scene, 
 Each wave he hears the name repeat — 
 
 Florence — Florence — Florence. 
 
 Lorenzo would sit on the rocks by the sea, in deep 
 thought for a time; then he would rise and walk 
 
INFINITE LOVE 97 
 
 back to the grave of his love, on which he would 
 place flowers every afternoon, and sit and weep. 
 
 I place these flowers o'er your mound 
 
 O'er my heart, my dove 
 I weep and kneel upon this ground, 
 
 And kiss the dust, I love. 
 
 One dark gloomy afternoon when the sky was all 
 overcast and the grass wet from the morning show- 
 ers, Lorenzo was sitting by Florence' grave in a very 
 gloomy frame of mind. His heart was nearly broken, 
 and he became choked and suffocated and cried out 
 as though he was in agonizing pain (and he was in 
 the most excruciating of all pain, that of heart-broken 
 grief). At this moment of utter despair he raised his 
 hands and looked to Heaven and prayed for relief (as 
 all mortals do when they have no avenue of escape 
 or consolation). "But 'tis darkness before the dawn.*' 
 
 At this he heard a clarion voice, and looked around 
 but could see no one. Then in Florence's voice, he 
 heard the words: "Weep no more, but come to the 
 grave tonight at eight o'clock, and I will come to you 
 as I promised and tell you of our future happiness 
 in spirit heaven." At this Lorenzo brightened up 
 and remembered the covenant they had made with 
 each other, at this same spot, the last time they were 
 there together. 
 
98 INFINITE LOVE 
 
 Chapter X 
 
 Lorenzo came to the moor at six o'clock. The 
 grass was wet, the weather very gloomy and he rest- 
 lessly paced back and forth waiting for the time to 
 arrive that he might see once more his beloved Flor- 
 ence, though only in spirit. 
 
 Lighting a match he looked at his watch, and 
 seeing it was nearly eight o'clock, he went and sat 
 down on Florence's grace. The night was very dark 
 and it soon began to rain a fine drizzle which was 
 very depressing, and every few moments the sky in 
 the northwest was streaked with vivid flashes of 
 lightning. It was now an hour past the time when 
 Florence said she would come to him and she had 
 not yet come, and Lorenzo was disappointed, wet, and 
 discouraged with the whole world, and being very 
 tired, he lay down on Florence's grave, caring not 
 what became of him. He finally fell asleep and be- 
 gan to dream of Florence, and that he was with her 
 in Heaven. He dreamed he met her on an ethereal 
 avenue, that looked like the milky way, not illumi- 
 nated by earthly lights, but by the ever shining stars 
 above. Before he reached her, as they came toward 
 each other, she looked very queenly to him. She 
 was robed in a thin, white substance, and had upon 
 
INFINITE LOVE 99 
 
 her head a golden diadem, set with the finest of 
 sparkling gems. She looked like a queen and was a 
 queen over many heavenly souls. She recognized 
 him, and as they met they embraced each other, but 
 as they started off on this avenue to the great domain 
 of Heaven itself, he awakened from his sweet dream, 
 wet, cold, and hungry. He lit another match and 
 looked at his watch and said to himself, "It is 12:00 
 o'clock, and Florence has not come to me, as she 
 promised, or did I imagine she said she would come 
 to me?" 
 
 He became more desperate and lay down on Flor- 
 ence's grave again, saying to himself: "I care not 
 what becomes of me; God, let me fade away into 
 oblivion." 
 
 He fell asleep and began to dream of Florence, a 
 dream that was not in vain. As he dreamed, he saw 
 her coming through space to him with light all about 
 her angelic form. She came in spirit and knelt at 
 his side on her own grave, and passed her angel-hand 
 over his care-worn brow, caressing him while he slept 
 and dreamed. She placed her arms under his head, 
 and kissing him, whispered in his ear: 
 
 "Wake, wake Lorenzo! I have come to you and 
 for you. You are going to Heaven with me tonight, 
 where you will be out of your misery and care, and 
 where we will ever be as one." 
 
100 INFINITE LOVE 
 
 Lorenzo awakened at these words, and seeing her 
 angelic form, placed his arms about her neck as he 
 said to her: "I was dreaming that you were at my 
 side. Am I dreaming still, can it really be you, Flor- 
 ence? Can it be you whom I love? O, prove to me 
 that it is you." 
 
 *'Do you remember the locket you gave me, in 
 America, having your likeness within? Do you re- 
 member, when we were last here, I told you I would 
 come to you and show you this locket and tell you 
 about Heaven? Lorenzo, we will never be parted 
 there by death or any other means, and though we 
 were not married on earth, we will be married in 
 Heaven, and God, not man, shall officiate. So, Lo- 
 renzo, come with me to Heaven where you will meet 
 your dear mother, who has just come, and where my 
 mother and all of us will meet our dear ones yet to 
 come, and where there is no separation." 
 
 At this Lorenzo's soul pierced through Life's mor- 
 tal membrane, and with locked arms Florence and 
 Lorenzo passed into eternal bliss, where all who love 
 as purely and truly as these, will meet to part no 
 more, and where the waves from the silvery sea beat 
 upon the shore so softly, where the moors are more 
 beautiful, where the flowers have a sweeter aroma, 
 and where all is love. 
 
INFINITE LOVE loi 
 
 The hour we may welcome death, 
 
 We cannot lend bliss or borrow, 
 When we pray to God to take our breath, 
 
 And relieve our living sorrow. 
 
 When earth is like a dungeon gloom, 
 
 And loved ones torn asunder, 
 Man whose last hope death assumes. 
 Is wish for death a wonder? 
 
 Nor is the brain and heart of ease, 
 
 When clime and day is pleasant, 
 Love plays the part it all will please 
 
 Rich, poor, friar and peasant. 
 
THE ASTECS AND TPIE LOST ATLANTIS 
 
 My hypothesis of how the Astecs originated in the 
 Western Hemisphere may seem very crude to many. 
 But it is very plausible in my mind, if I may use 
 mythology to aid me in any hj^pothetical narrative. 
 
 According to the Talmud and Scripture, there was 
 a lost tribe. My idea is they immigrated west across 
 the Isthmus of Suez, which at that time was in a 
 condition that it might be traversed on foot. After 
 reaching Egypt, they marched on to Morocco. From 
 there, by means of small boats or galleys, they could 
 have reached the Cape Verde islands, and on to the 
 Lost Atlantis, which was at that time in its preserved 
 state; and from here, they could have reached the 
 West Indies and thence to Yucatan, where there is 
 much archeological proof of the once existence of a 
 race of people as far advanced in both art and learn- 
 ing as the Egyptians. 
 
 I have seen temples and tombs with hieroglyphics 
 on them that were said to be as old or older than 
 those on the Cleopatra Needle at Heliopolis, Egypt. 
 The Astec Indians are a race of people much more 
 advanced mentally than any other race of Indians on 
 
THE ASTECS 103 
 
 the American continents, so the question arises, 
 "Where did the Astecs originate from?" 
 
 We are told the Island of Atlantis was the island 
 where the pack of cards first originated. The Lost 
 Atlantis which was swallowed up in one night by the 
 sea was the only country that had four lakes near 
 together in the center of the island, and four rivers 
 running into each one of the lakes — one from the 
 north, one from the east, one from the south and one 
 from the west. This would divide the island into 
 four countries. These four countries were governed 
 by four kings and queens, and each river had nine 
 tributaries, which divided each country into nine 
 smaller states, each one of them governed by the 
 king's vassals. 
 
 From this the pack of playing cards that is used 
 until this day was planned. They had the four aces 
 to represent the four lakes; the kings and queens to 
 represent the four countries; the four jacks to repre- 
 sent the four rivers; the ten-spots, nine-spots and so 
 on to the two-spot represent the nine Cantons or 
 small States that are divided by the tributaries of 
 the larger rivers. The clubs and spades were two 
 countries that were naturally endowed with the art 
 of fighting for a livelihood. This was symbolized 
 with the black figure or club. Black has a pugnacious, 
 coarse effect that gives a more robust enduring spirit. 
 
I04 THE ASTECS 
 
 Spades, which are also black, which was the national 
 emblem of another of these four countries, which was 
 given more to agriculture. 
 
 These two countries were diagonally opposite each 
 other. The country with the diamond emblem was 
 inhabited by artisans, while the heart characterized 
 the fourth country. They were the whitest race on 
 the island, more prepossessing, and their personal 
 beauty would cause many of the plutocrats from the 
 adjoining countries to marry their daughters. 
 
 Red was the color because red lent a more soft and 
 more artistic effect, which coincided with their natural 
 bearing. 
 
 This is said to be the explanation of the cards as 
 they are today. The cards were sacred to them. It 
 was their Bible. Every card had some occult or 
 psychological meaning to it, and they said as the 
 Revelations of St. John say of the word of God : 
 
 *'Let no one add to or take away." 
 
 Likewise with the pack of cards. Let no one add 
 to or take away, or the pack will be ruined, which 
 has been proven by adding the Joker, which really 
 ruins the game. 
 
THE NAPOLEON DYNASTY 
 
 While visiting the Hotel des Invalides or the Tomb 
 of Emperor Napoleon — which in my mind is the 
 most magnificent tomb in the world, with one ex- 
 ception, and that is the Taj Mahal of Agra, India — 
 the thought came to me how great men often come 
 from almost plebeian ancestors. Napoleon was born 
 in the island of Corsica. His parents were poor, but 
 there was a nucleus of greatness in Napoleon that 
 grew as he grew. 
 
 'Toets are born and not made," so are generals. 
 Napoleon could not acquire the wisdom, versatility 
 and strategy that he displayed at Austerlitz, Wagram 
 or Jena, nor the diplomacy and executive ability 
 shown as emperor of colossal France. The natural 
 propensities or merits that Napoleon was endowed 
 with raised him from frugality to Emperor of, what 
 was at that time, the most powerful nation on Earth. 
 
 Although the Napoleon dynasty had a rapid 
 growth, it was and must always be looked upon as 
 the one great masterpiece of history. How strange 
 that Napoleon should die in exile at St. Helena, under 
 the British Crown, after making himself Emperor of 
 
io6 THE NAPOLEON DYNASTY 
 
 France. And not long after, his beloved wife, Em- 
 press Josephine, who was the wife of M. Beauharnais 
 prior to her espousal to Napoleon, and by whom she 
 gave birth to Hortense. Hortense later married Na- 
 poleon's brother, Louis, and was blessed with a son, 
 who was elected the first President of the French 
 Republic, but afterwards ignored the French chamber 
 of deputies, and proclaimed himself Emperor of 
 France. Like Napoleon, the First, he had attained 
 the height of royal ostentation, and he, likewise, must 
 retrosrress and die in exile under the British crown. 
 
ROCK OF GIBRALTAR 
 
 As I passed through the Straits of Gibraltar, I let 
 my eyes wander over the famous rock, which is a 
 natural fortification, honey-combed and tunneled by 
 mortal hands. Within this rock are nineteen hundred 
 guns pedestaled upon their revolving turrets, facing 
 the Atlantic, the key to the Mediterranean. Capped 
 on its slanting side is the city of Gibraltar. The base 
 is washed by the ever dashing waves, and the dimmed 
 and shaded peak may be seen above the dark, descend- 
 ing clouds. 
 
 This is not "Cheops," but God's pyramid. This is 
 not a mausoleum to commemorate the decarnate, nor 
 to perpetuate the name and glories of some mortal 
 man. It seemed to me more like the timber head of 
 safety to fasten our line of hope, and confidence, and 
 satisfaction, contained within the spirit hand of God 
 to demonstrate to His children the strength of nature 
 — the Rock of Hope, the Pyramid of our Creator. 
 
 Yonder, across the way, more power lies. This 
 state is Morocco; its pedestal, a rock; in form, a 
 crest. Its collonade of pillars, a strait that separates 
 the land from land, and the sea from sea. 
 
io8 ROCK OF GIBRALTAR 
 
 But thou art not a master-piece of mortal fame. 
 Thou art the pillared Power-God, Hercules, which 
 represents the power of truth, but not the name. 
 
AN EPITOME OF FOUR DECEIVERS 
 
 Henry, erratic and vacillating, does not really know 
 his heart, it is as changeable as the pendulum of a 
 clock, it swings from one side to the other, yet ticks 
 or beats away the sweetest of all time which is the 
 time of mortal love. Eva sits in meditating mood 
 looking out from her father's country summer house 
 early in May, the wild violets just peeping through 
 showing their innocent heads, the spring zephyrs play- 
 ing about and now and then disturbing Eva's auburn 
 curls, until one falls in front of her placid pensive 
 brow. She gracefully strokes it back carelessly as 
 she speaks in almost audible tones, "I love Henry, I 
 love him and I must have him at any cost. He 
 thinks that I do not know he is going with Eva 
 Page and at the same time making visits to see me. 
 Of course I am older than Henry and must be liberal 
 and excuse this in him, I suppose, for he does not 
 know perhaps which one of us he loves the most. 
 Plenry has been very devoted to Miss Eva for the 
 last three months, has called regularly, semi-weekly, 
 and has fallen in love with her. He makes his dec- 
 
no AN EPITOME OF 
 
 larations of love to her, but they are not engaged 
 as yet." 
 
 One evening he called to take her to a social gath- 
 ering in the neighborhood and Eva is attired in a 
 gown with short sleeves and low neck. Eva has a 
 very beautiful figure, yet has a birthmark on her 
 neck in the shape of a rose bud. It is sort of wine 
 color and located on the left shoulder. This does 
 not disfigure her in the least, to the most observing 
 eye, as Eva is so immaculate in her dress and she 
 has this birthmark nearly covered with the white lace 
 edging of her gown. Henry has observed this slight 
 blemish in Eva, but says nothing, of course, but 
 thinks to himself a birthmark is of some use; one 
 might be identified by it. 
 
 They have a very enjoyable time at the party and 
 Henry escorts Eva home. In a nearby city lives an- 
 other Eva Page that is an exact counterpart of Eva 
 Page No. I. She has hair and eyes alike; is of the 
 same age; their voices are alike, mannerisms the 
 same, play the same pieces on the piano, dance alike 
 and cannot be told apart, and their names happen to 
 be the same. 
 
 Eva No. I had met Eva No. 2 some time since, 
 and they had become the best of friends. Henry 
 was not aware of this. Eva No. i kept this from 
 Henry because she knew he had met Eva No. 2 and 
 
 i 
 
FOUR DECEIVERS iii 
 
 was paying her visits. Eva No. 2 v^as a very loyal 
 friend and would post her after each visit, and by 
 this found out Henry was fast falling in love with 
 Eva No. 2. Henry had a friend by the name of 
 Ralph Cummings that was as much a counterpart of 
 him as the two Evas were of each other. Henry had 
 Ralph visiting Eva No. i while he was visiting Eva 
 No. 2. This really worked for a while, but Ralph 
 was too conscientious; he could not deceive her any 
 longer and confessed he was not Henry Wakefield, 
 but was just plain Ralph Cummings. This did not 
 provoke Eva No. i, but made her all the more deter- 
 mined to connive, as she had already done to get him 
 at this point. The Evas exchanged homes with each 
 other, and at the same time must keep it from their 
 parents or they would prevent such actions. Eva 
 No. 2 resided with her parents in Springfield, Mass., 
 and Eva No. i made her home in the winter with 
 her parents in the city of Boston. They also had a 
 summer home just out of Boston. Henry had made 
 his arrangements with Ralph to keep company with 
 Eva No. I and use his name while he went to Spring- 
 field to stay for a few months, that he may ascertain 
 to his own satisfaction whether or not he loved Eva 
 No. I or Eva No. 2 the most. Henry made his 
 regular visits to her home and devoted himself very 
 assiduously to her. Henry was an attorney and did 
 
112 AN EPITOME OF 
 
 not wish to remain idle, so went in the law office of 
 Sands & Colter. Ralph was fulfilling his mission with 
 Eva No. I by this time, but there was not so much 
 deception in Ralph; he could not be so false with 
 her, as not to give his name, as after he made several 
 calls under the cognomen Henry Wakefield, he di- 
 vulged Henry's secrets. Ralph was fast falling in 
 love with Eva No. i. Her musical acquirements 
 were love inspiring to him, and completely overcame 
 him. She also admired Ralph in many ways, but not 
 as she did Henry. Henry was her ideal of a man. 
 He had traveled extensively and was very striking in 
 his physical make-up. He was very magnetic and 
 there was a strong affinity between Eva No. i and 
 Henry. The two Evas having known each other so 
 long, and Eva No. t had often gone to pay long visits 
 to Eva No. 2 at different times, unbeknown to either 
 of these two gentlemen, Henry and Ralph, so they 
 had acquired each other's ways to a marked degree, 
 had their gowns made the same, of the same color, 
 and what were not the same in the way of hats, jew- 
 elry, etc., they had exchanged for the special occasion. 
 It was one Wednesday morning that Eva called up 
 Eva No. 2 by long distance telephone and they made 
 their arrangements. Eva No. 2 was to come to her 
 home before she left for Eva No. i. She arrived on 
 the next morning's train and took up her abode at 
 
FOUR DECEIVERS 113 
 
 Eva No. 2's home. Eva No. I's parents had left 
 home for a visit in the South and they had left no 
 one but the servants, so it was smooth sailing for her. 
 Eva No. I goes alone to her friend's home, having 
 been informed about the servants' names and all. She 
 gets along nicely; both girls are in strange homes, 
 but are making the best of their difficulty, and are 
 surmounting every obstacle to make this a success. 
 Henry makes his first call on Eva No. i which he 
 supposes to be Eva No. 2. Eva receives him with 
 some timidity and is reluctant about getting too near 
 to him at first, and is evasive in talking about local 
 matters as she knows she is not posted about the city. 
 Yet they pass a very enjoyable evening together. Eva 
 is so glad to have this opportunity to be with Henry 
 again, for she idolizes him. While he is sitting with 
 her one evening on the settee, he places his arms 
 about her and tells her that he once had a lady friend 
 who looked so much like her and also told her he 
 loved her with one exception, the best of any person 
 on earth, and, of course, the exception was her when 
 he made this confession. Eva nearly laughed, but 
 she kept from it. She asked where this other lady 
 made her home, but Henry wouldn't tell her this; he 
 told her he would tell her later. Henry by this time 
 was fast falling deeply in love. Eva was doing all 
 in her power to coil the net of love around him. Her 
 
114 AN EPITOME OF 
 
 ways were so entrancing; her figure was that of 
 Venus personified, or in other words, if the statue of 
 Venus of Milo should come to life and walk out of 
 the Louvre Museum of Paris it would not be more 
 graceful than Eva, especially this evening in her 
 beautiful gown. 
 
 Henry is satisfied in his own mind that he loves 
 whom he supposes to be Eva No. 2 the best, and 
 there is nothing in the world that he would not 
 sacrifice for her, so he proposes to her that they 
 marry within the next two weeks; that he loves her 
 to such an extent that he cannot wait any longer. 
 Of course his proposal is accepted and the next even- 
 ing he calls he places a diamond ring on her finger 
 as an engagement ring. Henry writes the news to his 
 friend and confederate, Ralph. Ralph receives the 
 letter and laughs so heartily when he reads it, think- 
 ing that he does not know that he has told his right 
 name. Ralph has been continuing his visits and has 
 not discovered any difference in the two Evas; he 
 thinks he is going with Eva No. i. It has never 
 entered his mind, other than tkat. However, Ralph 
 becomes infatuated with his Eva the same as Henry, 
 and proposes to her that they marry within two 
 weeks. Henry has told him the date they were to 
 marry and wants Ralph to marry the same day, so 
 they agree to do this. All the time the two Evas are 
 
FOUR DECEIVERS 115 
 
 having lots of fun telephoning and writing about the 
 joke they are paying on the boys, and Henry is con- 
 gratulating himself how politic it was of him to do 
 as he did, by looking further, before deciding. 
 
 Henry says to Eva that he has a very dear friend 
 that is to be married the same day that he is, and 
 that he would like to have a double wedding. Eva 
 agrees to this at once, and thinks it would be some- 
 thing novel and out of the ordinary. 
 
 Ralph has by this time written to Henry and con- 
 fessed to him that he has divulged his right name, 
 so that enabled Henry to tell his friend's name, think- 
 ing, of course, she knew nothing of him, or her. 
 Ralph receives a letter that he shows his fiancee, stat- 
 ing that they have a double wedding, which is readily 
 accepted. 
 
 Ralph has been informed by Henry that the two 
 ladies were so near alike in every way that it was 
 impossible to tell them apart. The time had arrived, 
 the wedding day was at hand. Ralph and Eva were 
 to come to Boston, which they did; they were to 
 meet at the First Congregational Church at 1 1 .-30 
 a.m. After going to the hotel and having lunch 
 and arranging their apparel for traveling, they pro- 
 ceeded to the church where they met Henry and Eva, 
 the other Eva waiting up stairs where it was quite 
 dark. There Henry introduced his former love to his 
 
ii6 AN EPITOME OF 
 
 fiancee, as he was in an undertone asking pardon for 
 substituting Ralph for himself, and she quickly says 
 "I accept your apology. All is well that ends well.'* 
 Then he turns and introduces his intended to Ralph. 
 All this time it is almost impossible for the two Evas 
 to keep from laughing, but instead, they pretend to 
 be amused at the likeness of both gentlemen and 
 themselves. Ralph is dumfounded. It makes him 
 think he is dreaming. He can hardly know or under- 
 stand how this can be. He thinks he has met both 
 of these ladies somewhere, but knows not where, 
 though he says nothing. 
 
 The wedding march begins, the bell rings for them 
 to descend the stairs to the altar, the rector is ready, 
 the church is well filled. They march slowly up the 
 isle keeping time to the wedding march. It is very 
 much lighter in the church than it was up stairs. 
 Henry and Eva No. i (in Henry's mind supposed 
 to be Eva No. 2) walks up the isle together ahead, 
 with Ralph and the other Eva just behind. They 
 reach the altar, they take their positions four abreast 
 under beautiful floral decorations of great variety. 
 The rector proceeds to marry them. ''Henry Wake- 
 field, do you take Eva Page to be your lawful wife," 
 "Ralph Cummings do you take Eva Page to be your 
 lawful wife, both of you to love, honor and obey" — 
 at this moment Ralph notices the birthmark that he 
 
FOUR DECEIVERS 117 
 
 at one time had seen on the shoulder of Henry's Eva, 
 and he knew something was wrong as he looked 
 down on his Eva, they both wearing low-necked 
 dresses on this occasion. He became nervous, he 
 could not see the birthmark on the Eva that he was 
 about to marry. The rector was waiting for the 
 accustomed "yes" from both gentlemen, but they 
 made no answer. The Evas were becoming nervous. 
 They had seen that Ralph had discovered something, 
 but they had never thought of the birthmark. Ralph 
 tried to get Henry's eye, his face was becoming 
 flushed. Eva No. i was so anxious for she wanted it 
 over, as she did love Henry so and was afraid that 
 if he discovered her in this he would never say that 
 little word that would bind their hearts together for- 
 ever. The guests were almost rising in their seats 
 wondering what was the matter. Henry catches 
 Ralph's eye as he glances down at the shoulder with 
 the birthmark. His eye follows Ralph's and looks 
 at the birthmark which he had not seen since that 
 evening months before at the social gathering in the 
 country, he then looks her in the face, raising her 
 hand. Ralph is doing the same to his Eva, looking 
 her over as you would a horse before purchasing. 
 They both rub their eyes. Tears begin to trickle 
 down Eva No. I's cheeks. She fears the secret is 
 out. As the rector asks the second time for the word 
 
ii8 AN EPITOME 
 
 *'Yes/' Henry speaks up, "Just wait a minute, I want 
 to see if their are any more birthmarks here," as he 
 looks at Ralph's Eva, but does not see any birthmark 
 as there is none to see. He walks back to his former 
 place, rubs his eyes again, as he turns with a mis- 
 chievous look and says to his bride to be, "Who are 
 you?" Then Ralph speaks up and says to his bride 
 to be, "Yes, who are you ?" "Aren't you girls mixed, 
 or are we," Henry says. Ralph meditates for a mo- 
 ment and sees something has got to be done. The 
 audience and the rector are by this time tired of 
 waiting in this agonizing suspense, when the rector 
 asks for the word "Yes" for the third time. Ralph 
 answers, "Yes, I do," and tells Henry to say "Yes," 
 the only difference in them anyway is that little birth- 
 mark. Then the two Evas confess what they have 
 done. Henry takes Eva, his birthmark wife, into his 
 arms and says in loud dramatic tones, "Yes, yes, yes, 
 God bless you. I will take you, birthmark and all. 
 I love you," as the rector proceeds and marries the 
 two couples. 
 
POEMS 
 
Our Needs 
 
 Love, Earth's greatest power, 
 
 Heat our greatest need, 
 Happiness, our richest dower, 
 
 Truth, be our only greed. 
 Home sounds sweet to many, 
 
 Mother sweeter still; 
 But Heaven, is there any — 
 
 But loves and loves at will. 
 
 Noble Deeds 
 
 There comes a time in every life. 
 
 An hour in every while, 
 And through our cares and greatest strife 
 
 A moment we may smile. 
 No battle yet was ever won, 
 
 Without the crimson gore, 
 Nor deeds of valor yet was done 
 
 Without beside it bore. 
 To he who fought and fought so well, 
 
 For honor, home and name. 
 If he should fall, a hero fell 
 
 Immortalized in fame. 
 
122 POEMS 
 
 A life — a Noble life— is one 
 
 That man and Gkxl adore, 
 By noble deeds if you succumb 
 
 You have saved a thousand more. 
 
 The Past 
 
 Into the field of romance, 
 
 Down by the brooks of tears, 
 I sit mid the v^rithered flowers 
 
 As the spectre of my past appears, 
 As I sit for an hour in the gloaming, 
 
 And live in tl]e Eden that's past, 
 *Neath the mantle of sorrow there is solace, 
 
 Tho only in dreams can it last. 
 I linger a moment in the valley — 
 
 Of Death — of all love that's untrue, 
 I hear the sweet words that reecho, 
 
 "My love it is only of you." 
 Love's melody with years may be dying, 
 
 Tho low and sweet is the tone, 
 As the swan when its soul is departing, 
 
 It gurgles its most musical groan. 
 
 The Profligate Son 
 
 The profligate, the prodigal. 
 The desecrated infidel, 
 
POEMS 123 
 
 The child that does the mother wrong, 
 The boy that loves both wine and song, 
 Her to poverty has often led; 
 Has even gambled with her bread; 
 Has even pawned her bed away. 
 And left her but the floor to lay- 
 To lay in sickness, but still to pray 
 For he that is from her away, 
 For all his iniquities and all his sins, 
 She forgives and takes him back again. 
 
 Life Not All in Vain 
 
 Life's not all in vain, 
 
 God gives the right to think of better days, 
 What is dark to us, to thee is plain 
 
 God has his ways. 
 
 Death Must Come 
 
 Time will fly. 
 
 Death must come 
 To you and I, 
 
 To every one. 
 Our sickness — last 
 
 There is no cure. 
 It's never passed 
 
 A one, 'Tis sure. 
 
124 POEMS 
 
 Earth's Necropolis 
 
 In years to come, the earth will be, 
 
 There is no other room, 
 Except repose at death in thee, 
 
 The Earth a fleeting tomb. 
 In time to come, at death's repose, 
 
 The slab that marked the lay; 
 The bricks that our cold form enclose 
 
 Will both be mortal clay; 
 The very dust, from where doth grow 
 
 The grain to feed thy kind. 
 Sprouts from the hand that once did sow 
 
 But now to all is blind. 
 When one is laid six feet below. 
 
 And from the living tore 
 The clay that covers us we know 
 
 Is only many more. 
 The time will come, in years it must. 
 
 When we're not only fed 
 By life from this once mortal dust, 
 
 But supported by the dead. 
 
 Age 
 
 Life's vain delusions have gone by. 
 
 Its idle hopes are o'er, 
 Yet age remembers with a sigh. 
 
 The days that are no more. 
 
POEMS 1:25 
 
 The Ax 
 
 Bound by the desert and the sea, 
 
 An Indian city stood — 
 Each building just a simple tree, 
 
 No brick, or stone, just wood. 
 
 One roof for all, which was the sky; 
 
 One floor that did prevail. 
 As bed on which the living lie. 
 
 The streets a narrow trail. 
 
 Where is this city, God had wrought. 
 Has it gone by steady hacks; 
 
 From woodman's hands, whose ruin sought 
 With the initial tool — the ax. 
 
 The pioneers in days gone by, 
 
 To them, we owe a bow, 
 For they have cleared, for you and I, 
 
 With the Ax that we may plow. 
 
 My Home of Youthful Days 
 I pass by the homestead now. 
 
 But only pass indeed 
 Unconscious of my reverent bow, 
 
 As onward I proceed. 
 
 r; 
 
 My eyes are on the old brick home, 
 The orchard, yard and well, 
 
126 POEMS 
 
 You sheltered and fed flesh and bone, 
 No verse one's love can tell. 
 
 Each tree, each shrub, each foot of earth, 
 I reverence each stick and stone. 
 
 Though a thousand more can ne'er be worth 
 Or seem to me like home. 
 
 Within the hall I imagine still. 
 
 With hair so wavy gray. 
 My mother sits, but "Oh ! poor Will," 
 
 I yet can hear her say. 
 
 Beneath her bated breath this one. 
 
 Since he was taken away, 
 She loved the home, but Will, her son. 
 
 Is her long litany. 
 
 ' Of all the assets for our mirth, 
 
 The one 'till death that strays. 
 This one so paramount in worth 
 Is home of youthful days. 
 
 Death is King 
 
 Death is King, it governs human tide, 
 
 'Tis King of birth yet closely allied. 
 
 From death the germ of life may sprout and grow, 
 
 It starts from death just trace the embryo. 
 
 It is a plant at first from there we start, 
 
POEMS 127 
 
 On which we're fed the glands secrete, in part, 
 
 A nucleus, once plant, now mortal seed 
 
 From this by will to mortal form may read 
 
 So far so good, but only flesh has spoke, 
 
 But when and where and how has life awoke. 
 
 The fetus now takes on the ego life, 
 
 Nee Science yet may analyze when rife. 
 
 We then may know this element is one. 
 
 That comes from out the great Oblivion, 
 
 By birth and death we come from where we go, 
 
 By this same road we travel to and fro. 
 
 Erstwhile on earth there were no living thing, 
 
 The first on earth was death, so death it must be king. 
 
 A Celestial Trial 
 
 If Pythagorian philosophy be true, 
 And transmigrating souls go on and through, 
 To another sphere where Beelzebub may be, 
 I dream I see a Heavenly tragedy, 
 Constantine, the Great, rules over all. 
 The Laberan is sceptre and its pall 
 No mutiny — but submissive to its wave. 
 As here on earth to all but that were brave. 
 Court has convened, Herod Antipas, is tried ; 
 John, the Baptist, is the Judge and by his side 
 Is Christ, his chaplain and forensic guide; 
 Joseph acts as barrister to the King, 
 
128 POEMS 
 
 St. Peter before them twelve great jurors bring, 
 
 Salome lasciviously dances o'er 
 
 To take the stand as many years before. 
 
 She danced to please the malignant heart that led. 
 
 To gratify whatever want, she plead 
 
 For John, the Baptist's, life, they were allied 
 
 For that great crime, these two were being tried. 
 
 No abnegation at this tribunal now; 
 
 They make their abjurations and their vow. 
 
 At this celestial Sanhedrim so just, 
 
 Where spilling blood is not paramount of lust, 
 
 Found guilty of that ignominious crime. 
 
 Is the sentence "Death" or is it "penal time." 
 
 From mosaic law is sentence now impelled. 
 
 Or commentaried statutes later welled. 
 
 To those the zelots clung so long an age. 
 
 Before the Christ, the Jurist and the Sage. 
 
 Sentence now imposed. It reads like love; 
 
 It comes from John as tender as a dove. 
 
 Arise, take foot, and go thy way. 
 
 Thy sins that burden— be penitent and pray, 
 
 Several spheres yet await thy coming in, 
 
 Before thou art exempt from this and other sin. 
 
 On Leaving Home. 
 
 Berlin, how can I leave thee in scorn, 
 Since you my body reared, 
 
POEMS 129 
 
 Although I leave thee forlorn, 
 
 My eyes are full of tears. 
 To leave the place where I was born; 
 
 My mother senile in years. 
 While I depart with just my form, 
 
 I will leave to you my tears. 
 
 While Looking at Raphael's Madonna 
 Peace on her brow 
 
 The Christian world extole, 
 Christ in her arms, 
 
 Heaven in her soul. 
 Both bliss on earth and heaven, 
 
 In you the child God sired. 
 
 The Hope to multitudes have given 
 
 And all the world inspired. 
 
 i 
 The Earth's Greatness 
 
 Who made the sea? 
 The bounding sea, 
 There is no power that equals thee. 
 
 Who made the levees to there confine? 
 The mountain waves of ocean brine, 
 Throughout the bordered land entwine. 
 
 Who made the monsters there within? 
 No equal to the whale has been, 
 Of the ocean great they are a kin. 
 
I30 POEMS 
 
 Who makes the tide so regular rise? 
 Is it the planets in the skies. 
 If so, the name of God applies. 
 
 To things above the power of man, 
 Superhuman make and plan, 
 And often ruled as thou command. 
 
 As great as the Ocean then may be, 
 Rule the despot not the despot thee, 
 God made and rules both man and sea. 
 
 The Benediction 
 
 O, children here within they ken. 
 
 Whilst here we live. 
 
 Whilst here we live. 
 
 Appease the latent power of men, 
 
 Whilst here we live. 
 
 Whilst here we live. 
 
 Pray unanimous for all who sin, 
 
 The Jew, the Gentile, kith or kin. 
 
 The peer, the peasant, what matter when? 
 
 You only pray for souls of men. 
 
 Whilst here we live, Whilst here we live. 
 
 The pensive prayer, 
 The contrite heart. 
 Whilst here we live. 
 
POEMS 131 
 
 Whilst here we Hve. 
 It has its subtle weight in part, 
 On future penitence we all forbear, 
 Whilst here we live. 
 
 Unite our creeds as one be given 
 
 Whilst here we live, 
 
 Make here for those from us deriven. 
 
 A birth to them what we hope of heaven, 
 
 Whilst here we live. 
 
 Whilst here we live. 
 
 Man — How Small, How Weak 
 
 Feeble man of mind tonight, 
 
 The chaos of the day. 
 View the many satellites. 
 
 Of constellation ray. 
 Oblivious viscera bow bound 
 
 Of which earth is a bit 
 The prerogative right of space around 
 
 Of space so infinite. 
 
 The light from Mars to us 
 
 And teaches us that towers 
 By virtue of our crystal lens. 
 
 There's other worlds than ours 
 Ostentatious mortals weak 
 
 God may our future plan. 
 
132 POEMS 
 
 Greater worlds and beings seek, 
 With dominion over man. 
 
 Proud man why feel above thy kind 
 
 The submissive and the meek 
 Are oft endowed with greater mind, 
 
 Though physically are weak 
 Are we judged by brutal strength, 
 
 Or egotistic ear. 
 Or what we might have been at length 
 
 Or what we really are. 
 
 Ofttimes riches vanish far. 
 
 The sweetest faces fade, 
 The brightest gems often are 
 
 From roughest mineral made. 
 Subordinate man — look far away, 
 
 At entities more unique, 
 Acknowledge truth, confess and say, 
 
 Man — How small, How weak. 
 
 Conquest of Infinite Love 
 'Tis better to live on the desert bleak, 
 
 With the environment of love about. 
 Or the remotest darkness seek 
 
 Than to brighter climes without. 
 
 Erstwhile conquest fought by men. 
 Tho' not a musket fight, 
 
POEMS 133 
 
 The balls the bayonets then, 
 We saints to proselyte. 
 
 The prayer the chief, and not the rod, 
 
 Love his strategy has given. 
 His sword the light of his father's God 
 
 His battle-field was Heaven. 
 
 The powder used was incense then. 
 
 To benison all his goal; 
 His citadel was but mortal men. 
 
 The temple of the soul. 
 
 The word of God the scepter worth 
 Divine equity from the altar rings 
 
 Throughout all nations of the earth, 
 Inspired by Christ, the King of Kings. 
 
 Love the potent factor gave, 
 
 Recreant to this enthrall; 
 He sought their lives, but to only save, 
 
 Tho died Himself for all. 
 
 Cedar Point 
 
 Days auspicious coming fast 
 Old and young are thinking. 
 
 Hearing sonnets of the past. 
 Propitious pleasures drinking. 
 
134 POEMS 
 
 Having dreams that do amount, 
 Tho not of nightly sleeping, 
 
 In day dreams can see the Point 
 Across the bay peeping. 
 
 Libation, quaff and music art, 
 Where dancing reigns serenely. 
 
 If love has never pierced thy heart, 
 The point will help so keenly. 
 
 The Coney of the middle west, 
 The bathing suits so stunning. 
 
 Ladies gowned for bathing dressed, 
 Tho only are they sunning. 
 
 But oh the time that we may loit. 
 Amid this solace feeder. 
 
 If there is bliss 'tis on this Point, 
 On sands beneath its Cedar. 
 
 Pleasure 
 A fountain as the shrine of pleasure, 
 
 With tenacious zeal we seek. 
 Nor can we see or feel yet treasure. 
 
 This great goal so strong, yet weak. 
 Life's tenor from this fountain spraying, 
 
 Stimulating in its wake, 
 To happiness all are suing, praying. 
 
 Which honest toiling seems to make. 
 
POEMS 135 
 
 In the cleric world confining, 
 
 In the factory's deafening roar, 
 Beneath the sod in peril mining, 
 
 Into wartime's nautic lore. 
 Life in all its phases seeking. 
 
 Seeking, working, gazing blind. 
 In the future unaccompanying. 
 
 For relief of heart and mind. 
 
 Ameliorate thy ways for pleasure. 
 
 Propound thy might in common all. 
 This fountain force is our own pressure, 
 
 To cause a better volume's fall. 
 You alone by your own labor. 
 
 You can reap a blissful way. 
 For thyself and for thy neighbor 
 
 To thy fount- felicity. 
 
 Each Plays Its Part 
 
 There's not a stick or stone on earth, 
 
 Or fish within the sea. 
 But plays its equal part in worth. 
 
 Or there it would not be. 
 
 Some men of egregious stamp, 
 
 More of middle lay, 
 Even the desecrated weary tramp, 
 
 Have their parts to play. 
 
136 POEMS 
 
 From the beginning of this earthly stage, 
 
 When first the curtain rose, 
 It changes Httle by its age. 
 
 Or will it till the close. 
 
 So man and mammal of this plain 
 
 And planets of the sky, 
 We know you were not made in vain. 
 
 If not the reason why. 
 
 By love the wicked man o'er power, 
 
 Such is the Christian plan; 
 The hand that made the sweetest flower 
 
 Made the wicked man. 
 
 'Tis All With Thee 
 
 Yes the alpha omega the first and the last, 
 
 The beginning, the end, the future and past, 
 
 'Tis all in the power of Him not in we 
 
 To protect or destroy with land, air or sea, 
 
 It seems at Thy will the elements obey 
 
 You destroy by earthquake, by fire burn away. 
 
 Possessions of man, slow built by their work, 
 
 Are wrecked by earth's tremors and leveled to earth. 
 
 We talk on the air planets studiously see, 
 
 Or sail crost the ocean like doves we can flee, 
 
 And circle the earth by electricity's use. 
 
 Tho man may be dead his voice can reproduce. 
 
POEMS 137 
 
 We can print and publish and build to the sky, 
 
 Or descend to the depths and in helmet keep dry, 
 
 We are great, we seem great to ourselves but until 
 
 Disaster is on us who bridles at will 
 
 Can lead us or drive us or destroy if thou choose, 
 
 All at his mercy our lives in His noose. 
 
 Turn back to tradition, read on its page, 
 
 'Tis noon as it was from the beginning of age 
 
 If experience be teacher, well may we know, 
 
 In peril tho none of us skeptically grow. 
 
 We know not the moment on the ground that we trod, 
 
 It will crumble and consume us in the bosom of God, 
 
 If taken away by the power we are blessed. 
 
 We must welcome disaster 'tis God who knows best. 
 
 Life Philosophical 
 
 The heavy laden weary soul of mortal here below. 
 
 Can bring thyself a blissful hour, by relieving an- 
 other woe; 
 
 Look into space, penetrate therein. 
 
 Think what we still may be, and what we may have 
 been. 
 
 The flower grows sweeter from its youth. 
 
 From seed to fruit 'tis everlasting truth; 
 
 Value life while here for this is certain 
 
 We know not of the worlds beyond death's gloomy 
 curtain. 
 
138 POEMS 
 
 Live on, live on, why take life at will, 
 
 All have a part to play, a place to fill. 
 
 The weak, the strong, the good, the bad, have power, 
 
 The chaff protects the grain, the bran, the flour, 
 
 Our neighbor is often favored many, many ways. 
 
 Endowed at youth with great propensities 
 
 Tho other ways have cared that would not tempt. 
 
 Exchange of troubles from which none are exempt ; 
 
 If care and troubles seem your lasting fate, 
 
 Embellish them with hope, just live and wait. 
 
 None are sure of heaven from peasant on to Pope, 
 
 To know is to die, we can only pray and hope. 
 
 If we were sure of worlds more sweet than ours. 
 
 Composed of love of harmony and flowers, 
 
 All would want to go the world might cease to be. 
 
 The land as well might burn and evaporate the sea. 
 
 The laws that are best, God willed it so. 
 
 If bliss is not in store it is best we do not know, 
 
 Make the best of life while here, why borrow, beg 
 
 or steal, 
 From fabled worlds we know not of, when ours we 
 
 Know is real. 
 
 Ordination 
 
 Whatever it has been, and ever it will be 
 
 The metamorphic elements to man and back to thee; 
 
 Man grows up to die, night follows day, 
 
POEMS 139 
 
 Evolution alters form, tho nothing wastes away, 
 
 Elements requisite to mankind, 
 
 The clay, the water and the wind, 
 
 Were kin to all — and all to one will be, 
 
 We only decompose to dust to free the form 
 
 That's old and worn and weak within. 
 
 We crumble in the grave — the womb of life again 
 
 A birth ordained — foreordained at birth to die, 
 
 It was to be some cause was fixed, some reason why. 
 
 Fair is fated not to shape its end, 
 
 The path of life's ascent the same to death does blend. 
 
 The scales equality must balance near, 
 
 Or day and night would reign in one everlasting year. 
 
 The moment the cause that caused our being array, 
 
 A cause has also caused this being to take away. 
 
 Christmas Eve* 
 Tonight, with all the incense sweeter, 
 
 I think I hear a mother's voice, 
 Tonight in prayer our hearts may feel her 
 
 Tonight the Christian would rejoice; 
 Tonight our senses clear brighter. 
 
 Our eyes but angel visions see, 
 Just by thy touch our burden's lighter. 
 
 Tonight our taste is but of thee, 
 
 *In this poem, I assume there are seven senses. I take it 
 upon myself to add the sense of thought and the sense of speech. 
 
140 POEMS 
 
 Tonight commune by our senses seven , 
 
 Tomorrow feasting will afford 
 A hallowed meal for us and heaven, 
 
 On the birthday of our Lord. 
 
 Sisters Nineveh* 
 
 Twin Sisters Nineveh with beauty so rare, 
 
 Twin Sisters Nineveh with glory and pov/er, 
 Chaldeans and Medes in Power compare 
 
 Their gift from their God, a namesake, a dower 
 They have been crowned with the glory 
 
 Not in war, but of name 
 There the "Ladies of Kingdoms" the historical story 
 
 Nineveh, Nineveh, their title of fame. 
 
 *The Sisters Nineveh were really the founders of the City of 
 Nineveh or later called Babylon on the Euphrates River, virhich 
 runs into the Persian Gulf. 
 
 The reader of this poem will see that there is no metre and 
 also the diction is rather strange for a poem, though I feel 
 closer allied to this, than to any other lines I have ever written, 
 on account of the suffering I underwent to reach the City of 
 Babylon. I traveled for 29 days on a dromedary's back with a 
 Turk and an Armenian across the Syrian desert, taking the 
 southern route, which makes the trip much more hazardous. 
 After having reached this desolate place, while I was resting at 
 the base of the hanging Gardens, admiring the ruins, I com- 
 posed this poem. I consider this moment of my life, the most 
 inspiring, as far as the archeological scenes of this earth are 
 concerned in my life. 
 
POEMS 141 
 
 These Babylonian sisters a city provoked, 
 
 "Walled Place" Babylon Nineveh no more 
 In dust, "Kouyunjik" Tepe is yoked 
 
 By the hand of Jehovah who can destroy and re- 
 store 
 The fire Hades started and afterwards stoked 
 
 By the power of Almighty and good men deplore 
 Chaldeans and Medes their prophecy revoked 
 
 Though the prophecy was true, Nineveh is no more. 
 
 Except in the dust, by strangers surveyed 
 
 The tomb "Tomb" of silence, the city outlives 
 The Gardens ahanging, Babylonians made 
 
 Still mantle the banks of the Euphrates River 
 All the minds to conceive, all the hands to construct 
 
 All the glory and fame, all their pomp and their 
 power 
 Ail the Kings that have reigned on the Ninevehen 
 dower 
 
 All the years that it lived, it died in an hour. 
 
 Fragments 
 
 "Death sprouts the germ of honor. 
 
 The absence of a composer revives his lines." 
 
 "Man with potent mind to man submissive. 
 
 Never is recreant to the entreties of woman woman 
 
142 POEMS 
 
 "Barkis is Willing" 
 Barkis, Barkis, are you willing, 
 
 I've a cottage but alone, 
 You I want, if you are willing, 
 
 To complete my little home. 
 You've inspired me to be saving 
 
 Tho a cottage 'twill be thine, 
 'Tis for you, I have been craving, 
 
 Barkis, Barkis, will you be mine? 
 
 I would like a palace for you. 
 
 With a garden all about; 
 But a cottage is sweeter with you 
 
 Than a palace is without. 
 Barkis, say that you are willing. 
 
 Say you'll be my little wife. 
 All I want is for you filling, 
 
 Cottage home, my heart, my life. 
 
 Reverence 
 We speak, yet utter not a v/ord, 
 
 Complaisantly we kneeled, we nod, 
 Each jest is seen, each thought is heard, 
 
 Of ours in prayer by God, 
 We hail the Virgin Queen as on we plead, 
 
 To saints who never turn to dross. 
 We seek asylum by prayer on every bead, 
 
 Then kiss the cross. 
 
POEMS 143 
 
 Then stoop and let your pleadings rise, 
 
 With God's sweet incense in the air, 
 'Tis only such who never dies, 
 
 Who live in prayer. 
 Solace is only found in Thee, 
 
 A boon that will condole. 
 Ask in prayer anointed be, 
 
 The language of the soul. 
 
 This Bleak, Sad Earth 
 
 My heart is weary of this bleak, sad earth; 
 
 It affords no pleasure, no love or mirth. 
 
 If death should call the roll would I shrink or sigh, 
 
 Or would I thus respond, and say "Aye-Aye." 
 
 The old whose step with measured stroke and groan 
 He takes his daily walk up street or lane. 
 Life still is sweet, there is no hateful moan. 
 The world he loves for all of senile pain. 
 
 The child whose world is all within his reach. 
 He thinks not of the labyrinth before 
 That he must pass, for this alone should teach 
 That mirth is never found alone in lore. 
 
 The Ocean's Necropolis 
 
 The entrancing anthem from the mighty wave 
 You seem by this to human soul decoy 
 
144 POEMS 
 
 Upon its breast for solace yet the grave 
 Seems ever open welcome to destroy. 
 
 The tide will ebb and flow, the storms will come and 
 go, 
 
 The ships will plow its fluted breast, 
 And well we know 'twill never show 
 
 The souls that are at rest. 
 
 No vampire's meal or student's steal 
 
 In earth's terrestrial blue. 
 Where sod should seal if it were real, 
 
 'Tis but the briny dew. 
 
 In the ocean's swell it sounds its knell 
 
 Of buried dead in peace. 
 These words, "'Twill tell— 'Tis well— 'Tis well," 
 
 My requiem shall never cease. 
 
 We Make Our God 
 
 'Tis what you do the better that you are, 
 Each little mite of good is God in he, 
 
 The atomic good we do from star to star 
 Will make a greater God for you and me. 
 
 Godfrey's Christian Crusade 
 
 With greater fervor fought he men, 
 With greater valor won, 
 
POEMS 145 
 
 When Godfrey took Jerusalem 
 Than Titus could ever done. 
 
 Titus fought for Rome and fame 
 
 And the spoils that gold accord, 
 But Godfrey fought for but the name 
 
 And cradle of our Lord. 
 
 The Saracens were his only thought, 
 
 The Holy Land his prey, 
 By desecrating they had wrought 
 
 A standard to obey. 
 
 He and his army proffered all 
 
 To God for God and Christian see 
 
 The cross their standard, on from Gaul 
 They march, this Legion co-heirs of thee. 
 
 Through many storm unsheltered night 
 With sick and hunger in their camp, 
 
 Undaunted still inspired by right. 
 They onward to Selima tramp. 
 
 As on they wend their weary way, 
 
 They view the sacred Olivet, 
 And as they kneel to pray 
 
 They see the Islam minaret. 
 
 These Koran sentinels only wake 
 There zealous passions too 
 
146 POEMS 
 
 A more formidable engine make 
 And Christian war pursue. 
 
 Now conquest reigned in zealous rage, 
 
 Greek fire in torrents fell, 
 The falchions chafed as to presage 
 
 The Mussulman to hell. 
 
 But so repulsed by wall and men 
 
 They falter in distress, 
 An apparition in their ken 
 
 Tell them to onward press. 
 
 On Calvary waves in coat of mail 
 
 Fight on with all thy lust 
 With heroic effort they now assail 
 
 And reduce the wall to dust. 
 
 Much blood was shed neath Omar's Dome, 
 
 Compassion had he none. 
 From Pagan to a Christly zone 
 
 This Christian Crusade won. 
 
 A Metamorphosis now took place 
 
 From panoply of war 
 They placed phylactery to grace 
 
 Thy tomb and this explore. 
 
 Tranquility was now at hand 
 To Godfrey still they cling. 
 
POEMS 147 
 
 Unanimously for him they stand 
 And pronounce him future King. 
 
 But Godfrey now declines. He said 
 The Christ he loves he thus forlorns 
 
 No crown of gold place on my head 
 Where Christ the King must wear the 
 
 thorns. 
 
 A Mother's Voice 
 The panegyric theme with gesture wand, 
 The General's voice, his order, his command. 
 The eulogizing memoir o'er the dead. 
 Not only lips that spoke but what they said, 
 This rhetorician Lincoln o'er the brave. 
 Encomiums at battle-field or grave; 
 At Gettysburg, what voice could ever sound. 
 As great, as good, and heard the world around, 
 The prima donna's thrill— her vocal throat 
 Expelling songs, the food of soul is note. 
 Music never shun, tho ever sought, 
 The villain's heart, its tender strains has wrought; 
 To tender harmonizing mood will quaint 
 A brute thus changed from sinner into saint. 
 The birds that charm by song in boughs above, 
 No other mammals please the poet's lyre. 
 Translate thy warble into verse inspire, 
 
148 POEMS 
 
 The meaning of thy love to mate the way, 
 
 Birds the bards of heaven, we may say ; 
 
 They sing their love, these poets of the air 
 
 For song is love on earth and everywhere, 
 
 In past, I've heard a voice, more sweet, more dear 
 
 To me my mother's lullaby I still can hear. 
 
 She rocked the cradle, keeping time with song. 
 
 I hear it still, God help me hear it long 
 
 Forensic or ecclesiastic vow. 
 
 No rhetoricians master speech allow, 
 
 Nor did Demosthenes or Cicero, 
 
 Let from their lingual organs ever flow, 
 
 A voice as tender — or a Homer write, 
 
 Or Plato philosophically a night, 
 
 E'er teach, or preach or write, or sing, or other 
 
 More pleasing sweeter — than a loving mother. 
 
 The Birds 
 Dear birds, the tree is evergreen. 
 
 The sky is ever clear. 
 You have no sorrow in your song, 
 
 No cold days in your year. 
 
 If I could fly with you. 
 
 We'd make with our small wing. 
 
 Our visit to the ocean blue, 
 And come back in the spring. 
 
POEMS 149 
 
 Could I But Dream 
 Could I live as I was dreaming, 
 And the world had all the seeming 
 In this hour of care redreaming, 
 Let me dream. 
 
 I was in a land of leisure ; 
 All our trials we've changed to pleasure 
 And the soul we mostly treasure 
 Were in dreams. 
 
 None corrupt or none in sorrow, 
 For thy placidness no horror 
 In my dream. 
 
 O my wakening, from my dreaming, 
 And the sun through window beaming, 
 O, my dream. 
 
 'Twas all over, I must get up, 
 Don my daily garb and make-up. 
 And my same old cares must take up 
 'Twas a dream. 
 
 Are not sweet dreams that have no doing, 
 In that real, real morning. 
 Like the dreams the dead are dreaming, 
 Such let me dream. 
 
150 POEMS 
 
 Abnormal Dreams 
 
 Abnormal dreams of wealth and glory, 
 
 Of seraphic lands and fabled food; 
 Away from all that's grim and gory, 
 
 In a momenf s dreaming mood. 
 Utopia Island seemed surround me, 
 
 Eldoradian riches mine. 
 Embroglio was within me 
 
 With Venus drinking nepenthe wine, 
 A molted golden lake a moving, 
 
 I, the monarch, sitting there. 
 Watching — smiling nympths their bathing, 
 
 Gold drops dripping from their hair. 
 I, the choice I had of choosing 
 
 As King David did of old. 
 All or any here a bathing, 
 
 In this lake of molted Gold. 
 
 The Castle 
 
 The Gothic castle, so arrogant, so proudly stands 
 Embellished on all sides by stately lands; 
 Its lofty walls, its facade Tunic laid. 
 With mosaic floors and mammoth colonade; 
 *Tis built to shelter or to shun at will 
 Within protect or outward it may kill. 
 Its aspect lends a beauty to all that view, 
 But only offers homage to the few. 
 
POEMS 151 
 
 Dispensing laws the part of state to play 
 By plebeian hands was built tho' must obey. 
 The walls within the Epicurus confines, 
 Drinking rounds to Bacchus — god of wines, 
 Just provoked by court's imperial grace, 
 Is wrought by idle pleasures of the place. 
 Of all the sensuous pleasure thou may sup 
 And the cloak of supreme justice covers up; 
 Nor are we judged by where our sins are sown, 
 In castle shield or by cabin known, 
 Nor can we screen the vision of thine eye. 
 For all are judged thus equal by and by. 
 
 Fragment 
 
 The heavy laden, weary soul of mortal here below, 
 Can bring thyself a blissful hour by relieving other's 
 woe. 
 
 To Mother 
 
 You can see the moistened tear 
 
 Steal boldly from my eye; 
 Have you not marked the flush of fear 
 
 Or caught the murmured sigh? 
 Nor can you think my love is chill, 
 
 Tis of you alone. 
 And can you think me doubtless still, 
 
 A heart so much your own. 
 
152 POEMS 
 
 To you my only affection move, 
 
 Away tho warm and true. 
 My life has been a task of love, 
 
 One long, long thought of you. 
 If all your tender faith be o'er 
 
 On this you may rely. 
 Alas ! I know but one proof more 
 
 I'll bless you till I die. 
 
 Ode to The Twentieth Century 
 
 This morning, when the dawn was cleared, 
 
 The mellow streaks of light we view, 
 It was the same old sun that neared 
 
 To pass the old, and commence the new. 
 Way in the eastern seas this morn, 
 
 As many score years before, 
 You have rose and set until you've born 
 
 Another century more. 
 
 Dear boon to man, the friend of earth, 
 
 When in the western seas you sink, 
 We ne'er can estimate your worth, 
 
 O God of Light we praise and think. 
 In a century past you've born the men 
 
 That's made this age, the electric age. 
 Look back in ancient times and then. 
 
 And then, there was none of such sage. 
 
POEMS 153 
 
 Tho this night we'll watch and pray, 
 
 That the coming century will be as great 
 As the seconds usher in the day, 
 
 We can only welcome thee and wait. 
 But the years that's coming in our way 
 
 We can only welcome thee, O well. 
 But the years that's dying with this day, 
 
 We can only say — farewell, farewell. 
 
 Toys 
 Those toys I see. 
 Where may the owner be. 
 Whose little fingers built. 
 Castles to fall again. 
 A flower thou was to be 
 A bud tho all to me 
 
 Must wilt. 
 Must die and go 
 Where — I do not know 
 Since from my child bereft 
 My youthful boon. 
 The one these toys mused 
 There all — tho never used 
 
 That's left. 
 
 Let Minutes be Hours 
 Let minutes be hours. 
 Let hours be years, 
 
154 POEMS 
 
 In summer and flowers, 
 
 In sorrow and tears, 
 For one is the scale 
 
 For others to weigh, 
 We must have a decanter, 
 
 To appreciate May. 
 
 Think Not of The Past 
 
 Think not of the past, 'tis too late we must borrow; 
 
 Our felicitous moments unprovidently entombed. 
 'Tis the hope of the solace that may come with the 
 morrow 
 That will brighten our present, by our future il- 
 lumed. 
 
 The Clock 
 
 Ticking, ticking, onward beating. 
 
 Ticking time away. 
 Striking hours as they're fleeting. 
 
 This is all you say. 
 How nonchalant, tho unremitting. 
 
 The pendulum into measured sway, 
 Lever at every tick admitting. 
 
 Also ticking lives away. 
 
 Ticking, ticking, still a ticking, 
 Time your only food. 
 
POEMS 155 
 
 Seems your work is never ceasing 
 
 The a head you oft intrude. 
 Judge your future by tradition 
 
 All of histories on your face, 
 Explaining time's your only missive, 
 
 Wisdom for the human race. 
 
 Ticking, ticking, striking, pointing 
 
 With their hands to mortals show, 
 More than any monarch ruling, 
 
 As they to their work and fro 
 Ticking from the cradle ticking, 
 
 Babes to man, to manhood brave, 
 To take our places those your ticking 
 
 While ours your ticking to the grave. 
 
 To Mother 
 
 fondly love and as these lines appear 
 
 The past, the present, and all time to come 
 
 1 mark remembrance to you, I love so dear. 
 Accept these thoughts from your unworthy son. 
 
 In after days revere these lines sincere, 
 
 One friendly thought I ask for you to sound. 
 
 I'll answer tho in burning climes I hear. 
 Or lonely lie beneath earth's lily mound. 
 
 And if my theme past wail or woe reminds. 
 Excuse the worst, one sigh, I ask no more. 
 
156 POEMS 
 
 ril love you still in heaven or other climes 
 Or beneath the earth or briny ocean's roar. 
 
 The Cause I'll Leave Untold 
 
 God, thy ever living host above, 
 Relieve my bleeding heart. 
 
 'Twas you that caused this soul to love, 
 
 The one you caused to part. 
 Canst Thou not mend this rupture, God, 
 
 And cease thy bleeding care. 
 Place my form beneath the sod. 
 
 And spirit v^ith you there. 
 
 Those few sweet hours are with me now, 
 The brightest days that shone 
 
 To love, but then such was my vow, 
 O blissful care, O vanished care, 
 
 This darkened life you've made. 
 While making all for her so far, 
 
 You've made my pleasures fade. 
 
 1 look back at the saddest hour. 
 When love comes to its close. 
 
 As the sun went down that blissful flower 
 Had changed its sweet repose. 
 
 She drew close to me in whispering voice, 
 And said our love must end. 
 
POEMS 157 
 
 O she, who was my love, my choice, 
 Could only be a friend. 
 
 Those few words their sharpened blades, 
 
 Have rend this heart in twain. 
 As time goes on, I deeper wade 
 
 Into love's growing main. 
 And this sad life must linger on, 
 
 With heart that's frozen cold. 
 The boon of life has from me gone, 
 
 The cause I'll leave untold. 
 
 Von Kenell* 
 I had a friend, he is no more. 
 
 Von Kenell was his name ; 
 He dearly loved his paramour, 
 
 'Tis her the world must blame. 
 He sought the hand he loved so well. 
 
 Though wooing was in vain, 
 What poet's lines can ever tell 
 
 His sorrow and his pain. 
 
 This friend of mine of tender thought, 
 
 With mental passions sweet. 
 He strove for love, but only wrought 
 
 A broken heart's defeat. 
 
 *Von Kenell was a very dear friend of mine, who shot himself 
 for a young lady, who pretended to love him, but deceived 
 him at last. 
 
158 POEMS 
 
 Copious was her love at first, 
 Though fickle as could be; 
 
 Now he is where men never thirst, 
 The profligate is she. 
 
 This friend of mine almost sublime, 
 
 Since love she would not give, 
 He sought another sphere or clime 
 
 On earth he could not live. 
 I know in Heaven Von Kenell — friend, 
 
 There is a lover's goal 
 Where souls like hers can never tend. 
 
 Though here we'll find your soul. 
 
 j All is Divine 
 
 Solace oft from sadness born 
 Weeds will grow amid the corn, 
 A standard must exist for worth 
 The scale of sadness weighs our mirth. 
 Bliss is coming, why forlorn. 
 If no night there'd be no morn. 
 
 Who would care to live on earth 
 If no death to follow birth, 
 Just worship selves and when we trod 
 No thought of brighter worlds or God, 
 Just thought and deed of me and mine, 
 Nor bliss what is of thee and thine. 
 
POEMS 159 
 
 The sunny day the stars that shine, 
 The showers that fall that we may dine 
 And live from heaven as well as home, 
 Nor should we think of self alone. 
 
 Three Score Years of Bliss 
 
 When three score years of placid life 
 
 Are imputed to a pair, 
 They now are more than man and wife, 
 
 They now resemblance bear. 
 
 The pain, the sorrow, and the strife, 
 
 In sixty years of care, 
 Has caused these boons of married life 
 
 To burdens equally bear. 
 
 The inflicted wound so painful sore. 
 
 Each other's moans they hear. 
 The one unhurt has always bore 
 
 The suffering most severe. 
 
 Music 
 Music soothes the ruffled passion, 
 
 Music rests the wearied mind, 
 It is all that's not a fashion 
 
 To its strains the eyes are blind. 
 
 The optics judge the earthly beauty. 
 Form and color movements — all. 
 
i6o POEMS 
 
 Tones are not within their beauty, 
 They upon the ears must fall. 
 
 Music strains ascend to heaven, 
 
 To join all that's spiritual. 
 The flowers incense here are given, 
 
 Room among the volatile. 
 
 Sweet aroma tone and spirit. 
 
 Earth so coarse is not their sphere, 
 
 It is loaned to inhale, to hear it. 
 Its home is far away, yet near. 
 
 Music has a subtle power 
 
 Over good, bad, large and small ; 
 
 They that music can't devour, 
 Are not spiritual at all. 
 
 My World 
 A simple urn 
 
 Contains my world, 
 Though back to ashes turn. 
 
 Within its cavity 
 Is sealed my zealous heart. 
 
 Thank God, with this it is not all depravity. 
 In the future may we meet, 
 
 The past can never change, 
 Our love was incomplete. 
 
 Heaven may the rest arrange. 
 
POEMS i6i 
 
 Why were we torn apart. 
 
 The Omniscient God has given 
 True love, on earth a start, 
 
 To always be in heaven. 
 
 Never Late 
 In the days of our contending, 
 
 The reflection of the past, 
 Of a soul we were commending, 
 
 Of a soul that was to last. 
 
 Moments spent in thus revealing, 
 Truth and law of thee for thine. 
 
 Like the blind your way are feeling. 
 To a heaven both yours and mine. 
 
 Keep on teaching, keep on preaching. 
 
 Sinners, it is never late, 
 Confess and heaven's in your reaching, 
 
 Peter's always at the gate. 
 
 You Know The Rest 
 Hark, hark, I hear the whole world's voice, 
 
 From it I hear not pity, but a curse. 
 If it were war, flood, fire, there is no choice, 
 
 But no, it's neither, it's far worse. 
 
 'Tis of a girl with beauty rare and sweet, 
 Her heritage— she was by beauty blest, 
 
i62 POEMS 
 
 Which aided partly to her doom to meet, 
 You know the rest. 
 
 It was a man, vile man — why speak, 
 
 O, morbid hungry minds, why feed, why feast. 
 
 Upon this soul ? Oh ! pity her, the weak, 
 To do the least. 
 
 She loved — this unsophisticated one, 
 
 She staked her life, there is no better test, 
 
 Upon a man, a man what might have done, 
 You know the rest. 
 
 A Waltz Song 
 Waltz in the day time, waltz in the night. 
 Keep step with the times with a jest of delight, 
 Waltz off your care while dancing through life. 
 Waltz with each other, husband and wife. 
 Make merry while dancing on this earthly ball. 
 Keep time with God's music, keep step with it all, 
 Let dance be the heaven and earth be the hall 
 So join in the mirth with foot and with tongue. 
 Each day makes us older, so live while you're young. 
 
 Chorus 
 In gaily dancing forget every care, 
 With maidens entrancing, their faces so fair. 
 With forms that are graceful, vivacious and true, 
 The world will seem brighter to me and to you. 
 
POEMS 163 
 
 Come from thy sorrow, sit not in a stare, 
 
 Alternate waltzing, it lightens our care. 
 
 And makes all sorrow more easy to bear. 
 
 Join in the chorus, sing while you dance. 
 
 Awake from thy slumbers, come forth from thy trance, 
 
 Each proffer your aid, give while you give. 
 
 To happier moments and live while you live. 
 
 Don't wait till your old for age to enthrall, 
 
 Be joyful at youth, if you're going to at all. 
 
 Death of a Child 
 
 A light went out, 
 
 'Twas freshly lit, 
 A history short, 
 
 So quickly writ. 
 
 Why born — what for, 
 
 A child so fair. 
 Loved here — and more, 
 
 Was wanted there. 
 
 Perhaps there is 
 
 In Heaven no birth. 
 So are by death. 
 
 Transferred from earth. 
 
 Conceived on earth, 
 God won't endure. 
 
l64 POEMS 
 
 Conception there, 
 Heaven is too pure. 
 
 If not for deaths, 
 
 Of children fair, 
 How could there be, 
 
 A Heaven there. 
 
 'Tis hard, yes hard. 
 
 To lay to rest, 
 A child so loved, 
 
 Yet God knows best. 
 
 I Wonder 
 
 If love were taken out of life. 
 And hearts were crushed asunder. 
 
 Would living here be worth the strife, 
 I wonder, O! I wonder. 
 
 If care and trouble were not known, 
 No blizzards, storm or thunder, 
 
 Would man both cease to pout and moan, 
 I wonder, O! I wonder. 
 
 If all were perfect on this sphere. 
 And never made a blunder, 
 
 Then would angels hover near, 
 I wonder, O! I wonder. 
 
POEMS 165 
 
 If dollars were as free as air, 
 
 And jewels classed as plunder, 
 Would trusts be then an earthly care, 
 
 I wonder, O! I wonder. 
 
PLAYS 
 
TREVA 
 
 Cast of Characters 
 
 Treva Daughter of Leon de Veau 
 
 Alexander von Kent Rural Neighbor, 
 
 son of Jacob von Kent, the neighbor of Hon. Leon de Veau 
 Jerome Lathrope 
 
 . . An acquaintance of Alexander von Kent from London 
 
 Bacell Butler of the De Veau family 
 
 Amous Levingsworth 
 
 Of Bristol, England, and a friend of Jerome 
 
 Reverend McLaren 
 
 The vicar is Amous Levingsworth. He disguises himself 
 
 as a minister of the Gospel of Scotland. 
 
 Caroline de Veau Mother of Treva 
 
 Florence Aspenwall Treva's London lady friend 
 
 Reverend Kempp Of London 
 
 Henry de Veau Brother of Treva 
 
 Aaron Thompson London Neighbor of Treva 
 
 Eva Sister of Aaron Thompson 
 
 Act I 
 
 Garden of her father, Hon. Leon de Veau. 
 
 Trevi and Alex von Kent enter together. Alex, 
 how glad I am you called this afternoon, I do get 
 so lonely these days, father is away so much, and 
 
170 PLAYS 
 
 living out here in this rural district is so different 
 than the city where so many call. And you know, 
 Alex, you are so entertaining. Oh, Lady Treva, 
 you flatter me. I would call oftener, it is not that I 
 do not care to come, but of late Jerome Lathrope 
 has been making such frequent visits here, and I 
 can see from yonder window that he becomes so 
 enthused while conversing with you. Ha Ha, Alex, 
 he is of a very nervous temperament, which causes 
 him to put his whole soul into his conversation, yet 
 he is wholly unconscious of it. Well, Alex, to change 
 the subject, will you not have some cool drink. Here 
 comes Bacell now. 
 
 Enter Bacell. 
 
 Lady Treva to Bacell. Bring us some of the 
 same. You know by this time Alex's choice. Ba- 
 cell. Yes, Lady. 
 
 Enter Jerome. Good afternoon, Lady Treva. Von 
 Kent, I believe. 
 
 Lady Treva. Yes, Von Kent is right. Jerome, 
 sit down and have a cooling draught with us. (Je- 
 rome sits by them.) 
 
 Bacell enters with tray. 
 
 Enter Levingsworth, unknowrf to the rest of the 
 party. (Jerome arises and introduces his friend to 
 the party.) 
 
PLAYS 171 
 
 Jerome. I take great pleasure in presenting to 
 you Mr. Levingsworth, my friend from Bristol. 
 
 Treva. Delighted to meet you. 
 
 Alex. Pleased, I assure you. (They all sit at 
 this garden bench.) Enter Bacell. Bacell, I see, 
 your party has somewhat increased. Will you not 
 wait? 
 
 Lady Treva (interrupting.) Yes, Bacell, you may 
 bring some more of the same. (Then to Mr. Lev- 
 ingsworth.) Where do you reside, Mr. Levings- 
 worth ? 
 
 Levingsworth. At Bristol, Lady Treva. 
 
 Lady Treva. The reason I ask so abruptly, Mr. 
 Levingsworth — Enter Bacell. Oh, here is Bacell. 
 (He spreads the glasses before them.) 
 
 Levingsworth. What was the remainder of the 
 sentence you were relating as the butler appeared. 
 (As they were about to offer a party toast.) 
 
 Lady Treva. Oh, yes, Mr. Levingsworth. The 
 name Levingsworth always reminds me of a Mr. 
 P. A. Levingsworth who, a few years ago, though 
 not from your city, this gentleman lived in Clifton. 
 (Levingsworth looks worried, the glass shakes in his 
 hand, and he becomes very nervous.) 
 
 Alex. Lady Treva, you do not mean the Levings- 
 worth who tried to blackmail your father. 
 
 Levingsw^orth. Great God! (The glass drops 
 
172 PLAYS 
 
 from his hand and they all rise from the table in 
 astonishment. ) 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 Act II 
 
 Mr. Levingsworth's bachelor apartments on St. 
 Jacobs Wells Road, Bristol.* 
 
 Enter Levingsv/orth and Jerome Lathrope. 
 Lathrope. Well, friend Levingsworth, have you 
 got over your nervous shock of yesterday P. M. yet? 
 
 Levingsworth. No indeed, Jerome. It was all 
 too plain to me, the picture was all too plain to me. 
 Oh, the peregrinations of a young man. Oh, if I 
 had not committed myself, I love her, Jerome, I 
 love her. I have not seen her since she was a child 
 until yesterday, and even then I did not know who 
 she was until those fatal words from those innocent 
 
 *The City of Clifton and Bristol join one another. This P. 
 Amous Levingsworth was the identical Levingsworth who tried 
 to ruin Mr. Leon de Veau, Lady Treva's father a few years 
 ago. He was living at Qifton at that time, but since then had 
 dropped the P. from his name and was living in Bristol. Yet, 
 when he entered the garden unexpectedly that evening, he did 
 not know that Mr. De Veau was living there or that Lady 
 Treva had grown to such an age. He knew Mr. De Veau had 
 a daughter, but she had grown out of his recollections. How- 
 ever, when Alex spoke those few words he was sure who she 
 was. — H. L. c. 
 
PLAYS 173 
 
 lips were spoken, then I knew all. Yes, all. It was 
 all too plain then. 
 
 Jerome. Love her, love her, how can you love a 
 woman and only know her a few moments? 
 
 Levings WORTH. Love, my dear friend, in this case 
 in an intuition with me. I have always loved her, 
 I love her and always will love her when I glance 
 into those love scintillating eyes. Yesterday they 
 transformed me at once. They made me angry for 
 her bright charms. Yes, angry ; I will have her yet. 
 I will, I love her, her beauty will make me a lamb 
 or a lion, her love for me in return will make me a 
 villain or a saint. Oh, that I had not made those 
 self-exposing demonstrations yesterday. She would 
 never know and her father would never know, as I 
 have so changed since then, and when I was in India 
 they got the report that I died of fever. But this 
 may defeat me now. But if it does I will rule or 
 ruin. 
 
 Jerome. Oh, no, no, no, you would not harm a 
 sweet innocent girl like Lady Treva, would you? 
 Calm yourself, you are excited, it is just an imagina- 
 tion with you. You do not love her as much as you 
 say, you do if you would honor her. Though if 
 you do or do not, Amous, you have befriended me 
 in ways I never can repay you, so here's my hand, 
 brother; I will resort to most anything to help you 
 
174 PLAYS 
 
 in any way I can, but they say that Alex Von Kent 
 and Lady Treva are engaged to be married, so if that 
 is true, Amous, you are a Httle late; however, I and 
 Alexander are on good terms and I asked him by 
 long distance telephone this morning if it were true 
 that they were. 
 
 Levings WORTH. And what answer. 
 
 Jerome. Well, Amous, I am sorry to say, that 
 my own heart bleeds as well as yours. I love her, 
 too, and have for a long time; she is engaged to 
 Alexander, and they are to be married soon, but it 
 has enraged me as well as you. He scoffs at me and 
 makes his brag that he has beat me, but I will down 
 him yet. I will not let him know my vengeance for 
 him, but will ruin his happiness and hers too. 
 
 Levingsworth. Yes, and I will help you. We 
 will drink on this. (They get the decanter and 
 drink.) Here's to the fall of Alexander the Great. 
 
 Jerome. Yes, but by w^hat means without incrim- 
 inating ourselves. 
 
 Levingsworth. I have it. You stay on the good 
 side of Alexander, as you have said sugar will catch 
 more flies than vinegar, and we will arrange a false 
 marriage for them. 
 
 Jerome. But the Church of England. 
 
 Levingsworth. They are not Church of England 
 
PLAYS 175 
 
 people. Lady Treva's father is an agnostic, he does 
 not care for custom or creed. 
 
 Jerome. True it is. I had not thought of that, 
 but it is true. But the Hcense. 
 
 Levingsworth. Let them get the Hcense, and 
 you, Jerome, tell Alex that he must allow you to get 
 the clergyman, a friend of yours from Edinburg, to 
 marry him, and you can get some one to don the 
 ecclesiastical garb and pronounce them man and wife* 
 Then in a few days let him know by anonymous letter 
 that the vicar was an impostor and fraud, and not an 
 ordained preceptor of the word of God. I guess that 
 will pour vengeance upon them. (As they hear the 
 church organ and choir next door at prayer meeting, 
 they sink in their chair in deep meditation, a contrite 
 look of penitence on their faces as the curtain is go- 
 ing down.) 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 Act III 
 
 The rural home of the Leon de Veau family. 
 
 Enter Father De Veau. (Sitting at his center 
 table alone, waiting for the few moments to pass 
 that he will be obliged to witness the nuptial loss of 
 his daughter Treva, he soliloquizes.) Few, but few 
 moments more, will Treva be mine. Yet why should 
 
176 PLAYS 
 
 I lament, Alex is a good man. Though not of 
 earthly position, he is endowed with erudition, which 
 is better. 
 
 Enter Caroline. Dear husband, why so pensive, 
 why care you to meditate so assiduously and long. 
 Dear, you are not sorry our Treva is going to be 
 married to Alexander this evening, are you, husband? 
 
 Leon de Veau. Oh, no, I am not sorry, but it 
 is such a sudden change in our household, and I feel 
 that Treva will not be altogether happy. 
 
 Caroline. O you must not think that way; look 
 for the best, seek and you shall find. Now brace up, 
 husband. 
 
 Enter Treva. 
 
 Caroline. Here is Treva in her wedding trous- 
 seau. You have never looked as sweetly in your life, 
 Treva. (They both embrace her.) 
 
 Enter Alexander. Good day, Madam. Good day, 
 Senor. Good day, Senorita. 
 
 Father. I am so glad we are going to have a 
 quiet home wedding. 
 
 Mother. Just our own, except Jerome and the 
 Scotch Congregational minister. 
 
 Treva. Father looks at his watch. 'Tis just 6 145, 
 15 minutes. I wonder — O here is Jerome and the 
 vicar now coming right in. 
 
 Jerome. (At one side in a whisper.) How 
 
PLAYS 177 
 
 stunning, are you sure you are not making a mis- 
 take, Treva. I know you will regret your indiffer- 
 ence toward me some day. 
 
 Treva. Jerome, this is no time or place to dis- 
 cuss such things, and I think a little late in the day. 
 I love Alex and Alex alone, and God help me to 
 always love him. 
 
 McLaren, (the vicar.) Weddings always make 
 me nervous, they are quite like funerals. (McLaren 
 is Levingsworth disguised with the vicar's dress. He 
 is very nervous and so afraid they will detect him.) 
 Is not the time arrived. (He tries to change his 
 voice and make it ridiculously loud and unbecoming 
 a minister. At this moment Alexander and Treva 
 stand up together, father and mother near, Jerome 
 standing near Alexander. Florence Aspenwall of 
 London rings the door bell. Bacell answers the call.) 
 
 Treva. I have never told her of this, what will 
 I do. 
 
 Mother. Why, Treva, just invite her in, you 
 will have to make a clean breast of it. Now lead 
 her in, Bacell. 
 
 Enter Florence. What does this all mean? 
 
 Treva. What — / am to be married. 
 
 Florence. Why in the world 
 
 Treva. I wanted to surprise you; we are having 
 
178 PLAYS 
 
 a quiet wedding, but as you are here, you might stay. 
 How did you happen to come? 
 
 Florence. O, I have had such horrid dreams of 
 you of late, I have been forced to come. But I can 
 see all now. They say dreams always come out just 
 the opposite. O, I am so lucky anyhow to have come 
 just as I have. 
 
 Treva. As long as you are here, you may act as 
 bridesmaid. 
 
 McLaren. Well, we are losing time. (As Flor- 
 ence looks at him with a piercing glance she questions 
 herself, where she has seen the man before. I do not 
 like his looks, he does not act right, she thought. 
 They stand and are married, and leave for London 
 at once. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 Act IV 
 
 Treva's father's city home on Victoria St., London. 
 (Father and mother are sitting at the table waiting 
 for the London News, as Alexander rings. Alex and 
 Treva enter and embrace each other. Bacell con- 
 gratulates them in his way. Florence enters, embraces 
 them. Florence has stayed at their home at the re- 
 quest of Mrs. De Veau. Jerome rings. Is met by 
 Bacell, and congratulates them. Bell rings. Aaron 
 
PLAYS 179 
 
 Thompson and Sister Eva, Treva's London neighbors, 
 enter. As congratulations are proffered, they sit down 
 to a repast with Alexander as host and Treva as 
 hostess. They drink to their future happiness. Je- 
 rome proposes a short game of whist. They, eight 
 in number, proceed to dance after this. Bell rings.) 
 
 Enter Bacell. Master De Veau, a telegram for 
 you. 
 
 De Veau. Bring it hither. (Father faints. Falls 
 over. They rush to him. Treva reads aloud) 
 
 Mr. Leon de Veau, or to whom it may concern. 
 
 Your daughter Treva was falsely married to Alexander von 
 Kent. McLaren was an impostor. 
 
 Alexander. What can this mean? Is it true? 
 Jerome, answer this, I demand of you. Have you 
 and Levings worth contrived to ruin me? (Jerome 
 hangs his head with no answer.) 
 
 Treva. What can it all mean? 
 
 Florence. I did not like the looks of that Rev- 
 erend McLaren. I have seen him before. I think 
 he is an impostor. I thought something wrong the 
 evening of the wedding. 
 
 Treva. If Jerome is guilty, Alexander, you are 
 guilty. You certainly would have known of it, a 
 man of the world as you are. 
 
 Jerome. Yes, he did know it, and I knew it. He 
 got me to do it. He wanted you, but did not want 
 
i8o PLAYS 
 
 to even be tied to you. I am sorry I did it, and espe- 
 cially for this scoundrel, as I love you so well. 
 
 Treva. You, you infamous wretch, you have 
 ruined me, you have crushed my heart, my parents' 
 hearts, my happiness, my reputation ! Go, you scoun- 
 drel, go! (Alexander at this moment knocks Jerome 
 down. Father orders them out of the house.) 
 
 Alexander. I will prove my innocence. (Bacell 
 drags Jerome out.) 
 
 Alexander. O, believe me, Treva, do not treat 
 me thus, let me stay. 
 
 Treva. No, go! (As she points to the door.) Go! 
 go! go! Never darken my door again. (He goes. 
 Treva falls to the floor.) 
 
 Curtain falls. 
 
 Act V 
 
 Interior of Mr. Leon de Veau's home on Victoria 
 St., London. 
 
 (Three years have elapsed since the fatal wedding. 
 Alexander von Kent becomes despondent and melan- 
 choly, and accepts a position in Lucknow, India, under 
 the British Consulate. Nevertheless, Treva's scorn 
 does not alter his love for her, as he knows as no 
 other does, that he is innocent, but his being from 
 her so long, and the scenery of India, with his mel- 
 
PLAYS i8i 
 
 ancholy temperament, inspires him to write the most 
 beautiful lyric poetry. So beautiful indeed, that he 
 not only is lionized in India, but by the English 
 speaking people in general, and through the publica- 
 tion of this poetry, by the help of the Viceroy and 
 Vicerine of India, he has attained both wealth and 
 honor. Treva reads his poems in the papers and 
 periodicals. Her father is facing financial embarrass- 
 ment, which has got to be overcome soon or he will 
 lose all. Jerome is paying attention to Treva. Treva 
 is reluctant to have him call, but he is rich and offers 
 to help her father out of his financial difficulties, if 
 she will accept his proposal. Her father is anxious 
 she should on this account.) 
 
 Enter Treva. Oh, if I had not been so rash with 
 Alex, why did I treat him so. I feel he is innocent. 
 A man who can write such pathetic lines, lines that 
 the whole world reads with such assiduity, can not 
 be what I have accused him of being, but it is too 
 late now. All is lost. 
 
 Enter Father. Treva dear, I know you do not 
 love Jerome as you should, but you will have to marry 
 him, as he told me at the club last evening that for 
 your hand he would help me out of my troubles, and 
 it thus lies in your power. Treva, I will fail and be 
 imprisoned for my speculations if you do not. Will 
 you, will you for me and mother, Treva? 
 
1 82 PLAYS 
 
 Treva. (In pensive mood for a moment.) Yes, 
 father, for you, for you and mother, but I dislike him 
 so, but to save you and mother I must, I will, father. 
 
 Father. God bless you. All will come out well 
 in the end I know, my angel. (Bell rings.) 
 
 Enter Bacell. Mr. Jerome. 
 
 Treva. Bid him enter. 
 
 Enter Jerome. Good evening, Treva. 
 
 Treva. Good evening. 
 
 Jerome. Good evening, Mr. De Veau. 
 
 De Veau. Good evening, Jerome. I will leave 
 you to yourselves now, good night. 
 
 Jerome. Treva, I have something of the utmost 
 importance to us both. Treva, I love you, I love 
 you madly, I cannot live without you, you must an- 
 swer my request and answer it in the affirmative. 
 Treva, you must be my wife, will you, will you? 
 (Treva is silent for a moment.) Answer me, Treva. 
 You know how your father is fixed. I have agreed 
 to help him out of his troubles. He has used the 
 bank's money and has lost, and if he is not helped 
 soon in replacing the amount he will be imprisoned. 
 Answer me, there is but one way, answer that yes 
 or no. 
 
 Treva. Yes. (In a low whisper.) 
 
 Jerome. God bless you, I will make you happy, 
 Treva. I know I can. 
 
PLAYS 183 
 
 Treva. Only death can make me happy now. I 
 have given my answer which I will abide by, but 
 will ask one favor of you, that is, leave me to myself 
 now. I am not feeling well this evening, and wish 
 to be alone. 
 
 Jerome. I will do it to please you, as you have 
 me, so kiss me good night. Good night. 
 
 Treva. (Alone to herself as she walks the floor.) 
 My God, must I marry this infamous wretch that I 
 feel in my heart has caused my broken heart. How 
 can any good come from him. Well, I suppose I 
 must marry him for father's sake. Oh, if I could 
 see Alex just one moment. The only balm for my 
 burning breast is his sweet caresses. God bring him 
 to me. (Treva picks up the evening paper and sees 
 a short poem, 'Tove's Intrigue," by Alexander von 
 Kent, of Lucknow, India. She glances over it. The 
 last verse she reads aloud as follows : 
 
 An English maiden far away, 
 
 Once loved me dear, 
 Intrigue of others did allay, 
 
 Her love I fear 
 Tho "What ever is, is right," Pope 
 
 From here so far inspired my pen, 
 To write for honor, wealth and hope 
 
 And win my Treva back again, (Bell rings). 
 
 Enter Florence. Why, Treva, how unhappy you 
 look, what is the matter, dear? 
 
i84 PLAYS 
 
 Treva. Florence, I am so glad you called. It is 
 late, I know, but God must have sent you here. Flor- 
 ence, I have got to marry that wretch Jerome, you 
 know why. I told you about papa's troubles, and he 
 is going to help papa or I would not look at him. 
 
 Florence. Treva, do you not wish you had held 
 your temper now, and not been quite so abrupt with 
 Alex. Just think what he has got to be. 
 
 Treva. Alex, dear boy, how I have used him, yet 
 I love him, I can never love another. 
 
 Florence. Yes, and he loves you, Treva. Here 
 is a letter I got this A. M. from Lucknow, India, 
 from Alex. Read it. 
 
 Treva. (Reading.) 
 
 Lucknow, India. 
 Florence : T have heard that Treva's father is in straightened 
 circumstances. I am rich now, and will soon come home. I 
 will not see any of the family suffer. Though Treva has treated 
 me so badly do not tell him. I will surprise them all when I 
 do come. Your far-away friend, 
 
 Alexander von Kent. 
 
 My dear boy, how I wish you were here tonight 
 (as she kisses the letter and crushes it in her hands), 
 but he is in India, and I am here, I do not know what 
 to do. Father must be helped by the eighteenth. To- 
 day is the sixteenth. I must marry him. O God, 
 have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me. O, 
 but Florence, I have good news for you, dear. Dear 
 
PLAYS 185 
 
 Brother Henry has come home. You know he has 
 been gone over a year, and he said he loved you for 
 all that had happened. Why did you act so abrupt 
 with him? Florence, he loves you and said he could 
 not live without you. 
 
 Florence. When did he come? God bless his 
 dear heart, I have suffered everything since I told 
 him to leave me that evening, but I did not mean it 
 the next moment, though could not retrieve what I 
 did. Has he forgiven me? 
 
 Treva. Yes, Florence. Florence, he is in the 
 library. He does not know you are here. Shall I 
 ring for him? 
 
 Florence. Yes, yes, but O, I can hardly face him. 
 O what will I do, what can I say? (Treva rings.) 
 
 Enter Bacell. 
 
 Treva. Tell Henry to come in, Florence Aspen- 
 wall wishes to see him. 
 
 Enter Henry. (As he opens the door he stands 
 for a moment. Florence hears him open the door. 
 She turns and puts her arms around Treva's neck and 
 sobs and is reluctant about turning, but Henry ad- 
 vances toward her slowly and speaks in a low tone.) 
 Florence, Florence, have you forgiven me, have you 
 forgiven me? (When she turns and looks into his 
 eyes, they embrace each other with emotion.) 
 
1 86 PLAYS 
 
 Florence. It is all my fault, Henry. I will know 
 how dear you are now. God bless you. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 Act VI 
 
 Interior of the Church of England. (Friends are 
 waiting. The organ plays the wedding march. 
 Father and mother sit at the altar. The vicar is 
 ready as the organ begins to play. Treva and Jerome 
 march in toward the altar. As Treva walks along 
 she repeats to herself: "If Alex were only here!" 
 At this moment Alex enters pale with anguish as 
 he steps to the front, his hat drawn down over his 
 eyes.) 
 
 Alex. (Cries out.) My God, Treva, are you to 
 marry that villain! (As Alex turns toward the altar, 
 they are being married. Treva sees him. She is 
 excited, and does not answer the priest's questions. 
 Alex looks anxious and beckons for her to come.) 
 
 Vicar. Treva, will you love, honor, and obey 
 Jerome? (She does not answer, or so low it is not 
 audible.) 
 
 Vicar. Do you take Jerome for your true and 
 lawful husband? 
 
 Treva. No! No! (She slips the ring from her 
 
PLAYS 187 
 
 finger, throws it to the floor, and rushing towards 
 Alex they embrace each other.) 
 
 Alex. (Exclaims.) Just in time! I will take 
 you, love you, save you and father. God how good 
 you are! 
 
 Curtain. 
 
THE MAN BEHIND THE SCREEN 
 Cast of Characters 
 
 Mr. Minor Gordon Husband 
 
 Mrs. Stella Gordon His Wife 
 
 Mr. Marion McFall 
 
 A single man, at one time a lover of Mrs. Stella Gordon 
 Miss Stella Ransom . . Cousin of Mrs. Gordon, an Old Maid 
 
 The scene is a drawing room in a cozy little suite 
 of rooms in a flat, the home of Minor Gordon and 
 wife, Stella, also his cousin Stella, who has made her 
 home with them. 
 
 Enter Minor Gordon. (As he takes a seat by a 
 little center table he mutters to himself as his wife 
 enters.) I and Stella have been married five years 
 today, and God knows what a pleasant five years it 
 has been, never a word between us, no secrets, nothing 
 but love. 
 
 Enter Stella Gordon. Good evening. Minor 
 dear (as she places her arms about his neck). You 
 are not reading the evening paper as usual. Here it 
 is right before you, but you have not looked at it. 
 You have such a pensive look on your face. What 
 were you thinking, dear, as I entered? 
 
PLAYS 189 
 
 Minor (smiles and places his arm around Stella's 
 neck.) I was thinking of you, dearest, thinking of 
 today being the fifth anniversary of our marriage, 
 and what a pleasant five years it has been. 
 
 Stella. Yes, dearest, that is true, today is the 
 seventeenth of June. I had never thought until you 
 had spoken of it. O how time does fly when you are 
 in love. 
 
 Minor. Yes, indeed it does. I hope we may al- 
 ways be as happy as now. Dear, I am sorry now 
 that I thought of this evening being our fifth anni- 
 versary that I am going out; but I must go to the 
 Club tonight. I promised Marion McFall I would 
 go tonight and also others, so I will have to go. 
 
 Stella. Well, I will let you off tonight, dear, but 
 you must stay at home the rest of the week every 
 evening. 
 
 Minor. Yes, Stella dear, I will (as he takes his 
 hat, kisses her, and goes to the club.) 
 
 Enter Stella Ransom. Has Minor gone? 
 
 Stella Gordon. Yes, he has gone to the Club. 
 
 Stella Ransom. O, he is always going to the 
 Club, the Club, the Club. Dear, these men, these 
 men, how they do contrive to get away from their 
 wives. O, if I had a husband, I bet he would stay 
 home with me. Then, too, he w^ould not care to go 
 from me, for I have such magnetic influence over 
 
190 PLAYS 
 
 men. Of course you know I could have married 
 long since, but it was my fault I have not met my 
 ideal of a man yet, unless it is Mr. McFall. He 
 comes the nearest being my choice of all the men I 
 have met. (She says this in an old maidish way 
 with an arrogant, independent, self-confident manner.) 
 
 Stella Gordon. Yes, cousin, did you not know 
 that prior to my marriage to Minor, I thought of 
 Marion as you do. I idolized, I loved him. He was 
 my first, my best, my only love. I married for spite. 
 We had a quarrel and fell out with each other as 
 lovers often do. Then Minor came along and I mar- 
 ried him. O, why did I do it, why did I do it, my 
 own judgment at the time told me I was doing some- 
 thing I would regret. (As she passes up and down 
 with her head drooping, Stella Ransom says nothing 
 as yet, but has a disgusted look on her face as she 
 stares at Mrs. Gordon.) But it is too late now, too 
 late. I married Minor and I must live with him, 
 perform my domestic duties, and go on as I have in 
 the past, pretending to care for him, yet I do care 
 for him. I respect him, and would do anything for 
 him, for he is deserving of it all. He is an upright, 
 honest, devoted man, but after all I cannot say, I 
 love, for I do not. 
 
 Stella Ransom (in a sarcastic manner). Well, 
 well, I am surprised at you. I never would have 
 
PLAYS 191 
 
 thought this of you. You must be losing your mind. 
 It is disgusting, simply disgusting, to hear this con- 
 fession you have just uttered. Well, well, I gave 
 you credit for having more sense than that. Well, 
 well, I am astonished. Why did you not tell me 
 before ? 
 
 Stella Gordon. I have never felt in the mood as 
 I do just now. Well, feeling as I do has never 
 caused any domestic infelicity. I have borne up and 
 have appeared the best I could to be happy and to 
 love him at all times, so I am deserving of some 
 commendation at least, do you not think so? 
 
 Stella Ransom. No, no, I do not. I think you 
 should be ashamed of yourself. I have no sympathy 
 or pity for you. Now you must learn to love Minor 
 and forget Marion, for I am sure he cares for me — 
 he has been here to see me but few times, but I can 
 see a thing or two. Well, I promised to go to the 
 Thimble Bee tonight, and I must be going, so good- 
 night and think over what you have said to me. 
 Good night (as she steps out). 
 
 Stella Gordon (sits alone and mutters to her- 
 self). Yes, she thinks Marion cares for her. If she 
 only knew what I do (as she laughs aloud), that all 
 he comes to see her for is to be near me. (The 
 door bell rings.) 
 
 Enter Marion McFall. Good evening, my dear- 
 
192 PLAYS 
 
 est Stella, good evening. Are you alone and have 
 you got to sit out this long evening by yourself. O, 
 if I could only be here with you. (He sits on the 
 arm of her chair and places his arm about her neck.) 
 How different things might have been, Stella, had you 
 not married. O ! cruel fate. I can never marry now% 
 of you I dream and write and think all the time. By 
 the way, Stella, I have wa-itten a short poem today, 
 and it was my love for you that inspired me to write 
 (as he bends over to kiss her). 
 
 Stella. No, no, that will not do, Marion, I must 
 not let you kiss me. You must remember, I am a 
 married woman. We have gone far enough as it is, 
 but do let me see your poem. I wish to know the 
 theme. Have you it here with you? 
 
 Marion. Yes, here it is in my pocket, but I can- 
 not let you see it as yet, for I have not corrected it, 
 and I also wish to copy it on my typewriter. I will 
 show it to you when I come again. 
 
 Stella. Very well, do not forget now. 
 
 Marion. Well, I must be going, I am late now. 
 I promised to meet your husband at the Club tonight. 
 Just think of it, my being as false as that to sit and 
 talk, play billiards, smoke and be sociable with the 
 man I care so little for, one whom I am jealous of, 
 one who I feel is in my place, but you know I must 
 be friendlv to be able to come to the house so I can at 
 
PLAYS 193 
 
 least see you. So good-night, dear (as they clasp 
 hands and part). 
 
 Enter Stella Ransom. After I left you I felt I 
 had not been perhaps the pleasantest to you, so could 
 not enjoy myself at the Thimble Bee until I came 
 home and made restitution for what I said, and Mrs. 
 Lovelace wants you to come back with me to the Bee. 
 I told her you were alone this evening, and were un- 
 usually lonely anyway. Now do come, will you, you 
 will enjoy it so much. You know they are such 
 pleasant gatherings. We discuss such interesting 
 topics, now do come. 
 
 Stella Gordon. No, no, it is out of the question. 
 I do not care to go to hear a lot of old maids gossip 
 about the doings of their neighbors. It would be 
 very tiresome to me. 
 
 Stella Ransom. Old maids, old maids, umph, 
 who do you call old maids? Not myself, I hope. If 
 some twenty-four years, I feel as frisky and young 
 as a lamb. Well, stay at home if you want to and 
 think of your lost one Marion. I am sure he does not 
 think of you (as she goes out again). 
 
 Stella Gordon. How different we are, what a 
 difference in people. (The door bell rings.) 
 
 Enter Marion McFall. Why, what brings you 
 here at this hour. Why, Marion, what makes you 
 
194 PLAYS 
 
 look so worried, and I smell liquor on your breath. 
 What is the matter, what is it? 
 
 Marion. My God, Stella, at the Club tonight as 
 I and Minor were playing billiards, we both took 
 our coats off and laid them on a large chair near by. 
 The chair was knocked over by some one and several 
 old letters fell out of my pocket, among them was 
 the poems I wrote which I was telling you about. 
 The porter picked them up, placed them in his pocket 
 by mistake. I never missed them until after Minor 
 had gone. I have looked for him to demand them, 
 but cannot find him anywhere. What can I do, what 
 shall I do? At the bottom of the poem I wrote ex- 
 plaining the lines of the second verse, and telling how 
 much I loved Stella and how you had reciprocated my 
 love as much as you could under the circumstances. 
 What shall I do, what can I do to get the poem. 
 (They hear someone on the steps.) 
 
 Stella. That is Minor, now hurry, do go— no, 
 'tis too late. What will he think if he catches you 
 here at this time with me alone. Hurry, hurry, get 
 behind the screen. (She hurries and places the screen 
 about him in one corner of the room.) 
 
 Enter Minor Gordon. (As he enters he does not 
 give her the usual good evening and kiss her. He 
 looks very stern, walks up and down the room, throws 
 his hat clear over in the corner behind the screen 
 
PLAYS 195 
 
 where Marion is, not knowing, of course, that Marion 
 is there.) What makes you look so nervous this 
 evening, guilty conscience, I suppose. Stella, how 
 you have been deceiving me for the last five years, 
 you wretch, pretending to love me and love another. 
 O woman, you will be the profligate, not me. 
 
 Stella. (Interrupting him.) Why what 
 
 Minor. (As he stamps his foot on the floor.) Not 
 a word out of you. Wait, woman, wait, I have the 
 floor now. 
 
 Stella. Why Minor, what 
 
 Minor. Stop, stop, not a word from those false 
 lips of yours. I have found a poem written by your 
 admirer or lover, our friend, our intimate friend, 
 Marion McFall. Here it is, read it (as he hands it 
 over to her.) There he puts his love in verse and 
 his explanatory notes below, so you can thoroughly 
 understand every meaning. Now, Stella, we have 
 been married five years tonight. Little did I think in 
 the early part of the evening that our fifth anniver- 
 sary would be celebrated in this manner. You have 
 deceived me. You shall not again. Get on your 
 things, you shall not stay under my roof another 
 night. Leave me, leave me. 
 
 Enter Stella Ransom. (She takes in the situa- 
 tion at a glance, but stands there dumbfounded, not 
 saying a word. Marion McFall comes from behind 
 
196 PLAYS 
 
 the screen just as Minor is saying "Leave me'* the 
 last time. Minor Gordon falls back in a much sur- 
 prised gesture.) 
 
 Minor. And what does this mean, and here he is 
 in my house. My God, my God. 
 
 Marion. (In a heavy tone.) No, no, she shall not 
 leave this house. She shall not leave for one moment. 
 You are beside yourself over that poem that was 
 accidently placed in your pocket. Calm yourself, calm 
 yourself, let me have the poem. See here, did I say 
 anything in the poem that should cause this emotion 
 in you. I called here at this hour to get the poem, 
 as when I missed it I was afraid you would form a 
 wrong idea. But the poem has nothing to do with 
 your wife Stella at all. It is this Stella, Stella Ran- 
 som (as he starts for her and takes her hand) at this 
 moment. 
 
 Minor. (As he looks down to the floor as though 
 ashamed of what he has done, he says to his wife, as 
 he hugs her up close to him). Will you forgive me? 
 
 Curtain. 
 
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