
 
 
 
 
 <#». x-^'*' ** 
 
 6^"-. 
 
 V 
 
 ..«* /^ 
 
 
LET ME THINK A MOMENT. Pcige 81. 
 
 Frontispiece. 
 
BROWN STUDIES 
 
 OR 
 
 CAMP FIRES AND MORALS 
 
 BY/ 
 
 GEORGE H. HEPWORTH 
 
 AUTHOR OF "HIRAM GOLF'S RELIGION," 
 "HERALD SERMONS," ETC. 
 
 ¥ 
 
 
 NEW YORK 
 E. P. BUTTON & COMPANY 
 
 31 West Twenty-third Street 
 1895 
 
 ^ 
 
7^ 
 
 \V 
 
 Copyright, 1895, 
 By E. P DUTTON & COMPANY 
 
CONTE^T^. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Into the Woods 5 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 Do Flowers Have Souls? 34 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 Logs and Love 57 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Families in Boxes 75 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Mistakes in Marriage. 97 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 My Lost Margaret 130 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A Man's World 152 
 
 3 
 
4 CONTEXTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Some Curious Problems 180 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Why Do We Marry? 210 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Was it a Vision ? 243 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 Balked by Fate 280 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Marriage Bells 306 
 
BROWN STUDIES; 
 
 OR, 
 
 CAMP-FIEES AND MORALS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTO THE WOODS. 
 
 It was in the afternoon of the 15th 
 of September that I met my old college 
 chum, Walter Van Nest, on Broadway. 
 All the world was rushing by us like a 
 spring freshet, but he drew me into a 
 doorway where the rumble was only an 
 echo. 
 
 "You are not well/' he said, senten- 
 tiously, for Walter is a physician with a 
 large practice. 
 
 " Tired," I answered. 
 5 
 
6 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 ''Of what?" 
 
 " Of life ; of the everlasting racket, of 
 the crowd, of the game of grab, but espe- 
 cially of myself." 
 
 " At forty ? " he queried. " Then you 
 have a liver or a stomach, and are con- 
 scious of it." 
 
 " Perhaps I also have brains," I blurted. 
 "At any rate, I have played chess with 
 Wall Street long enough, and am going 
 to sweep the pawns and bishops and 
 knights off of the board and give myself 
 a long rest." 
 
 " All ! " he retorted, for Walter is some- 
 thing of a cynic. 
 
 " When a man gets to my age," I con- 
 tinued, "it is pretty nearly time for him 
 to believe in God." 
 
 "And you do not?" he asked, quizzi- 
 cally. 
 
 "There is no room for one in New 
 York, and I'm going where I can find 
 Him." 
 
INTO THE WOODS. 7 
 
 "Have you made a fortune, and are 
 yon, as Rivarol said, ' a prey to the mal- 
 ady of prosperity ' ? " 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 "Then have yon lost a fortune — 'all 
 my pretty chickens and their dam at 
 one fell swoop ' ? " 
 
 Again I shook my head. 
 
 " I have a theory, Walter," I said, " that 
 at some time in middle life a man ought 
 to ejaculate himself from his environ- 
 ment by sheer force, and spend a few 
 months in some wilderness where he can 
 make his own acquaintance, take an in- 
 ventory of his intellectual and spiritual 
 stock, and find out whether he is good 
 for something or only good for nothing." 
 
 " A very pretty theory ! " 
 
 "And a wholesome one," I insisted. 
 "I have been rubbing against my kind 
 until my flesh is tender and painfully 
 sensitive, and I am going to winter in 
 the woods, with the partridges and the 
 
8 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 evergreens and the elonds and the stars. 
 I have been at the grindstone for twenty 
 years, and my nerves are so irritable that 
 they fret and fnnie when the wind is 
 east." 
 
 Walter thrust his hand into his coat- 
 pocket as though hunting for his pre- 
 scription-book. 
 
 " No," I said, decidedly, ^' I will swallow 
 none of your drugs. What I want is 
 fresli air, freedom from anxiety, a fish- 
 rod, a dog, a gun, and some of my own 
 thoughts for companions, instead of this 
 everlasting chatter about stocks and 
 fashions and investments and five per 
 cents. I don't know myself. I have 
 been talking so long to other people, and 
 about first and second mortgages and 
 corner lots and new enterprises and 
 all the other details of ordinary life, 
 that when night comes I am worn out; 
 and if I ask my brain and my soul how 
 thev feel and what thev have been do- 
 
IXTO THE WOODS. 9 
 
 iug, I drop asleep before I can get an 
 answer." 
 
 " Yon go alone 1 " he asked. 
 
 "Yes, alone." 
 
 " Will yon be in good company or bad, 
 if 3^on have only yonrself to talk to ! " 
 
 " That is precisely what I want to find 
 out. I can't answer yonr question just 
 now, bnt if yon will meet me at the 
 clnb some time in March next I will tell 
 yon frankly." 
 
 " Yon are a bold man with 'a bold ex- 
 periment on hand. If j^on can live with 
 yonrself six months yon will do more 
 than most men. It is a frightful test of 
 endurance." 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders, for there was 
 apparently nothing to saj^ 
 
 "And whither speed you, my boy?" 
 
 " To a camp in the woods, on the edge 
 of a lake. I bought a couple of hundred 
 acres two years ago, and there's a log hut 
 somewhere on the tract. I hope to live 
 
10 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 on venison, trout, memories, and antici- 
 pations." 
 
 " That is good diet if you have plenty 
 of it. When do you start ? " 
 
 '' Next week." 
 
 "Will you dine Avith me to-morrow? 
 Perhaps you may become sane by that 
 time." 
 
 " Thanks, Walter, but you must excuse 
 me. I am up to my ears in the work of 
 preparation — canoes, guides, tackle, am- 
 munition, underwear, and all the rest of it." 
 
 When the doctor left me it was with 
 the impression that a dose of calomel or 
 a few grains of c^uinine would give me 
 a lietter outlook. He had the courtesy, 
 however, to wish me a pleasant winter, 
 but expressed the fear that when spring 
 opened I should be brought home in the 
 shape of a dripping icicle. 
 
 I bought these acres mth the dehber- 
 ate purpose of expatriating myself, so to 
 
INTO THE WOODS. 11 
 
 speak, and getting into some sort of com- 
 niiiuication with nature. Ever since I 
 passed my twentieth birthday I have been 
 shoulder to shoukler with men, and if you 
 will excuse me for saying so, I should like 
 a change. I dived into the whirlpool of 
 business one fine August evening when 
 my father came to me and said : 
 
 "My son, I have bought for you a 
 junior partnership with a Wall Street 
 firm. You will report for duty at ten 
 o'clock to-morrow morning. In twenty 
 years you will either have a fortune or 
 be a beggar — I am interested to know 
 which. If you have any mettle, here is 
 the opportunity to show it. I think you 
 wilJ succeed, but that is your affair, not 
 mine." 
 
 The twenty years have gone. My father 
 was suddenly summoned in 1872, and the 
 poor mother, after mourning over her 
 loss for eight months, went to find the 
 missing one. 
 
12 nnOWX STUDIES. 
 
 I did not make a fortune, nor did I 
 become bankrupt. I have enough to 
 supply my daily needs and am there- 
 fore unwilling to waste my energy in 
 getting more. I am not greedy ; I have 
 simply a good appetite. I don't want 
 all there is, and should not know what 
 to do with it if I had it. My ambition 
 is not to leave behind me a pile of 
 money for my heirs to quarrel about, but 
 to find out what there is of interest in 
 this world before I cross the border and 
 begin to explore the other world. It 
 would be very mortifying if the Lord 
 should meet me on a street in the New 
 Jerusalem and say, "T am sorry you 
 spent so much time among things which 
 you could not bring with you." 
 
 If I understand the Bible it is simply 
 a guide-book to enable you to prepare 
 for housekeeping in heaven. You will 
 find in it a list of the articles you will 
 need in order to secure comfort and 
 
AA'TO THE WOODS. 13 
 
 contentment in the new home ; also an 
 injunction not to go with a hand-satchel 
 and leave your trunks behind, but to go 
 with your trunks and leave a gripsack 
 behind. The difficulty with most men is 
 that they leave too much and take too 
 little. I am thoroughly selfish in this mat- 
 ter, and wish to be reasonably equipped 
 when I emigrate to the invisible conti- 
 nent, and long ago determined to provide 
 myself with the kind of furniture which 
 gray-bearded old Charon will be willing 
 to transport in his clumsy boat. 
 
 I am not much of a theologian, but 1 
 have come to the conclusion that the 
 Lord will not cross-examine me on the 
 propositions of the Athanasian Creed, but 
 will inquire rather minutely — possibly 
 with disagreeable minuteness — about my 
 private life, my business transactions, and 
 the general influence I exerted on the 
 community. 
 
 I felt a good deal like a fur cloak that 
 
14 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 has been stored away in camphor. The 
 odor of the drug is nauseating, and the 
 cloak must be exposed to cleansing breezes 
 before it is fit to wear. In like manner 
 the odor of worldliness, of money-mak- 
 ing, of balls and dinners and parties had 
 penetrated every fiber of my being, and 
 I could only get rid of it by taking to 
 the woods and introducing myself to the 
 thrushes and woodpeckers and evergreens 
 and snow-drifts. If I could once put my 
 arms about the neck of nature and tell 
 her, as frankly as a boy talks to a maiden, 
 how I love her, I thought I should be the 
 better for it all my days. 
 
 My little parcel of wilderness was at 
 the western end of the Adirondacks, so re- 
 mote from civilization that after I left the 
 railroad station I had to travel thirty-six 
 miles by wagon to the rendezvous where 
 I was to meet my two guides with their 
 canoes. We should paddle leisurely up- 
 stream — there are three portages, I was 
 
INTO THE WOODS. 15 
 
 told, wMch would break the monotony 
 of the journey — and by sundown of the 
 second day enter the lake on which my 
 property bordered, with a good substantial 
 hut in full view. 
 
 You have alread}^ guessed that I am 
 a bachelor. I am aware that the term 
 carries a certain reproach with it. The 
 world invariably shrugs its shoulders at 
 an unmarried man, and its shrug is ex- 
 pressive of a modicum of contempt, as 
 though it would say, " Ah, yes ! you think 
 no one's daughter quite good enough for 
 you. You want an archangel to keep 
 your house in order, and as very few of 
 these divinities stray away from the re- 
 gions alcove you prefer to live in cynical 
 singleness." 
 
 I must assure you, however, that if this 
 
 is the rule concerning bachelors, I am 
 
 one of the exceptions which prove it true. 
 
 . In my case it was Her fault, not mine. 
 
16 BROWy STUDIES. 
 
 That was a very tragic episode in my 
 life. Yon. wonld perhaps be interested if 
 I conld speak freely, bnt I have never had 
 a confidant and mnst be excused. That 
 secret is known only to Her and to nie 
 and to One other. Some people find com- 
 fort in talking, bnt I should find pain. 
 
 Suffice it that I am not of the number 
 who can fall out of one love into another 
 with promptness and despatch. Unfor- 
 tunately I am so constitnted that a single 
 exj^erience is all I can endnre. I do not 
 care to flatter myself, bnt 1 am like a tree 
 which has thrown its roots down deep in 
 the soil. You cannot dig it up and trans- 
 plant it, for it will certainly die if you 
 make the attempt. 
 
 When I saw Margaret for the first time 
 I said to myself, ''Yon will fall in love 
 with that woman unless you are very 
 careful." But it was too late even then. 
 We were like two di*ops of quicksilver, 
 which, the moment thev come into actual 
 
I^TO THE WOODS. 17 
 
 contact, become incorporated and are 
 thereafter only one drop. You may say 
 that in her I found my fate, or you may 
 declare that she and I were affinities — I 
 have no theory on the subject. 
 
 I was talking with a scholarly fellow, 
 awhile since, who had a lot of the queerest 
 theories, and he made some very curious 
 statements. 
 
 He was a man of wealth and conse- 
 quent leisure, and spent most of his time 
 in travel. There was hardly a nook or 
 corner of the earth which was strange to 
 him. In his early days, he told me, he 
 was an atheist, but was cured of that 
 disease in Khanowal, in the Punjab ter- 
 ritory. He lived there for five years, 
 and made the acquaintance of a class of 
 uncanny folk known as Adepts. He was 
 an interesting talker, with a thousand 
 adventures at his tongue's tip, and I sat 
 for hours at a time in a corner of the liotel 
 
18 BIWWX STUDIES. 
 
 veranda listening to liim and admiring 
 his versatility. 
 
 Among other things he disconrsed of 
 reincarnation, bnt I grew restless and 
 cried, '^ Nonsense, Waldron ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " he replied, qnietly, " then yon 
 know something about the subject ? " 
 
 " Absolutely nothing," I replied. 
 
 "And, knowing nothing, you think 
 yourself qualified to stigmatize it as non- 
 sense, eh!" 
 
 The absurdity of my position was ap- 
 parent, and I apologized by begging him 
 to go on, but could not repress the feeling 
 that he had gone daft. 
 
 '^ I knew a very singular case," he con- 
 tinued, '^ and you may be interested in it. 
 Two Hindus of the upper class met by 
 accident one afternoon, and the next day 
 they were married." 
 
 " Rather quick work," I suggested. 
 
 " Yes, but there was reason for it." 
 
 ''So?" 
 
 
INTO THE WOODS. 19 
 
 ^' In a previous stage of existence they 
 had been husband and wife. After deatli, 
 of course, they remembered the relations 
 which they held to each other, for death 
 has no power to obliterate or even impair 
 the memory. It is not when we die that 
 we forget, but when we are born. There 
 is a subtle mystery about birth, for dur- 
 ing its processes the entire past is for- 
 gotten and we begin anew. But in this 
 instance birth did not produce its ordi- 
 nary effect. The memory of the former 
 life was blurred, and misty as a dream, 
 but it was nevertheless sufficiently vivid 
 to make them search for each other with- 
 out exactly knowing that they were doing 
 so. When they met recognition took 
 place immediately, and so they brooked 
 no delay, but were married at once." 
 
 The story is certainly incredible, and 
 yet, long after Waldron left me, I sat 
 thinking about it. I wondered if the 
 
20 BLOWN STUDIES. 
 
 reason why Margaret and I fell in love 
 at first sight, and felt, as we often said, 
 that we had known each other for cen- 
 turies, conld be accounted for on Wal- 
 dron's theory. 
 
 But the time came when we quarreled. 
 Something happened — whose fault it was 
 I cannot say, but probably it was mine. 
 There were charges and countercharges. 
 I have quick blood, and say more than 
 I mean when I am heated. Perhaps 
 she meant less than she said. How the 
 trouble assumed such grave proportions 
 that she could dismiss me on the spot I 
 have never been able to understand. Mar- 
 garet was proud and I was obstinate ; so 
 the next day a messenger brought me a 
 little box containing the engagement ring, 
 and then I knew there was no help for me. 
 
 Let me simply add that within a few 
 months she married the man whom she 
 did not love in order to be revenged 
 upon the man whom she did love, and 
 
INTO THE WOODS. 21 
 
 the two went to Florida, where they lived 
 on an orange plantation. 
 
 I assure yon that this experience has 
 not embittered me. I do not know why 
 I should become cynical because I have 
 suffered a great disappointment, or, as 
 Falconer says, because 
 
 "Dire Fate in venom dipped lier keenest dart," 
 
 and left it quivering in my flesh. Love is 
 still love, though my share has been taken 
 away. Women are true and loyal, and 
 if she ceased to care for me I must needs 
 think that I was not worthy of her, for 
 a nobler soul never resided in a beautiful 
 body. 
 
 Somehow I have always thought of 
 myself as a married man, and can no 
 more enter into relations with another 
 woman than if my wife had gone to 
 Europe for a time. I am lonely and 
 homesick, and once in a while frightfully 
 despondent; but they tell us that after 
 
22 nnojrx studies. 
 
 death we shall have an opportunity to 
 rectify the mistakes of the present life, 
 and I like to believe that this opportunity 
 will come to me. 
 
 Margaret is constantly in my thoughts, 
 and I have never been without knowledge 
 of her. The memory of those old days is 
 like the lamps in Catholic churches whose 
 flame the priests never allow to go out. 
 The oil is constant]}^ replenished and the 
 light is forever bright. 
 
 It so happens that I have a second 
 cousin who lived within a few miles of 
 Her. She has been the watchful provi- 
 dence over the house which held my lost 
 Margaret and my rival. 
 
 When the times were hard, and the 
 mortgagee who had loaned money on the 
 plantation was about to foreclose, my 
 good cousin drew on me, but Margaret 
 never knew who befriended her. 
 
 The relief was offered with a finesse as 
 attenuated as a spider's web in the grass. 
 
INTO THE WOODS. 23 
 
 which you know is never visible except 
 in the early morning when it glistens 
 with dewdrops. When my consin spun 
 her web there was never any dew on it 
 to render it visible. 
 
 Bnt I mnst say no more on this sub- 
 ject. I have partly taken you into my 
 confidence that I may offer you a key to 
 some of the incidents which I am about 
 to relate. When a man has had such an 
 experience at thirty, and has not recov- 
 ered from it at forty, he does well to take 
 to the woods. That is what I am going 
 to do with my two guides, my canoes, my 
 dog, my guns, and my love of nature in 
 all her moods. 
 
 " What a blessing it is," I said to my- 
 self, as I stood on the bank of the stream 
 ready for the start—" what a blessing it 
 is to have all out of doors for an environ- 
 ment ! Fresh air straight from the north- 
 west, and sifted through thousands of 
 
24 BEOWN STUDIES. 
 
 acres of pine forest ! And such a quan- 
 tity of it ! Why, I have been here only 
 haK an horn*, and yet what a change in 
 me ! I feel as though I were sliding 
 downhill into my boyhood again. 
 
 " If the guides were not here I should 
 like to throw my head back and scream 
 from sheer excess of enjoyment. But that 
 would never do. I must maintain my 
 dignity before them at any cost. But if 
 I were alone I believe I could chase a 
 squirrel up a tree." 
 
 I took long breaths, until my lungs 
 began to puif out and my nerves tingled 
 as though an electric current were pass- 
 ing through them. Yes, I did right to 
 get away from the city, with its rumble 
 and roar, which seems to ring everlasting 
 variations on the words '' Hard Cash ! " 
 The friction had worn on me, body and 
 brain alike, and a proportion of my recent 
 depression came from restaurant gravies 
 
INTO THE noons. 25 
 
 and trying to keep up a conversation with 
 people I cared nothing about. 
 
 One of the profoundest afflictions of 
 life is to talk from sheer courtes}^, and 
 wonder what you will say when the re- 
 mark you are now making has passed 
 your lips. I have had cold chills creep 
 over me as the conversation lagged, and 
 I had exhausted my entire repertoire of 
 topics, but knew that I must smile and 
 chatter on until somebody came to my 
 relief. 
 
 But to be in the woods loosens the 
 tongue. Your thoughts come in a crowd, 
 like a troop of gay dancers, and your 
 mental exhilaration is simply ecstatic. 
 There is such a friendliness in a forest ! 
 The trees are all so brotherly that when 
 you are about to leave, and try to thank 
 them for their hospitality, they seem to 
 say, " You can pay us for it all by coming 
 again.'' 
 
26 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 And such a restf ulness steals over you ! 
 Nature is never in a hurry. She has all 
 the time tliere is, and her big heart never 
 rises above the normal seventy- two beats 
 per minute. How leisurely she changes 
 autumn into winter and winter into 
 spring ! What a delightful spirit of re- 
 pose is found everywhere, and how quietly 
 she does her work ! 
 
 I was curiously impressed by this fact 
 as I watched my boatmen lazily loading 
 the canoes, and then turned to my dog, 
 who was lying on the grass and yawning. 
 
 I wonder if I can describe that scene ? 
 It was a beautiful pictiu-e, and I shall 
 never forget the impression it made on 
 me. I hardly know why, but for a while 
 what we call civilization seemed abhor- 
 rent to me, and this communion with 
 nature the only healthy life for a man to 
 lead. Even the memory of the city, with 
 its smoke and its unceasing noise; its 
 cobblestones and brick houses; its rush 
 
INTO THE WOODS. 27 
 
 and crush; its palaces and tenement- 
 houses, with no sense of brotherhood be- 
 tween them in spite of all the pulpits and 
 all the clergy ; its dens of infamy trap- 
 ping the pure and innocent and throwing 
 them back on the world reeking with 
 vicious habits ; its social shams ; its mar- 
 riage system, in which hearts are bought 
 by the highest bidder and sweet girlhood 
 sacrificed to a corner house on the avenue 
 and a yacht — yes, the memory of what I 
 left behind me grated on my nerves, and 
 I thought that the life of an Indian, or 
 an ancient Celt, or the barbarian of the 
 stone age, was better than that of the 
 nineteenth century in a great city. 
 
 The savage had his hut and — health; 
 the man of to-day has his equipage, his 
 country and town houses, the greenest 
 envy of his neighbors, and — gout. 
 
 There on my right was Leo. No one 
 shall insult him by saying he is " only a 
 dog." He is my intimate friend and com- 
 
28 BROWN STUDIED. 
 
 panion. He would stand by me in good 
 and evil report, and there is no danger 
 he would not willingly share. A mag- 
 nificent St. Bernard of the bluest blood, 
 without a single taint of vulgarity — how 
 I love him ! When I talk to him seri- 
 ously he barks a reply, as though to say, 
 "I understand you perfectly, but my 
 larynx is out of order." I am very sure 
 that the soul of a philosopher is im- 
 prisoned in that fellow's body, and that 
 by and by, in some other world, he will 
 introduce himself to me, and thank me 
 for all I have done to make his present 
 life comfortable. 
 
 The other day I was unusually moody. 
 Old memories teased and fretted me. Leo 
 walked deliberately round my chair, then 
 sat down on his haunches and gazed into 
 my face so pityingly that I could hardly 
 endure it. A moment later he laid his 
 big head on my knee, glanced up at me, 
 and gave a low whine. Ah me ! there 
 
INTO THE WOODS. 29 
 
 are uot many friends as satisfactory as a 
 brainy St. Bernard dog, or, if there are, I 
 liave not found tliem. 
 
 For all the love he has given me I will 
 say, as Mrs. Browning sings : 
 
 " Therefore to this dog will I 
 Tenderly, not scornfully, 
 
 Render praise and favor : 
 With my hand upon his head 
 Is my benediction said, 
 
 Therefore, and forever." 
 
 Just yonder were John Thomas and 
 Sim Grump, the first six feet three, and 
 the second a good-natured, jolly little 
 sphere, as broad as he was long. John 
 was indulging in a pipe and Sim was 
 whittling a pine stick. They were un- 
 gainly creatures, and my friends might 
 speak of them as uncouth ; but Sim, I 
 heard, could cook a trout or broil a par- 
 tridge, and bake potatoes in the hot ashes 
 — in a word, get up such a dinner that if 
 the gods of Olympus were invited they 
 
30 BBOJVX STUDIES. 
 
 would ask for the privilege of coming 
 again the next week. As for John, he 
 conld track a bear or stalk a deer with 
 snch finesse of skill that bear or deer 
 regarded it a pleasure to die. He was a 
 wonderful woodsman and was never so 
 happy as when in the forest's depths. 
 Tacitiu-n, because he had lived so long in 
 solitude, he could nevertheless talk won- 
 derfully well, when moved to talk at all, 
 on the habits of every animal in the Adi- 
 rondacks. He had no mania for shoot- 
 ing, and would often sit for hours, as still 
 as death, watching a doe learning the 
 lesson of caution from the mother-deer. 
 He was no butcher, but a genuine sports- 
 man. 
 
 The canoes lay in the stream, their 
 noses on the bank for anchorage. In 
 the first and second were our luggage and 
 provisions, while the third was reserved 
 for Leo and myself. Everything was 
 ready for a start. It was late in the 
 
INTO THE WOODS. 31 
 
 afternoon, but we should have a full 
 moon and could paddle along until mid- 
 night. 
 
 Far away in the west the sun had sunk 
 into the haze at the horizon, and looked 
 like a huge orange. ''Fair weather to- 
 morrow/' said John, " or the signs will 
 fail up on me." 
 
 I stood for some minutes looking at 
 the wondrous orb. When he rose in the 
 morning I was part and parcel of the 
 great city. Now, at eventide, he and I 
 were alone together, and it seemed to me 
 that as his lower limb dipped below my 
 line of vision he said " Good-night ! '' with 
 a smile of approval. 
 
 Half-way up the heavens was a mag- 
 nificent cumulus, surrounded by the blue 
 of the sky Hke a picture in a frame. Its 
 outer edges were as white as snow — daz- 
 zlingly white — while the middle ground 
 was the color of ashes of roses. It sailed 
 toward the east, attended by a troop of 
 
32 lUiOJVN STUDIES. 
 
 lesser clouds, like a queen with her ret- 
 inue. 
 
 And while I looked its whole aspect 
 changed. A slight tinge of brilliant red 
 crept over it, and in a few moments it 
 blushed a deep crimson, as though the 
 peering sun had caught it in the arms of 
 a lover. It was an amazing spectacle — 
 such a spectacle as makes one heave a 
 sigh without knowing why a sigh better 
 befits the occasion than a smile. John 
 looked, and took his pipe out of his mouth. 
 Sim looked, and stopped whittling. But 
 neither of them uttered a word, and I 
 liked them all the better for it. 
 
 I dislike to hear any one talk when he 
 is looking at what is beautiful or sublime. 
 It shows that the looker-on has only a 
 superficial appreciation. Nature does her 
 best for the man who has sense enough 
 to be silent. 
 
 Shortly after that the dusk settled 
 down on the landscape. Venus appeared 
 
INTO THE WOODS. 33 
 
 wearing a burnished silv^er shield, and we 
 started, the silence only broken by the 
 measured cadence of the dripping oars 
 and the soft music of rippling water at 
 the bows of the boats. 
 
 Leo looked at me with those wondrous 
 eyes which seemed to say, "I wonder 
 what She is doing now?" then laid his 
 head on his paws and dropped asleep. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 DO FLOWERS HAVE SOULS? 
 
 Here I am at home in the woods at 
 last. We reached the end of onr journey 
 yesterday afternoon at abont four o'clock, 
 and Sim heaved a sigh of relief when the 
 bow of my canoe grated on the little 
 patch of sandy beach in front of the 
 camp. 
 
 There is a clump of trees close to the 
 water's edge, and as the wind is blow- 
 ing they gently wave their branches, 
 Avhich I take to be a graceful greeting to 
 our little party. They are mostly needle 
 pines, and as the pine is always an ^o- 
 lian harp, we are welcomed by music. 
 
 The ail* is warm, but crisp and brac- 
 34 
 
DO FLOWERS HAVE SOULS f 35 
 
 ing. There is not a cloud to be seen, 
 and the skj^ is so blue— so exquisitely 
 blue— that I say to nij^self, -^This must 
 be a suburb of the New Jerusalem, and if 
 a group of ang-els were to come and sup 
 with me I should not be suiprised." Al- 
 together I feel that nature has grasped 
 me by the hand with the hope that I 
 may enjoy the winter. 
 
 I scarcely believe there can be many 
 spectacles as beautiful as that on which I 
 looked when Leo and I leaped from the 
 boat and stood gazing in open-eyed won- 
 der. There was a magic in it all, as 
 though one of the fabled genii had trans- 
 ported us to wonderland. And when, a 
 short half -hour later, the wind suddenly 
 died out, and the lake went to sleep with 
 not a ripple on its surface, I felt that per- 
 haps the echo of that Voice which once 
 said, " Peace, be still ! " had just reached 
 this secluded spot, and the lake had heard 
 it and obeyed. 
 
36 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 A sliort distance back of me, as I 
 face tlje west, stands tlie camp, on rising 
 gronnd, and close to the edge of the 
 woods. It is made of rongh-hewn logs, 
 but the man who planned it and chose its 
 location was an artist. As a woodland 
 home for a fellow not quite satisfied Avith 
 his fate, whose heart-beats are in the 
 minor key, it is simply a dream. The 
 moment 1 saw it I said : " Tliis suits my 
 mood. I like the corrugated bark on the 
 logs of that hut, and I like tlie old stumj^s 
 in the clearing in front, and the wild 
 asters Avhich peep ux) on every hand, and 
 the tinted leaves of the bushes vvdiich an 
 early frost has doomed." 
 
 Yes, there are about a thousand square 
 yards of clearing between the house and 
 the lake, and these old stumps seem like 
 a company of brown dwarfs who have 
 come to be my companions until the 
 snow covers them up. On the right and 
 left, as we sit on the little veranda, stretcb 
 
DO FLOWERS HAVE SOULS? 37 
 
 tlie woods, somber, grave, dignified, for 
 tliey liav^e full twenty years' growtli to 
 tlieir credit. They remind me of an army 
 of stalwart fellows in green nniform. 
 That Imge oak in the middle of the clear- 
 ing, which the woodsman's ax has spared, 
 and wliicli rises straight of statnre a good 
 seventy-five feet, is their major-general. 
 
 As I sit here, Leo at my side, I can 
 hear the cheery voice of a streamlet hard 
 by, singing as it tumbles over the stones. 
 Some one has dug a hole on its edge and 
 driven a barrel down, the water in which 
 — clear as crystal — constitutes onr supply 
 for the kitchen. 
 
 In front of me the lake stretches for 
 three good miles, its shores overhung by 
 undergrowth, with once in a while a tall 
 pine bending over as though trying to 
 catch a glimpse of itself in the Claude 
 Lorrain glass at its foot; for trees are 
 just as vain of their beauty as men and 
 women. 
 
38 BliOUN STUDIES. 
 
 Over yonder a point of land jnts far 
 out into the lake. Had it been of soft 
 allnvial soil, it wonld have been washed 
 away by prehistoric storms; but it is a 
 rocky mass, blackened by time, and will 
 therefore hold its own for centuries yet. 
 
 Farther off, in the background, are two 
 cone-like elevations, green to their sum- 
 mits, but with a roadway of white 
 adown their sides, where an avalanche in 
 some fierce winter has plowed a path and 
 taken everything with it except the lime- 
 stone and the granite, wliicli refused to 
 join the mad runaway. 
 
 My camp has three rooms : two in the 
 main building, and one in the ell which 
 serves as the lodging-place of my guides. 
 My own room faces the south, and on the 
 western end is a huge fireplace where 
 four-foot logs will burn bright by and 
 hj. There is a rude table in the middle, 
 some book-shelves on the side, a couple 
 of chairs wlucli have seen better days. 
 
DO FLOWERS HAVE SOULS? 39 
 
 and a dilapidated bedstead whicli I shall 
 br^ak up for kindling- wood, as I propose 
 to sleej) on nothing less fragrant than 
 hendock-bonghs. 
 
 The second room is of eqnal size, and 
 is to be the Idtchen and eating-room. 
 
 Jnst before snndown Sim came to me 
 with inquiries about supper. 
 
 " What liave you to offer ? " I asked. 
 
 "Bacon and baked potatoes, or a slice 
 of ham, or some canned meats. We may 
 have venison after a little, and ought to 
 get partridges, or possibly a wood-duck, 
 and along the trail that leads out to the 
 settlement I have seen rabbits, but to- 
 night" — and he hesitated. 
 
 " WeU, Sim," I ventured, " I have the 
 appetite of Cyclops, but none of these 
 things suit me. Can't you think of any- 
 thing else ? " 
 
 "Hot rolls, buckwheat cakes" — he 
 began. 
 
40 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 "No, no, not to-niglit. Give me — let 
 me see" — and I looked toward the lake 
 wondering wliat I wanted most. " All ! 
 I have it. You shall broil me a fine 
 tront, Sim." 
 
 He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 
 " Bring me the trout and I'll cook him," 
 he said, sententiously. 
 
 No sooner said than done ; or, rather, 
 no sooner said than begun. 
 
 "John, where is my rod?" 
 
 " In the southeast corner of the kitchen, 
 sii\" 
 
 "And my flies?" 
 
 " Here in my pocket, sir." 
 
 In ten minutes I was in one of the 
 canoes, paddling with all my might. A 
 sense of exhilaration crept over me, and 
 I felt like an emigrant from Olympus. 
 A man with a trout-rod in his hand is 
 always young. The man w^ho must catch 
 his supper before he can eat it feels that 
 life is w^orth living, for he has a great 
 purpose in view. 
 
A THKEE POUXDER.' i'ufje 41 
 
DO FLOWERS HAVE SOULS f 41 
 
 At tlie very first (;ast I liad a rise, and 
 was elated. After that, for a while at 
 least, it seemed as thongii all the fish 
 had heard of my fame as a sportsman, 
 and gone into hiding. I threw the fly 
 so deftly — excnse my egotism — that it 
 lighted on the water like a moth; bnt 
 there was no response. 
 
 Then I became disgnsted, and pnlled 
 away to another spot where the shadow 
 of the woods made the lake look gloomy, 
 and threw a wldte fly. How my heart 
 jumped ! There was a splash, then a 
 qnick movement of my right arm as I 
 fastened the hook in the jaws of my 
 game, tlien a hissing sonnd as the silk 
 ran over the reel, and I was happy and 
 excited. What a struggle! "A three- 
 pounder ! '' I said to myself, and my 
 nerves began to tingle. 
 
 I am rather proud of my skill as a 
 fisherman, but it Avas fully twenty min- 
 utes before that trout surrendered and 
 allowed me to draw him within reach of 
 
42 BliOIVX STUDIES. 
 
 my net. He was lauded at last, and I 
 rowed home in great glee. 
 
 S 11 ell a supper ! '• So, so, Van Nest," 
 I said, when I had finished, "you wanted 
 me to take quinine, or possibly a dose of 
 calomel, eh? Broiled trout and bacon, 
 with a good cup of black coffee, are bet- 
 ter than all the prescriptions you ever 
 wrote." 
 
 That night Leo and I went to bed at 
 nine o'clock. John had spread a lot of 
 hemlock-boughs in the corner, making a 
 mattress a foot thick, and over this was 
 laid a large blanket. Leo took his place 
 at my feet, as he always does, and before 
 I could say good-night to the dear fellow 
 I was sound, sound, sound asleep. 
 
 In the city I used to toss about in the 
 most restless fashion, but in the woods I 
 simply shut my eyes and was gone. 
 
 "No, John," I said, when the guide 
 asked me to take a tramp with my rifle 
 
1)0 FLOWERS HATE SOULS? 43 
 
 the next morning — "no, it is a duty to 
 devote my first day here to dehcious in- 
 dolence." 
 
 '^ Rnther qneer to call doin' nothin' a 
 duty/' he responded. '' Guess if the Lord 
 had put that down in the Decalogue it 
 would 'a' been considerable gratifyin' to 
 hum an natur in gene ral. However, there's 
 lots of folks who act as though the Lord 
 had forbid 'em to work, and would be 
 down on 'em ef they did a stroke." 
 
 "And what are you going to do?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, just slouch about a bit and see if 
 anythin' comes in my way." 
 
 So John disappeared with his gun, and 
 I lay down on a patch of soft grass, with 
 woods and lake and sky in full view, to 
 think, and, if possible, make my own ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 Li this way I spent two delightful 
 hours. Not a sound was heard except 
 the melancholy voice of the pines and the 
 
44 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 occasional slirill note of the kingfisher or 
 the tap, tap of some stray woodpecker 
 prospecting for his dinner. 
 
 As I watched the kingfisher and list- 
 ened to the woodpecker's tap, the folk- 
 lore abont birds came to mind — those 
 pretty stories which the peasants of 
 Europe like to tell to their children, and 
 which are half believed. 
 
 The poor sparrow, for example, has 
 few friends. Nobody speaks a kind word 
 for him, or wants him flying about the 
 house. The swallow, on the other hand, 
 can come when he pleases, for he brings 
 good luck. 
 
 If you happen to visit Sweden some 
 day, you may hear a very interesting 
 legend of the sparrow, and learn why he 
 is never welcome. Your host will tell 
 you, if you win his confidence, that the 
 sparrow did not behave very well during 
 the tragedy of the Crucifixion, and that, 
 
DO FLO WEBS HAVE SOULS? 45 
 
 in a word, he represented tlie evil one on 
 tliat occasion. 
 
 Tliat is a serions cliarge, but yonr liost 
 will assnre you that the statement is well 
 founded, and you will do well not to cul- 
 tivate an intimate acquaintance with that 
 bird, for ill fortune is sure to follov/. 
 
 When all was ready for the execution 
 on Calvary the swallows were so affected 
 that they swept tlirough the air in great 
 excitement, and, hovering near the person 
 of Christ, did what they could to comfort 
 and console him. When the nails had 
 been laid on the ground these little swal- 
 lows carried them away, and so tried to 
 save their Friend. But the mcked spar- 
 rows were also present, and when they 
 saw where the nails had been hidden they 
 lirought them back. 
 
 Your Swedish host will also call your 
 attention to the wonderful charity which 
 Christ had for all creatures. He nius^: 
 
46 BEOny STUDIES. 
 
 have known — for nothing could be hid- 
 den from Him — that the sparrow has a 
 depraved nature and seeks every oppor- 
 tunity to lead us into mischief, and yet 
 when speaking of the providence of God 
 He chose this bird for illustration, saying, 
 " Are not two sparrows sold for a far- 
 thing? and one of them shall not fall on 
 the ground without your Father." 
 
 You will furthermore be told, with 
 many a shake of the head, that when the 
 Saviour was on the cross, and the officials 
 were anxious to learn whether death had 
 come or not, these malevolent sparrows 
 cried out, " Fif ! Fif ! " or, '^ He is living ! 
 He is living ! " with the hope that His 
 agony might be prolonged by fresh cruel- 
 ties: but the little swallows set up a 
 counter-cry of " Umer ! Timer ! " or, " He 
 is dead ! He is dead ! " thinkings thereby 
 to protect Him from tlie thrust of the 
 spear. 
 
 For these reasons it is considered a 
 
 ^ 
 
no FLOWERS HAVE SOULS? 47 
 
 good sign when tlio swallows build their 
 nests nnder the eaves of your house, and 
 an unhappy omen when the sparrows are 
 attracted either to your house or barn. 
 
 Is it not plain, therefore, that, whether 
 rightly or wrongly, the people of earlier 
 days — the days before science robbed life 
 of its poetry and romance, and reduced it 
 to a series of dry and commonplace facts 
 — thought of nature, trees, grass, flowers, 
 and clouds as an assemblage of beings, 
 not as mere things! Everything had a 
 voice with which it could converse about 
 its wants and pleasures, and the swallow 
 and the sj)arrow and the flowers and the 
 pines could communicate with one another 
 in a language which, alas ! no man could 
 understand. 
 
 Do you know, I am more than half in- 
 clined to believe, as the ancient Greeks 
 did, that there are invisible beings every- 
 where, and that everything in nature has 
 a soul. I never broke a rose from its 
 
48 BUOWN STUDIES. 
 
 stem or plucked a daisy in the field with- 
 out wondering whether it felt the wound, 
 and when I hear the woodsman's ax fall 
 against the trunk of some stately tree it 
 seems to me that I can hear a groan in 
 the air, as though the sj^irit of the tree 
 were suffering. 
 
 "Why not? Is there not some strange 
 intelligence in the seed, which is no sooner 
 planted than it begins to develop, send- 
 ing a shoot through the soil in search, of 
 sunshine? And is not this intelligence 
 made even more manifest when from the 
 sod the proper constituents are selected 
 for its growth, and year after year it 
 spreads out its branches until it becomes 
 a maple or an oak or a birch, in all the 
 beauty of perfection ? 
 
 And when the stem of a flower is puls- 
 ing with joyous life, and manufactures in 
 the secret laboratory under our feet that 
 delicious perfume with which it fills the 
 air, is it all unconscious of what it is 
 doing, and has it no purpose in view ? 
 
DO FLO WEBS HAVE SOULS? 49 
 
 And when I pluck the flower does it 
 not feel the fracture of its life as tralj 
 as the ant does which I tread to death 
 nnder my foot? If I can suffer, if the 
 dog can suffer, if the worm can suffer, 
 why not the rose and the geranium? 
 How do I know that the blossom is in- 
 different to its fate, and why should I 
 think it is so? May I not believe with 
 reason that there is a flower soul as well 
 as a man soul ? 
 
 At any rate, the feeling that this is 
 possible has given me a very tender love 
 of nature. When I gazed on the bed of 
 pimpernels which grew close by my side, 
 they perhaps knew what I was doing and 
 appreciated my admiration. Was it a 
 false sentiment which held my hand back 
 as I was about to pluck one to exam- 
 ine it, and forced me to say, "No, let it 
 enjoy its little life as I enjoy mine. Why 
 should I destroy it for a moment's plea- 
 sure or to satisfy my curiosity?" So I 
 looked and looked and held my magnify 
 
50 BBOirX STUDIES. 
 
 ing-glass over its petals, and could not 
 lielp thinking that it heard me when I 
 said aloud, '' What a dainty little beauty 
 you are ! " 
 
 I have great sympathy with the views 
 of the Athenian merchant in the days 
 when Socrates was suffering from his 
 wife's ill temper and was glad to get 
 away from the dispute at home to in- 
 dulge in an argument at the street corner 
 with some sophist. He had liis country 
 house on the level plain at the foot of 
 Mount Hymettus, which assumed a violet 
 hue in the twilight. Everything about 
 him was associated with some divinity, 
 whose good-will was sought by oblations 
 of milk and honey. The woods hard by 
 were filled with dryads who roamed at 
 their pleasure, while that stately oak jon- 
 der contained the soul of a hamadrj^ad 
 who would live and die with it. 
 
 If he looked from his jiortico over to 
 Mount Pentelicus he was reminded of 
 
DO FLOWERS HAVE SOULS? 51 
 
 the bean tif 111 nymphs. There were moun- 
 tain-nymphs, who sang in the depths of 
 the forests ; dale-nymphs, who lived in 
 the valle}^; mead-nymphs, who found a 
 home on the meadow-land; and water- 
 nymphs, who loved the streams and 
 springs. When Diana pursued the deer 
 they attended her in gay huntress' attire, 
 and on grand occasions they waited on 
 Juno and Venus. 
 
 If he were a bachelor, and comely, he 
 could give rein to his fancy and believe 
 that some day, while wandering by the 
 streamlet's bank, he might meet one of 
 these exquisite creatures and bring her 
 home as his wife. *' Why not 1 " he might 
 ask himself. Did not Echo, who was 
 punished by Juno for an unpardonable 
 bit of deception, and doomed to so far 
 lose her voice that she could only repeat 
 what she heard — did she not become en- 
 amoured of a fine-looking boy. Narcissus ? 
 He slighted her love, but our Athenian 
 
52 BEOWX STUDIES. 
 
 bachelor would be more gallant. And 
 was not Enrydice, also a nympli, the 
 hap]3y wife of a loving husband until 
 death snatched her from his embrace ? 
 
 Who can tell what effect such a belief 
 would have on this Athenian ? He could 
 never feel alone, for there was comrade- 
 ship in rocks and rills. How strange to 
 him were the associations connected with 
 a pine-tree, many of which were within 
 a stone's throw; and how pathetic the 
 story of which it reminded him ! Poor 
 Cj^bele was endowed with beauty and wis- 
 dom, and when her glance fell on Attis 
 she loved him, and he, dear boy, returned 
 the love in full measure. But the father 
 put the rash lover to death, whereupon 
 she passed her days in solitude under a 
 pine into which she thought the youth 
 had been transformed. With each recur- 
 ring spring she gathered violets because 
 they came from the blood of the slaugh- 
 tered loved one. 
 
DO FLO WEBS HAVE SOULS f 53 
 
 All this is very fanciful, but very de- 
 iiglitful. It does not appeal to the reason 
 of our times, hut we can hardly escape 
 its charm. 
 
 Perhaps this age is better than any 
 that the earlier world ever knew, but I 
 should like to superadd to our wonder- 
 fully practical life some of the fervor of 
 imagination which this Athenian bachelor 
 enjoyed. 
 
 And as I sat on that grass-plot, gazing 
 at the smooth waters of the lake in front, 
 at the woods which covered every hill 
 with verdure, at the sky overhead, where 
 clouds were chasing one another like boys 
 let out from school, I felt that something 
 of this ancient belief would give me com- 
 fort and a more tender affection for the 
 physical world. 
 
 Just as the sun reached mid-heaven 
 Sim broke in on my reverie with the 
 raucous clane^or of a dinner-bell. The 
 
54 BliOirX STLDIJ^S. 
 
 bracing air had given me an appetite^ 
 and all things — poetry, science, religion 
 • — must give way to hunger. Leo was 
 evidently of the same mind, for at the 
 first sonnd of the hell he was on his feet 
 and looking into my face as though he 
 would say, " Good su*, your brown study 
 has doubtless been edifying and instruc- 
 tive, but a call to dinner should never be 
 ignored." 
 
 '' Sim," I said, as I lighted my cigar at 
 the end of the repast, "do you know 
 these woods well ? " 
 
 " Been in 'em ever since I got out of 
 my cradle," was the short reply. 
 
 "Have you" — I found some difficulty 
 in framing my question — "have you ever 
 seen anything in them that startled you 
 or set you to thinking f" 
 
 " Bears ? " he asked, as he stood at the 
 Avindow and looked out into the sunshine. 
 
 " No," I said, slowly, " not wild animals, 
 but—" 
 
no FLOWERS HAVE SOULS f 55 
 
 Sim turned round and looked first at 
 Leo, wlio seemed very serious, aiid then 
 at me. 
 
 '^Ghosts?'' lie asked, lialf under liis 
 breath. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " They're there," he answered. 
 
 '' How do you know ? " 
 
 " I've seen 'em." 
 
 ' • Seen them, Sim f You ? " 
 
 " Well, yes," he replied, rather doggedly. 
 
 '^ Where, pray?" 
 
 "Three miles from here, over in the 
 chasm." 
 
 "Are you sure, Sim?" 
 
 "Dead sure. Couldn't be surer of 
 nothin' on top of the earth, sir." 
 
 "Thatis very odd, Sim." 
 
 "So I thought at the time, sir, and so 
 I've thought ever since. But I'm tellin' 
 the gospel truth for certain." 
 
 I did not ask for the story at the time, 
 knowing that later on he would tell it ; 
 
56 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 but I said to myself, " After all, himian 
 nature is tlie same everywhere. The 
 bachelor of Athens saw nymphs and dry- 
 ads, or thought he did, and Sim has seen 
 ghosts, or thinks he has. The supernat- 
 ural still keeps its hold on us, and life 
 would not be worth much without it.'^ 
 
 I lay down on the lounge, wondered 
 what She was doing on that orange plan- 
 tation in Florida, and then began to dream 
 dreams. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 LOGS AND LOVE. 
 
 What is more exquisite or more stimu- 
 lating than an ideal day in October, when 
 the year has nearly done its work and we 
 catch the weary "autumn nodding o'er 
 the plain " ? 
 
 As I sat on my little veranda yester- 
 day afternoon, looking on the gorgeous 
 scenery at the end of the lake and on 
 either side of it, I think my heart gi-ew 
 very mellow and my love of nature deep- 
 ened. The sun was running low in the 
 heavens, and the waters seemed like mol- 
 ten gold. Tlie maples on the hillsides 
 were all ablaze with color, and the white 
 birches, with their brow^n and yellow f oli- 
 57 
 
58 BliOWX STL DIES. 
 
 age against the dark-green background of 
 evergreens, were marvelously beautiful. 
 On the edge of the woods near by were 
 groups of sumac-bushes, their leaves 
 ranging from a dazzling carmine to a 
 kind of burnt sienna. The mass of color 
 was overwhelming, while above it floated 
 gray clouds through the blue ether. I 
 was so impressed by the spectacle that, 
 do what I would, the tears would come ; 
 and when I said to myself, "They tell 
 us that this is only the rude portico of a 
 House so much more beautiful that it 
 could not have been made with hands," I 
 felt a certain ecstatic longing after the 
 other life. 
 
 Autumn is not to me a season of de- 
 pression. I would not call these "the 
 melancholy days, the saddest of the 
 year," as Bryant did. On the contrary, 
 they incite to action ; they stir the imagi- 
 nation; they fnrnish you with unspeak- 
 able beautv in which to revel. 
 
 i 
 
LOGS AXI) LOVE. 59 
 
 When the strong man. on the evening 
 of some day in which he has done grand 
 and noble work, slips off his clothes and 
 lies down to refreshing sleep, I cannot 
 look on his rngged face Avith any painful 
 emotions. The sleej) brings renewal of 
 vigor. He will wake in the morning with 
 a giant's strength and go on with his task. 
 Let him rest, I say, and while he rests 
 I nurse my pride in his achievements. 
 
 Nature is that strong man to me. The 
 year is his day. When the frosts come 
 he feels the need of slumber; and when 
 he lies down for a while to lose himself 
 in happy dreams, the good God, whose 
 servant he is, drops on his prostrate form 
 a coverlid of snow and gives him the hills 
 for a pillow. The winds sing his lullabj-, 
 as a mother sings to her child until its 
 little lids droop. 
 
 These variegated forests are only the 
 shavings of many-colored woods piled 
 hard by his work-bench, and in the morn- 
 
60 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 ing, Avhen ttie spring comes, he will sweep 
 them all away aud go on with the wonder- 
 ful work in which he is engaged. 
 
 No, there is only gladness in the au- 
 tumn. Nothing dies — it only gathers 
 strength with which to create more beau- 
 tiful effects. 
 
 The Khonds believed that when their 
 priests remained in an unconscious con- 
 dition for several days, as was frequently 
 the case, it was because their souls had 
 departed from their bodies and gone on a 
 journey to the divine presence to have 
 certain vexed questions answered which 
 they themselves could not solve. 
 
 So I like to think that nature, on 
 stated occasions, or with every recurring 
 autumn, pays a visit to the heavenly re- 
 gions to receive advice and instruction, 
 and comes back in the spring mth such 
 a radiant smile that flowers blossom in 
 his path and the trees send forth new 
 leaves. This is a mere fancy, you say ; 
 
 i 
 
LOGS AND LOVE. 61 
 
 but what gives us more i)leasiire than a 
 roving imagination? Let it be a fancy, 
 if yon will have it so; bat let me assure 
 you that it gives me good cheer, and that 
 is more than much of your cold science 
 can boast. 
 
 When the twilight crept over the land- 
 scape yesterday, and Venus lighted her 
 fires in the west, it was too chilly to sit 
 out of doors, for a nipping and an eager 
 air came across the lake. As I opened 
 the door of my living-room, my eyes fell 
 on that magnificent fireplace. 
 
 ^'John!"Icried. 
 
 "He is behind the camp cleaning his 
 gun," answered Sim. 
 
 " Tell him I want him, please.'' 
 
 ''John," I said, when he appeared, "it 
 is chilly." 
 
 " Yes ; the wind cuts like a piece of broken 
 glass ; mostly does at this time of year." 
 
 " Do you suppose there is wood enough 
 out there to last us all winter "? " 
 
62 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 "About fifty cord, sir. Guess youli 
 have to keep a fire goin' all day and all 
 niglit to get througli with it." 
 
 " Is there a good draft to this chimney, 
 John!" 
 
 "Draft? Why, when there's any air 
 stirrin' it'll draw the shoes right off your 
 feet. That chimney was bnilt for busi- 
 ness, sir. If you like I'll fetch an armful 
 of wood and show you what it can do." 
 
 In less than five minutes he returned 
 with a splendid old backlog of hickory 
 about fifteen inches in diameter, and Sim 
 followed with his arms full of dr3^ pitch- 
 pine. 
 
 John believed in kneeling when he 
 made a fire. First he put the backlog in 
 place, then he piled the pine loosely in 
 front of it, to give the flames a good 
 chance to get at every stick. He e^^ed his 
 structvire as critically as an architect looks 
 at the plan of a building, and chuckled 
 his approval. His " Hm ! WaU ! " indi- 
 
LOGS AXD LOVE. 63 
 
 cated a degree of seK-praise in which he 
 seldom indulged, for he was one of those 
 fellows who say they cannot do a thing and 
 then do it in the most skilful fashion. 
 
 "Where's yonr kindling?" I asked. 
 "The evening papers haven't come yet, 
 so we shall have to find a substitute." 
 
 "Don't want no newspaper for this 
 Idnd of business. Here, Sim, hand me 
 that piece of soap-box." 
 
 With his jack-knife, which was a for- 
 midable-looking y/eapon, he \vhittled 
 away until he had a double handful of 
 fine stuff, which he carefidly disposed of 
 under the logs, and then lighted a match. 
 
 Ah, what a fire that was ! At first, to 
 be sure, I thought I was doomed to dis- 
 appointment, and suggested m}^ doubts 
 to John ; but he received my opinion with 
 infinite contempt, saying : 
 
 " There isn't many things I can do, sir, 
 but one thing I can do" — with tremen- 
 dous emphasis on the "can" — "and that 
 
64 BIWWX STUDIES. 
 
 is to build a fire that wou't go out. In 
 less than a jiff}', sir, you'll have a perfect 
 conflagration." 
 
 With that the two left me. 
 
 I drew my chair up and watched the 
 flames, which seemed to enjoy the work 
 they were doing. In less time than it 
 has taken me to describe what occurred, 
 I was forced to move back, and there was 
 such a crackling and roaring that I was 
 almost startled. 
 
 The room was as light as day, and the 
 sparks flew out in gleeful showers. They 
 actually tumbled over one another, a joUy 
 crowd, as they sped up the chimney. I 
 could hear nothing else, save the mufi&ed 
 voices of the guides in the kitchen and 
 the regular breathing of Leo, who lay 
 with his head on his paws, fast asleep. 
 A sense of perfect satisfaction crept over 
 me as I gazed at the flames, and I felt 
 that even in Nirvana there is no more 
 
LOGS AND LOVE. 65 
 
 reposeful happiness than had fallen to 
 my lot. And so I fell to musing. 
 
 "Well/' I thought, "it takes but little 
 to make a man happy, after all, if he only 
 thinks so. 
 
 " Happiness depends very little on our 
 surroundings, and very much on ourselves. 
 
 "I have a good fii-e, a rain-proof hut^ 
 a few books, my gun, my rod, my dog — 
 what more do I want ? 
 
 "If—" 
 
 That word made me stagger. It brought 
 back strange memories, and although the 
 flames had reddened my cheeks I think 
 they grew pale. 
 
 "If—" 
 
 I recalled that evening under the star- 
 light when She and I were together. We 
 were by the sea-shore, listening to the 
 waves as they sang along the beach. I 
 hardly know how it came about, but I 
 
66 BEOWX STUDIES. 
 
 told Her all. Slie listened without a word, 
 thoiigii I felt her arm tremble as it lay 
 on mine. That gave me courage, and the 
 story of my love fell from my lips with 
 a kind of delicious anguish. For months 
 I had gazed at Her from afar, but dared 
 not hope to possess the Kohinoor. 
 
 I fell asleep at night with Her voice in 
 my ears, and when I waked in the morn- 
 ing my first thought was of Her. I was 
 the willing and proud slave of a new 
 emotion. I lived in the most exquisite 
 misery, and would not have parted with 
 it for an African diamond-mine. 
 
 There is no such blissful agony as that 
 which love bestows. My soul had been 
 tortiu-ed b}^ doubts and fears; it soared 
 to ecstasy and fell to despair; it spent 
 this hour in heaven and that hour in 
 hell; it was racked and torn by imagi- 
 nar}^ slights. But on that starlit night, 
 when only the waves could hear what 
 was said, and when with a wild iinpulse 
 
LOGS AND LOVE. 67 
 
 I took Her to my heart with a burning' 
 kiss, I knew that my previous sorrows 
 only increased my present happiness, and 
 was a thousand times grateful for every 
 wretched moment I had passed. 
 
 And so, as I sat by my wood-fire, I 
 could not cheek the thought that if She 
 were only at my side — 
 
 But alas ! 
 
 By this time — for two hours had hur- 
 ried by — the flames were low. There were 
 onh' a few charred and blackened bits of 
 wood left, and these burned sluggishly and 
 fitfully, as though they had finished their 
 task and were tired. 
 
 John knocked at the door and entered. 
 
 ^'Your fire is nearly out," I said, in 
 half-remorseful tones, as though it was 
 by some fault of his. 
 
 " 'Twas dry pine," he responded. 
 
 "Well," I queried, '^what of it?" 
 
 "Notliin', sir, except that it's always so 
 
68 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 with pine. It catches quick, it blazes up 
 quick, it's awful hot while it lasts, but it 
 goes out quick and leaves you in the 
 lurch. Shall I bring in another armful ? " 
 
 "No, John, I'm going to bed. Good- 
 night." 
 
 But I sat an hour longer gazing at the 
 flickering embers. "' Quick to come, hot 
 while it lasts, and quick to go" — I re- 
 peated the words again and again, for 
 they seemed to have a subtle meaning 
 that I could not at first fathom. 
 
 They rang in m}^ ears like a village 
 church -bell tolling for a funeral. 
 
 "It is the pine-wood love," I said to 
 myseK, "that makes half the misery in 
 this world." 
 
 " It catches quick," said John ; and my 
 memor}^ grew very busy with the past of 
 the men and women whom I have known. 
 
 There were Jack and Teeny. He had a 
 high tenor voice, but nothing else. It was 
 his sole possession, unless I except certain 
 
LOGS AND LOVE. 69 
 
 bad habits which young men easily ac- 
 quire. Teeny had a small foot and a 
 large imagination. She thought she was 
 in love with the whole of Jack, but the 
 dire reality was, she loved his vocal 
 chords and took her chances with the 
 rest. 
 
 I do not believe she ever thought of 
 marriage in a serious way, and if Jack 
 had been without a voice she would 
 scarcely have endured his presence for 
 an evening. But she was fond of music, 
 and fancied that she would live in a pal- 
 ace, with Jack to sing to her all day. 
 
 Teeny was a lovable sort of creature, 
 but she • had very little common sense. 
 It was impossible for her to reason about 
 anything, for her impulses and her ca- 
 prices were all there was of her. 
 
 And John said also, "It blazes up 
 quick." Yes, it was that way with Teeny. 
 "When Jack sang, one night — it was the 
 first time she had heard him — I noticed 
 
70 BEOWN STUDIES. 
 
 that lier eyes were full of tears. Those 
 rich tones had led her captive, and when 
 Jack asked permission to escort her home 
 she was in an ecstasy of delight. It was 
 only three weeks later that I heard they 
 were engaged. 
 
 Of course there is such a thing as love 
 at first sight. I am the last man in the 
 world to deny it. One feels a thrill at 
 the touch of a certain hand which no 
 other hand in the world can cause. I 
 cannot fathom the mystery, and do not 
 care to try 5 but I am sure that two souls 
 may be unconsciously hunting for each 
 other through the wilderness of society 
 for years, and then when they come to 
 a hand-clasi), and look into each other's 
 eyes, they are both sure that the end of 
 their Cjuest has been reached. 
 
 But there is a good deal of what passes 
 for love at fii'st sight that is sheer folly, 
 and it is a very dangerous thing to go 
 on the theory that when the right one 
 
LOGS AND LOVE. 71 
 
 appears yon will know it at once. A 
 great many fatal mistakes have been 
 made in tliis direction, and a marriage of 
 impulse is likely to be folloTved by a life 
 of sorrow. 
 
 Teeny was sentimental and full of 
 entliusiasm. What she adored yesterday 
 she adored with all her sonl, and conld 
 see nothing else. But this morning she 
 w^aked np in a different mood, and yester- 
 day's gods were displaced to make way 
 for new ones. 
 
 So her days and v/eeks passed, amid 
 innumerable loves at first sight; but she 
 would have been seriously offended if 
 you had told her so. 
 
 When Jack appeared she was a mere 
 chip in a mill-race. If she had waited 
 three months instead of three weeks — 
 that is, waited, until the glamour had 
 worn off and she had caught a glimpse 
 of the rollicking, irresponsible fellow, with 
 a conceit that w^as unendurable, and a 
 
72 BEOWX STUDIES. 
 
 degree of selfishness that was at times 
 cruel — she would have married Blue- 
 beard rather than him. 
 
 But as she had a fortune in her own 
 right, while Jack had almost nothing, he 
 kept himself in courteous trim, was as 
 devoted as a slave, praised her beauty, 
 flattered her vanity, and kept her in a 
 whirl and delirium of bliss — until they 
 were married. She was all aflame with 
 what she thought was lo\'e, never once 
 looked at the character of the man, but 
 heard only that high tenor voice which 
 carried her into the seventh heaven. 
 
 John had added, "It goes out quick." 
 Two years later I saw Teeny, and hardly 
 recognized her. There were lines on her 
 face which it pained me to see, and I 
 knew that they were wrought by a sad 
 experience. Two years are a long time 
 when one suffers ; when a wife wakes up 
 to the fact that she and the wrong man 
 are traveling life's road together; that 
 
LOGS AND LOVE. 73 
 
 she has made a mistake from which re- 
 covery is impossible ; that the romance of 
 life is gone, and nothing is left in its 
 stead. 
 
 When my brown study had ended I 
 went to the window to look ont into the 
 clear night and get my thoughts back to 
 the world of beauty that lay all around 
 me. The window^ however, gave me only 
 a glimpse, and I wanted more. So I 
 opened the door and stepped into the 
 open air quietly, because I did not care 
 to waken Leo 5 but the dear fellow heard 
 my footsteps and was instantly at my 
 side. 
 
 It was a cloudless night, and the blue 
 of the sky was simply indescribable. It 
 w^as like a sapphire in color, made bril- 
 liant by myriads on myriads of stars. 
 Awestruck, reverent, even prayerful, I 
 looked and then I sighed. I had no lan- 
 guage to express my feelings, but seemed 
 
74 BBOWy STUDIES. 
 
 to be filled, permeated, by the vision of 
 gioiy, which made every nerve tingle 
 with delight. 
 
 A few long breaths of the fresh night 
 air that swept over the lake, and my day 
 was over. I returned to my room^ and 
 with a hearty " Good-by, old w^orld/' fell 
 asleep. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FAMILIES IN BOXES. 
 
 I HAVE lived liere a little over a month 
 now, and feel as though I had been rein- 
 ca.rnated. I am not the same man that I 
 was in New York. I lived so long among 
 all sorts of creatures there that I found 
 myself growing cynical ; but since I have 
 slept in the woods, where everything is 
 honest, loyal to its destiny, and true to 
 the high purpose for which it was created, 
 I notice that the simplicity and trustful- 
 ness and buoyancy of my boyhood are 
 coming back. I wake up in the morning 
 very light-hearted, leajj out of bed with 
 the elasticity of a watch-spring, take a 
 sponge-bath with water clear as crystal 
 
76 BEOJVN STUDIES. 
 
 and cold as frost, and though I shiver at 
 first the reaction soon sets in and I actu- 
 ally scream with delight. I tingle and 
 burn, and my blood goes racing through 
 my veins with something of ecstatic fury. 
 
 I have fresh air all night as well as 
 all day, for there are innumerable cracks 
 and crevices in the walls of my hut ; but 
 still I like to take a ten-minute tramp in 
 the open by the side of the lake before 
 breakfast, for the sake of doing the new 
 day the courtesy of saying " Good luck to 
 you." The sun is generalty just above the 
 spur to the eastward when I hear Sim's 
 voice calling me, and I like to doff mj 
 hat to him and wish him a pleasant jour- 
 ney up the heavenly hill to the zenith 
 and down the other side to the horizon. 
 
 We are on good terms, the sun and I, 
 and during the livelong da^j his rays 
 come through my windows and make 
 fantastic figures on the floor. When I 
 see them there I think of the terrific pace 
 
 . 
 
FAMILIES IN BOXES. 77 
 
 at wliich they have traveled, covering the 
 ninety million miles between their birth- 
 place and my camp in about ten minutes, 
 and wonder if they have grown weary 
 on the journey. I have often wished I 
 could catch a stray beam or two and bid 
 them tell me the latest news from that 
 wondrous conflagration far away, whose 
 heat kisses the earth into blushing buds 
 and blossoms, and fills the fields and for- 
 ests with a thousand kinds of animal and 
 vegetable life. But they evade my grasp 
 and tell me nothing, silently straying 
 over the floor and walls as though curi- 
 ous to know what floor and walls and 
 camp are for, and why Leo and I are 
 here. 
 
 ^^ John," I said, soon after dusk, "what 
 have you been doing to-day ? " 
 
 " Nothin' partic'lar, sir," he replied, with 
 a drawl, for he likes to be mysterious. 
 It is an instinct with the true hunter to 
 
78 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 say little about his luck unless it be 
 drawn out under tlie pressure of cross- 
 examination, and John is a hunter of the 
 old-fashioned tj'pe. So he said " Nothin' 
 partic'lar, sir/' but in his heart I knew he 
 wanted me to inquire further. 
 
 " What do you call nothing particular, 
 John — a couple of partridges or a brace 
 of rabbits f" 
 
 Sim smiled, but John was evidently 
 offended at my suggestion. 
 
 '^ I've been out since sun-up/' he replied, 
 evasively and sententiously. 
 
 "And you have a good eye and a fine 
 gun," I suggested. 
 
 " As for the gun, it sends a bullet w^here 
 I tell it to, and as for the eye, it mostly 
 sees somethin' if there's somethin' in sight. 
 But ten hours on a stretch and a brace 
 of rabbits — wall, I shouldn't feel like 
 comin' hoine to supper." 
 
 " He's got a big buck out in the wood- 
 shed," chimed in Sim. 
 
FAMILIES IN BOXES. 79 
 
 " So, so ! " I cried, in surprise. '" That 
 is doing well. The first venison of the 
 season, John. We shall have roasts and 
 ragonts and steaks and soups, and live 
 like lords^ — better than lords, in fact, for 
 they seldom have appetites like ours." 
 
 The buck was a beauty. John, it seems, 
 had wandered round nearly all day with- 
 out catching a glimpse of anything, and 
 had about given up when he spied this 
 fellow a liimdred yards off to the leeward. 
 Then came a rifle-crack, and the graceful 
 brute fell in his tracks. 
 
 When I had sufficiently praised John 
 for his skill, and properly admired his 
 achievement, I said : 
 
 "Now, then, I'm in just the mood for 
 a blaze on the hearth ; but none of }'our 
 pine, if you j)lease, John." 
 
 " Hickory ? " he suggested. 
 
 " Have you any ? " 
 
 "Not ver}^ much, for it don't grow to 
 anv consid'ble extent round here : but I 
 
80 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 can pick out enough to satisfy you, I 
 guess." 
 
 It was a good fifteen minutes before 
 that wood began to burn in dead earnest, 
 but there was a kind of solemn dignity 
 about it that pleased me. The dry pine 
 of the other evening had blazed up in a 
 rollicking sort of way, and the flames 
 were wild, hilarious, frolicsome, and irre- 
 sponsible; but this hickory fire was a 
 very different thing — it was calm, serene, 
 reposeful. 
 
 " I shall sit up late," I said. 
 
 "The fire will keep jow company as 
 long as you please, sir, and then light up 
 the room a couple of hours after you are 
 asleep. I kinder like oak, because you 
 can depend on it. We used to have it to 
 home when I was a youngster." 
 
 " Home ! " said John, and I thought 
 there was just a tinge of sadness in his 
 voice. He stood gazing at the bright 
 flames, apparently unconscious of my 
 
 M 
 
FAMILIES IX BOXES. 81 
 
 presence, and memory seemed busy with 
 the past. 
 
 " Your father ? " I ventured to ask. 
 
 "Dead." 
 
 '^ And the mother?" 
 
 "Dead." 
 
 " Sisters or brothers ? " 
 
 "Never had none. The home was 
 broken up, and — and here I am." 
 
 With that he went to finish the chores 
 for the night. 
 
 " Home ! " I said to my heart, as I 
 stroked Leo's head. And I repeated the 
 word again and again. 
 
 A^^iat a curious de^dce for the propa- 
 gation of the race and for our happiness 
 while on the earth the home is ! 
 
 Let me think a moment. I can recall 
 that old Greek parable of the origin of 
 man and woman. I read it years ago in 
 Plato, in the chapter entitled " The Ban- 
 quet," and it made so strong an impres- 
 
82 BEOWX STUDIES. 
 
 sioii on my mind that I have never for- 
 gotten it. 
 
 It is Aristophanes, if I remember aright, 
 who relates it, thongh about this, and 
 also about other details, I may possibly 
 get somewhat astray, and, being in the 
 woods, must depend on my memory. 
 The story runs in this wa}^ : 
 
 When man was created by Zeus, who 
 perhaps wanted worshipers, that his van- 
 ity might be gratified, he gave him the 
 shape of a ball. He had two heads, four 
 hands, four legs, and four ears. He must 
 have been an uncanny-looking creature, 
 and the people on Olympus undoubtedly 
 regarded him as a curiosity. Whether 
 they thought him a successful experiment 
 is not known, but we may imagine how 
 they nudged one another and shrugged 
 their shoulders as this thing went along 
 over the ground like a six-foot sphere. 
 
 It seems that these men were very for- 
 midable adversaries even of the gods, for 
 
FAMILIES IN BOXES. 83 
 
 tliey liad high ambitions and not over- 
 much moral principle. They gave Zeus 
 a good deal of trouble one way and an- 
 other, and more than once he half re- 
 pented having undertaken the task. How- 
 ever, the thing was done and under the 
 circumstances there was nothing left but 
 to make the best of it. 
 
 When, later on, these men attempted 
 to scale the heavens and rob the gods of 
 their authority as well as their posses- 
 sions, a council was held to debate the 
 serious question what should be done. 
 The inferior members of the council 
 were rather inclined to favor total de- 
 struction of the whole race; but Zeus 
 thought he could compass the difficulty 
 without resorting to such heroic mea- 
 sures. He reasoned that he had endowed 
 them with too much strength, and if he 
 could reduce the strength he would lessen 
 the danger. So he caused all these round 
 balls to be cut in two, each having one 
 
84 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 head, a pair of arms, and a pair of legs. 
 The problem was solved, and we hear 
 no more of any attempt to capture the 
 celestial palaces. 
 
 But this peculiar condition of things 
 ensued : when this creature was a double, 
 with all the peculiarities of male and 
 female combined, he was satisfied with 
 himself; but from the moment when he 
 was halved the male and female portions 
 were alike discontented. They could not 
 remain by themselves, but sought each 
 other out and were happ}^ only when each 
 had found his or her counterpart. Ever 
 since that time the man has only been at 
 his best when he has found the other 
 half of himself, and the woman has led a 
 melancholy sort of life until she has fallen 
 into the arms of the man from whom she 
 was separated by the sharp knife of Zeus. 
 
 So love was born of a sense of loneli- 
 ness, a consciousness that somewhere, in 
 some nook or coruer of the earth, there 
 
FAMILIES IN BOXES. 85 
 
 is the other half of one's soul ] and when 
 these two halves come together they see 
 the heavens open and the sunlight stream- 
 ing on their pathway. 
 
 Then the home is built ! Led by mys- 
 terious influences, the man and woman 
 look into each other's eyes as they have 
 never looked into eyes before, and the 
 hand-clasp sends a thrill to two hearts 
 which is unlike anything previously ex- 
 perienced. Each leaves behind a little, 
 lonely world, and together they enter a 
 larger world made radiant by love. 
 
 But if the earty years of married life 
 are the most ecstatic period of our 
 earthly career, they are also the most 
 critical, and by no means unattended with 
 danger. The first twenty-four months 
 after the mutual vows have been made 
 are so filled with possibilities, good and 
 bad, that I think the good folks up 
 above must follow with tender solicitude 
 
86 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 every couple that leaves the altar side by 
 side. 
 
 During the time extending over the first 
 summer or winter the husband and wife 
 see each other in an entirely new light. 
 Some things must be a delight, other 
 things a disappointment, and all things a 
 revelation. The close relations which are 
 adopted bring to the surface a great 
 many unexpected tendencies and traits 
 of character, and it takes a long while 
 for the man and the woman to become 
 accustomed to each other. If they suc- 
 ceed in doing this, the future is secure ; 
 if they fail to do this, they must needs 
 grow apart, in w^hich case the tragedy 
 begins, to end God knows when and 
 where. 
 
 It has often occurred to me that dur- 
 ing an acquaintanceship, and perhaps 
 still more during an engagement, the 
 man sees the woman on her best behavior 
 — not as her brothers and sisters see her. 
 
1' AMI LIES IN BOXES, 87 
 
 She is under a restraint — the kind of re- 
 straint which the desire to please always 
 enforces. She is not her true self — that 
 is, she is not her whole self — while his 
 eyes are upon her. The better qualities 
 are on the surface, and her other qualities 
 are kept in the background. The man 
 may think he knows her thoroughly, but 
 ninety days of married life will show him 
 the dark side of the moon, if there is a 
 dark side, for then the motive for con- 
 cealment is gone. If she is in ill temper 
 she shows it, or if she is petulant she 
 scolds ; and all her other peculiarities and 
 weaknesses are exhibited. 
 
 And the woman sees the man under 
 the same searching light. While he was 
 paying court to her he was particular in 
 his dress, and his language was well 
 chosen ; for he wanted her for his own, 
 and could not endanger his chances of 
 possession by any ebullition that would 
 prove offensive. He was diplomatic, be- 
 
88 BliOWX STUDIES. 
 
 cause he had not won the prize. A single 
 rudeness might have been the tm-ning- 
 point, and so he held himself carefully in 
 cheek. She never heard him in an alter- 
 cation, never saw him when he was out of 
 sorts and swore at the servants or kicked 
 the dog, and was wholly ignorant of the 
 traits he showed when in the familiar 
 company of other men or in business re- 
 lations with them. 
 
 After marriage, however, every restraint 
 is loosened, and he does what he pleases 
 and gives free vent to his feelings. The 
 two are bound together. She cannot get 
 away from him, must make the best or 
 the worst of him, and so he gradually 
 throws aside the courtesies of other days 
 — the very things which, perhaps, made 
 him attractive to her — and displaj^s pe- 
 culiarities wdiich, if she had seen them 
 long ago, would have quickly decided her 
 against accepting his attentions. 
 
 To a very unpleasant extent, therefore, 
 
FAMILIES IN BOXES. 89 
 
 a man and woman are strangers when they 
 start on their wedding-trip. After they 
 find each other out they will either make 
 mutual concessions — that is, come close 
 together at all points where it is possible 
 to do so, and as nearly together as they 
 can at ail other points — or there will 
 come heart-burnings and mayhap heart- 
 breaking. 
 
 The hopeful fact is that in the average 
 man there is enough of good to satisfy 
 the demands of the average woman, and 
 in the average woman enough for the 
 average man to build his life's happiness 
 upon. 
 
 But if there is selfishness instead of 
 concession, and wilfulness instead of lov- 
 ing-kindness, it does not need the lips of 
 a prophet to forecast disaster. 
 
 The best thing for a couple of sensible 
 persons to do who have been married a 
 year, and have come to know each other's 
 weak and strong sides, is to talk plainly 
 
90 BIWIVX STUDIES. 
 
 and lay down some plan of action which 
 will produce the least friction in the long 
 run. 
 
 But women are sensitive and apt to 
 endure a slight in silence. Sometimes 
 men are sensitiv^e also, and, although they 
 are proud of theii* wives' beauty, they 
 suffer untold and unfathomable agonies 
 when even a slightly flirtatious tendency 
 is exhibited. 
 
 Silence under such circumstances is 
 the worst policy. Nine times out of ten 
 the man did not intend the slight which 
 gave pain, and would be only too glad to 
 be told of his bad habits of utterance; 
 and nine times out of ten the woman 
 means nothing by her acceptance of the 
 flatteries of other men, and will see the 
 matter in its true light if it is brought to 
 her notice in the right way. 
 
 If this is not done, and the man be- 
 comes dogged and arbitrary, while the 
 woman continues her flu'tations because 
 
FAMILIES IN BOXES. 91 
 
 they afford her the kind of excitement 
 she likes, then we cannot say that the 
 home will sometime be broken up, for it 
 is practically broken up already. Love 
 withers -, mutual confidence dwindles and 
 soon becomes suspicion. Wlien confi- 
 dence is absent, and jealousy takes its 
 place, it would be best if the woman 
 could be sent to the north pole and the 
 man to the south pole, for they only irri- 
 tate each other and grow more miserable 
 every day. 
 
 It does not follow that I have no right 
 to make these criticisms or to give this 
 advice because I am a bachelor. On the 
 contrary, there are no better judges of 
 human nature than such men as I. They 
 have nothing to do in society except to 
 look on 5 and, in fact, they see so many 
 things of the kind I have referred to that 
 in many instances you can find therein 
 the reason why they prefer to remain 
 
92 BROWX STUDIES. 
 
 single. A bachelor's eyes and ears and 
 intuitions are not good for mneli if lie 
 cannot tell which waj^ the wind blows in 
 most families by the straws he sees. 
 
 Well, let me continue. When two peo- 
 ple determine to live together they look 
 about for some place which suits their 
 fancy. If they are to live in the country 
 they find what is called a house — that is, 
 a larger or smaller box^ four walls and a 
 roof, with apertures through which they 
 can go in and out, and other apertures 
 through which they can look. These little 
 boxes, painted a variety of colors, are to 
 be found in every valley and on every 
 road and hill side. 
 
 The interior of this box is subdivided, 
 and we have one room to sleep in, an- 
 other to eat in, another to cook in, and 
 still another to receive oiu* gniests in. 
 
 The whole thing is a curious contri- 
 vance, and I wonder what some inhabitant 
 
FAMILIES IN BOXES. 93 
 
 of Sirius — they say the people up there 
 are several miles tall and live thousands 
 of years — would think if he should come 
 down to the earth and examine with his 
 microscope one of these boxes and the 
 couple who occupy it. I have no doubt 
 he would regard it as a very queer affair, 
 just as we do the hill of ants or the hive 
 of bees. 
 
 If you go to the city you find long 
 rows of these boxes, made of bricks or 
 stone, and standing close to one another. 
 There are thousands of them, and in each 
 one is a little family — father and mother 
 and two or three miniature human beings. 
 
 These we call our homes, and they 
 mean to us either happiness or misery. 
 What an odd arrangement it all must 
 seem to one who has never looked upon 
 such things before ! 
 
 The mole digs an intricate apartment 
 for himself under the sod; the rabbit 
 burrows; the bird makes for itself a 
 
94 BIWWX STUDIES. 
 
 nest ; and man puts a box on the gTound 
 in wliicli to find shelter. 
 
 It is all very strange ; but i^erhaps the 
 strangest thing of all would be for our 
 traveler from Sirius to watch certain of 
 these human creatures going down on 
 theii- knees, the old and young assuming 
 the same attitude, lifting up their hands 
 toward the sky, and saying something 
 into the air. Would he understand what 
 that meant f Would he regard it as an 
 eccentricity worth studying, and would he 
 like to put a dozen or so of our families 
 into his knapsack, as a botanist gathers 
 plants, and carry them back to Sirius to 
 present to some scientific society as very 
 curious specimens of animal life, whose 
 habitations are on the plan of the moles' 
 burrow or the nests of the birds, onh' 
 more elaborate, and therefore indicating 
 a larger degree of intelligence ? 
 
 But we will dismiss this Sirian giant 
 and his speculations. Whatever our 
 
FAMILIES IN BOXES. 95 
 
 homes may seem to be to him, they are 
 to us the sweetest spots on earth, asylums 
 from the cares of life, where man and 
 wife may weave the events of every-day, 
 like gold and silver threads, into the 
 beautiful fabric of domestic happiness. 
 
 A contented home, even though it be 
 under the roof of a wooden box, is the 
 nearest thing to heaven that we can 
 dream of. 
 
 A man and woman who go, not merely 
 arm in arm, but heart to heart, through 
 woes and joys, getting into sweeter rela- 
 tions with every summer and winter, have 
 achieved the highest purpose that God 
 himself could ask of them. 
 
 "Heigh-ho!" I sighed, at last — for it 
 was getting late — "why could not fate 
 have given me the chance to make such 
 a home f " 
 
 Leo at that moment, as though con- 
 scious of the turn my thoughts were tak- 
 
96 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 ing, put his head, on my knee, and looked 
 into my face as thongh to say, " Kind sir, 
 you have had a longer brown study than 
 usual this evening, and if jou allow your 
 thoughts to ramble as far as Florida there 
 will be no sleep to-night." 
 
 Leo was right. A peep at the stars — 
 for it was a superb night — a di*aft of 
 ice-cold water from the spring, and my 
 day's work was done. The hemlock- 
 boughs made a splendid mattress, and I 
 lay for a while watching the firelight on 
 the floor and the walls, and then fell 
 asleep. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 MISTAKES IN MARRIAGE. 
 
 It Avas cold yesterday — decidedly cold 
 — and I found I needed my heaviest 
 clothing to keep comfortable. The mer- 
 cury recorded ten degrees above zero, 
 which means twenty-two degrees below 
 freezing-point. The wind cut like a knif e^ 
 but Leo and I took a tramp of three hours 
 through the woods, and when I reached 
 camp, just before sundown, I had dis- 
 guised myself with rosy cheeks. My 
 appetite, however, was that of a giant. 
 
 On consulting my pedometer I found 
 
 that we had covered a little over six 
 
 miles. As I carried a ten-pound gun on 
 
 my shoulder — by the way, it grew to be 
 
 97 
 
98 BBOJl'X STLDIL'S. 
 
 twenty pounds before I got back — and 
 two of the miles were along rising ground 
 beyond wliicli was a steep ascent which 
 drove my heart-beats from seventy-two 
 to eighty, I was gloriously fatigued, and 
 felt that I had done a fair day's work. 
 
 I looked into the kitchen, and the 
 aroma of supper gave my appetite a 
 keener edge. I was delightfully hungry, 
 and Sim's smile was the prophecy of good 
 things to come. 
 
 " In half an hour," he said, cheerily. 
 
 " All right, Sim ; but make it as short 
 a half -hour as you can." 
 
 Then came a dash of cold spring water, 
 and I felt like Jupiter Olympus. 
 
 Sim did himself proud on that occa- 
 sion, and the supper w^as w^orth special 
 mention. 
 
 Eating may be a carnal pleasure for 
 aught I know, but since the Lord has be- 
 stowed digestive organs upon us there is 
 no reason why we should not enjoy their 
 
 4 
 
LEO AND I TOOK A TKAMP. PuQt ^JS. 
 
MISTAKi:S IX MAR in AGE. 99 
 
 exercise. It has always seemed queer to 
 me that we must maintain life by putting 
 certain articles into an aperture in the 
 face, and grinding them to proper fine- 
 ness by the enginery of the jaws. Still 
 that is the arrangement which He saw- 
 fit to make, and I have no complaints to 
 offer. 
 
 First Sim placed before me a dish on 
 which reposed a couple of broiled trout, 
 crisp, and with the smell of flames on 
 them. They were big fellows, fresh from 
 the lake. Their flesh was hard, and the 
 bits of curled bacon scattered over them 
 gave a flavor which neither man nor an- 
 gel could resist. I felt like a king, and 
 there seemed to be notliing on earth for 
 me to desire. 
 
 And yet I ought not to say that, for 
 as I sat at the rude table enjoying this 
 royal meal alone a sense of loneliness 
 crept over me. I thought of the orange 
 grove far away, and Avished with a mo- 
 
100 BliOWN STUDIES. 
 
 mentary pang in my heart that She were 
 there to partake of my sumptiions feast. 
 But I soon recognized the inevitable, 
 brushed aside the pain with the reflection 
 that She was happy even if I was not, and 
 tlien helped myself to a second portion. 
 
 " Where did you get them, Sim ? " 
 
 ^' Out of the pool just at the mouth of 
 the stream." 
 
 '^ Were they gamy ? Did you play them 
 long ? Did 3^ou do it with a fly ? " 
 
 He shook his head. " Plain hook, Avorm 
 for bait, and I didn't let them fool round 
 much, for I was in a hurry. Just hauled 
 'em out without any nonsense whatever." 
 
 After the fish, came a juicy, tender, lus- 
 cious venison steak, an inch and a half 
 thick, and some potatoes baked in the 
 hot coals Avith their jackets on. Sim had 
 clearly been put on his mettle ; and when 
 he brouglit me a cup of black coffee I 
 concluded that I had never enjoyed a 
 meal so much in my life. It was a cJief- 
 cVoeuvre^ and I was proud of my cuisine. 
 
MISTAKES IN M ABE J AGE. 101 
 
 Then came another roaring fire. The 
 flames were somewhat eccentric, though, 
 for they dashed a conple of feet from the 
 hearth and then with a graceful curl 
 turned back and went up the chimney. 
 Something had happened to the draft; 
 but the effect was artistic aud charming. 
 
 " Suppose I put a green hemlock-bough 
 on ? " suggested John. 
 
 "What for?" I asked. 
 
 " Didn't you ever tiy it ? " 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Then here goes;" and with that an 
 armful of the green stuff was laid on the 
 flames. 
 
 Such a sputtering and crackling, and 
 such an odor filled the room ! 
 
 But all at once the wind seemed to 
 come down the chinnie}^, and we were 
 enveloped in thick smoke which nearly 
 choked us and made it necessary to open 
 windows and doors. 
 
 "It's as bad as a scolding wife," re- 
 marked John to himself. " There's no 
 
102 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 standing it, and you have to get out. no 
 matter liow cold it is." 
 
 I hardly know why, but that smoke 
 reminded me also of an nnhappy home. 
 So I said rather qnizzically : 
 
 " John, yon never married ? " 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "Why not?" I asked. 
 
 "Didn't dnrst to. It's pretty risky 
 bnsiness,- A single man knows where he 
 is all the time. If he gets married he 
 may be all broke np or he may not be. 
 The chances are agin him." 
 
 With that he shnfiled ont of the room, 
 leaving Leo to his dreams and me to my 
 thonghts. 
 
 " Is it trne," I asked myself, '' that mar- 
 riage is such an uncertain enterprise ? " 
 
 I indulged in reminiscence, recalled one 
 by one the houses where I had been enter- 
 tained, the families with whom I was on 
 familiar terms, the men and women whose 
 secrets were rumored in the clubs, and 
 
MISTAKES IX MARBIAGE. 1G3 
 
 was forced to admit that John was right 
 when he said that "the chances were 
 agin " a married man or woman. 
 
 But I must discriminate, for I wish to 
 be entirety just. It wouhl l)e very stupid 
 to dechire that the worhl is all g'ood, and 
 equally stupid to assert that it is all bad. 
 There is plenty of evil which you do not 
 have to hunt for, because it has an inso- 
 lent way of thrusting itself to the front ; 
 and there is also plenty of good if you 
 take pains to look for it. 
 
 Of all men on the earth the one I de- 
 spise is the arrant rogue who sees every- 
 body else through his own I'oguery. 
 
 The felloAV who sneers at honor in men 
 and purity in women because lie never 
 had any sense of honor himself^ and long 
 ago dispensed with his purity^ is simply 
 intolerable. I would rather have some 
 one drop an icicle down my back than to 
 hear such a one chatter. 
 
 Now, since my business is to tell the 
 
104 BROWX STUDIES. 
 
 exact truth as I understand it, I wish to 
 say, with all possible emphasis, that there 
 are many happy marriages. I know some 
 couples who have been in each other's 
 company for twenty years, and who would 
 not exchange their homes for the bliss of 
 heaven. The husband and wife are not 
 simply bound together by the law of the 
 land, but by that kind of love which over- 
 comes all obstacles and sweetens every 
 sorrow. They would rather be shoulder 
 to slioulder with each other, even amid 
 somewhat straitened circumstances, than 
 side b}^ side with any one else in a palace. 
 The old romance still lingers, the old chiv- 
 alry persists, and the poetry of other days 
 has not changed to prose. 
 
 He brings a rose home with as much 
 enthusiasm as he showed before he put 
 the wedding-ring on her finger, and time 
 has served to mellow rather than efface 
 the tenderness with which he regards her. 
 She is still his queen, the one most of all 
 
MISTAKES IN MARE I AGE. 105 
 
 to be desired ; and lie has never once been 
 tempted to look into another woman's 
 face. She satisfies him, fills his cnp fnll. 
 There is nothing* like hnmdrnm in their 
 lives, and their sun shines as brightly in 
 the afternoon as it did in the morning. 
 
 And she thinks of him .when she is 
 shopping, and stops at the confectioner's 
 for a paper of bonbons of which he is 
 fond, and which will give him a glad sur- 
 prise after the long day's work. Proud 
 of him ? Why, to hear her speak of him 
 yon would think him a god. He is so 
 wise, and so good, and so refined, and yet 
 so manly ! It would never do to let her 
 write his l>iography, for the world Avonld 
 hardly recognize the picture she would 
 draw. But then the world's opinion is 
 nothing; we are only thinking of their 
 opiidon of each other. 
 
 Yes, happy marriages there are; and 
 do yon know, I thhik mine would have 
 been added to the list if She and I had 
 
1G6 BEOJVK STUDIES. 
 
 gone to the altar together. All, she is 
 such a cultured creature, with that refine- 
 ment of soul which only nature can give ! 
 I have sat in the gloaming in the little 
 family parlor and listened to her improv- 
 isations at the piano, when she set her 
 mood to music, and they are the happiest 
 hours within reach of my memory. But 
 from pure merriment, with which she be- 
 gan, she always dropped after a little into 
 the minor key, and played so softly and 
 so sadly that I could not keep the tears 
 from my eyes. 
 
 I often wonder why this always hap- 
 pened; why she should have made the 
 keys laugh to begin with and sigh to 
 end with. Was it a kind of forecast of 
 our future, a prophecy of what was to 
 come f 
 
 Well, I must get away from that sub- 
 ject. 
 
 Now, if there are happy marriages, 
 there are also unfortunate couples who 
 
 i 
 
MISTAKES IN MAEBIAGE. 107 
 
 made a mistake when tliey selected each 
 other. 
 
 The}^ began with castles in the air, and 
 they end with mutnal avoidance on every 
 possible occasion. 
 
 At first there is no pleasure apart from 
 each other; at last there is no pleasure 
 unless they are apart. 
 
 Perhaps my observation has been ex- 
 ceptional ; but when I think of this puz- 
 zling problem I am surprised that I know 
 so many j)eople who blundered when they 
 got married. 
 
 What is the matter with the world? 
 Do people marry too young or too late, 
 or is domestic misery a necessary part of 
 our discipline ? 
 
 Nonsense. We were never intended to 
 be miserable. If we are unhappy it nuist 
 be our own fault. 
 
 Perhaps the severest criticism I ever 
 heard was made by a lady of exceeding 
 refinement. I suspect that in her own 
 
los nnoTvx studies. 
 
 household there is a dark closet where a 
 skeleton is kept, for though she seemed 
 to be merely Avitt}^ there was an ominous 
 compression of the lips when she said, 
 " If YOU wish to keep your influence over 
 a man don't marry him." 
 
 Then I indulged in some ver}- serious 
 reflections on this subject, and reached 
 certain conclusions which are not wholly 
 creditable to either men or women. 
 
 First, we marry at a time when we are 
 least fitted to judge of the conditions of 
 human happiness. The fateful step is 
 taken during the romantic period, before 
 poetry has given way to reality. A young 
 girl fresh from her school-books is not 
 equipped either mentalty or emotionally 
 for a proper consideration of the marriage 
 relation. 
 
 She idealizes her lover. He may have 
 the most glaring faults of character, but 
 she is totally blind to them. 
 
 Neither by education nor by experience 
 
MISTAKES IN MARRIAGE. 109 
 
 is slie fitted to discern between tlie quali- 
 ties which will make her miserable and 
 those which will bring her content. 
 
 She thinks she can be blissfully happy 
 in two rooms, and if her father tells her 
 nay she regards him as a tyrant. 
 
 Warning does no good to either girls 
 or boys, for they are ready to trust a 
 volatile passion in preference to common 
 sense. To what extent, therefore, is John 
 right, when he says that the chances are 
 against both him and her? 
 
 If society were so constituted that lov- 
 ers could make trial of each other for 
 two years of married life, and then decide 
 whether they would travel together, how 
 many separations would there be at the 
 end of the two years? 
 
 How many would discover that '' things 
 are not what they seem " ; and how many 
 would wonder, after the lapse of that 
 experimental period, how it was possible 
 for them to make so grave a mistal^e '? 
 
110 BliOWN STUDIES. 
 
 But society is not so constituted, and 
 we therefore live on after onr terrible 
 discovery, trying to make the best, or, if 
 we are desperate, making the worst of 
 our unhapp3^ state. 
 
 The question is, Wliat proportion of 
 married people do find out at some time 
 that they were never intended for each 
 other, and thereafter live comparatively 
 separate lis^es ? 
 
 It strikes me that these instances are 
 appallingly numerous, and yet I am firml}^ 
 convinced that such catastrophes can to 
 a certain extent be avoided. If men and 
 women will accept and conform to the 
 conditions of domestic happiness, the hap- 
 piness is likely to follow. 
 
 Of coui'se there are exceptional cases 
 where misery is inevitable, as when a 
 husband becomes a sot, and so renders it 
 impossible for the wife to have any close 
 relations with him ; or when, having worn 
 out the noveltv of his own home, he seeks 
 
MISTAKES IX MAKE I AGE. Ill 
 
 the society of other women, and thus makes 
 himself repulsive and unendurable to the 
 wife who swore to love, honor, and obey, 
 but who is freed from the obligation by 
 the man's unworthiness. 
 
 Under such circumstances there is posi- 
 tively no hope, and it is an infinite pity 
 that any woman should be bound to such 
 a man. If his life is spoiled by habitual 
 viciousness there is no good reason why 
 hers should be made a sacrifice to him. 
 If his guilt creates a hell she ought not 
 to be compelled, either by law or custom, 
 to live in it with him. 
 
 Pardon me if I say that the converse is 
 also true. If there are women wlio have 
 ignoble husbands there are men who have 
 unworthy wives. I do not say that there 
 are equal numbers in each categor^^ be- 
 cause I believe that there are more good 
 women in the world than good men ; but 
 I have known at least lialf a dozen in- 
 stances in which men of sensitive feelings, 
 
112 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 high honor, and generous hearts have 
 had their lives despoiled by wives whose 
 immorality (harsh word), or extravagance, 
 or love of excitement, or vicions habits 
 liave converted the once happy home into 
 the abode of silent, because unspeakable, 
 misery. 
 
 I would therefore j)iace men and women 
 on an equal footing in these matters, with 
 no discrimination in favor of either, and 
 declare that no woman's life should be 
 spent for an intolerable man, and no man's 
 life should be thrown away in order to 
 preserve, for purely conventional reasons, 
 the hollow and false semblance of a home. 
 
 I am conservative on most subjects, 
 but in this matter I am sternly radicah 
 
 Remember that I have been a careful 
 observer for twenty years; that I have 
 known three men, whose morning of life 
 was radiant with hope and enthusiasm 
 and ambition, go to a voluntar}^ death 
 because the.v could endure the burden 
 
MISTAKES IX MARRIAGE. 113 
 
 no longer, I do not exculpate them ; per- 
 haps they were cowardly to get rid of it 
 all in that way. Moralize as you please, 
 those are the facts ; and as for myself, I 
 knew what they endured, and pitied them. 
 And I have watched the fading healtli 
 of half a dozen wives. Like willows, 
 they bent to the foul breeze. The color 
 left their cheeks, the hght left their eyes ; 
 they were aged at thirty-five. They sim- 
 ply endured, in most cases without a mur- 
 mur ; their lives ransacked and looted, as 
 though a horde of ruffians had invaded 
 the premises and taken away everything 
 of value. I followed one such — a patient 
 martyr to a brute of a. husband — to Wood- 
 lawn, where the body was laid at rest 
 When the preacher spoke of the incident 
 as an act of Providence I knew, and every 
 one else knew, that it was simply murder ; 
 not with knife or pistol, but with neglect 
 and the poisonous repulsiveness of vice 
 in a dozen shapes. 
 
114 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 No, I cannot say that in such cases the 
 unhappiness of the household can be 
 either wholly or partially mitigated. The 
 elements of destruction are present, and 
 must produce their legitimate results. 
 * But this I do assert : that in ordinarj^ 
 cases domestic happiness may be largely 
 increased, and disagreeable scenes fre- 
 quently avoided, by a proper knowledge of 
 the rules which ought to govern a couple 
 when they undertake to live together. 
 
 I am sure that married people are quite 
 too familiar wdth each other. There is 
 altogether — and I cannot be too emphatic 
 in this declaration — there is too much in- 
 timacy on the physical plane. Unless a 
 certain amount of reserve is maintained 
 the relations of married people become 
 common, and to a sensitive soul there is 
 an element of vulgarity in them which is 
 peculiarly disastrous. 
 
 A woman has a degree of dehcacy 
 
MISTAKES IN MARRIAGE. 115 
 
 which very few of the other sex appreci- 
 ate or understand. If the man sncceeds 
 in lowering his wife's spiritnal tone to his 
 own coarse level he has not only done 
 her a personal injury, bnt he has inter- 
 fered with his own happiness. 
 
 He was her ideal at the beginning, and 
 to lose any of the prestige which follows 
 from that fact is to prodnce a reactive 
 repnlsion which destroys the sonl-relation 
 of the two. 
 
 There shonld be as mnch courtesy when 
 the door of tlie chamber is locked as 
 there is in the drawing-room; and yet 
 that truth is very seldom recognized. 
 
 A man will indulge in allusions which 
 to her modest and shrinking natui*e are 
 repellent. She looks at him in wonder, 
 hardly knowing what he means. He is 
 doing the very thing which in time will 
 produce a revulsion of feeling and almost 
 make her wish that conjugal relationship 
 were not a necessity of marriage. The 
 
116 BROWK STUDIES. 
 
 freshness whicli courtship held so sacred 
 is destroyed by a kind of matrimonial 
 sacrilege. 
 
 It seldom happens that a woman lifts 
 her husband np to the height of refine- 
 ment which she occupies by nature. If 
 it could be done marriage would be a 
 much more divine arrangement than it is. 
 It very frequently happens, however, that 
 the coarseness of the man either drags 
 the wife down to his level or else pro- 
 duces a shrinking from liim which makes 
 her unhappy. 
 
 If the wife is once convinced that she 
 has no will of her own, but is simply sub- 
 ject to his carnal passions, she receives 
 a shock from which recovery is very un- 
 certain. 
 
 Mutual respect can be maintained only 
 by admitting that if he is king she is also 
 queen, and that she has equal rights with 
 himself. When that respect goes every- 
 thing goes Avith it. 
 
MISTAKES IX MAliBIAGE. 117 
 
 The wife is not the man's property, and 
 he cannot do as he pleases. Love is very 
 beautiful, bnt it must be reciprocal if it 
 is to last, and no man can make a woman 
 the object of his physical desires without 
 giving her affections a terrible ^AT^ench. 
 
 I assert, therefore, that half the un- 
 happy marriages in the world are caused 
 by the abandon and license which may be 
 legally sanctioned, but which are morally 
 criminal. 
 
 And I further declare that the sancti- 
 ties of the most mysterious relation in 
 our human life should in no degree be 
 debased to serve the mere appetite for 
 pleasure, and that if they are so debased the 
 inevitable consequence will be the injury, 
 if not the destructiou, of that higher love 
 which makes the home an innocent para- 
 dise in which alone the happiness which 
 is longed for can be found. 
 
 There is another matter which I should 
 
118 BBOWN STUDIES. 
 
 like to comment upon, since I am in a 
 somewhat critical mood. 
 
 I have noticed that men and women 
 may be very fond of and still be very un- 
 just to each other. They are good lovers, 
 but bad friends. Perhaps it is because 
 they love that they are suspicious and 
 ev^en jealous — both suspicious and jealous 
 without cause. 
 
 If a woman thoughtlessly commits an 
 indiscretion she ought to be able to go to 
 her husband at once, make a full and free 
 confession of her fault, and receive from 
 him a chivalrous protection. But the 
 marriage relation is such that he will 
 probably judge her more harshly than 
 any one else ; will magnify the insigTiifi- 
 cant lapse, accuse her of all sorts of im- 
 proper motives, either grow sullen, and 
 remain so for an indefinite period, or else 
 make a fuss larger than the Pj^ramid of 
 Clieops. Almost every man is quick to 
 attribute a bad motive to his wife, and 
 
MISTAKES IN MAEEIAGE. 119 
 
 the consequent estrangement pushes them 
 so far apart that they may never come 
 together again. 
 
 She can go to her mother or to some 
 lady friend, tell the whole story, and be 
 perfectly well understood 5 or possibly she 
 may, in her distraction, confide in some 
 man whose intimacy with the family war- 
 rants such a step, and he will look at the 
 affair in a dispassionate way and assure 
 her that the fault is venial. He pooh- 
 poohs at it, and she finds — fatal mistake ! 
 — a larger charity outside her own house 
 than the man who of all the people in the 
 world loves her best will afford her. 
 
 He is the only one who refuses to be- 
 lieve her. He will even regard her con- 
 fession, though accompanied by tears, as 
 a piece of strategy. Machiavellian in cun- 
 ning, with which to mislead him ; and his 
 vivid imagination will conjure up all sorts 
 of tricks and subterfuges of which in his 
 heart he accuses her. He will not give 
 
120 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 her credit for repenting of her f anlt, but 
 will regard it as her way of getting ont 
 of a difficulty which he may hear all abont 
 from some officious neighbor. 
 
 He is her husband, and ought to know 
 her better than her mother does ; but for 
 some reason he is the one man who per- 
 sistently misunderstands her, and swiftly 
 makes the worst possible case of an inci- 
 dent which really means nothing. 
 
 If she is conscious of this habit on his 
 part, she oftentimes comes to the conclu- 
 sion that the easiest waj^ out of the dilem- 
 ma is to deceive him. A marriage is a 
 good deal like a lump of silver with a 
 seam of lead in it, when a woman thinks 
 it necessary to tell a falsehood rather 
 than suffer from a jealousy which has no 
 foundation. 
 
 If the wife reaches the dehberate con- 
 clusion that there are some things which 
 her husband must not know, domestic 
 happiness is like a building with a crack 
 
MISTAKES IN MABRIAGE, 121 
 
 in its outer wall, and which may tumble 
 into ruins at any moment. 
 
 Perfect confidence is the primary con- 
 dition of a health}^ relation between a 
 man and a Avoman who are Hving under 
 the same roof ; and when that confidence 
 is shattered disaster is sure to follow, or, 
 what is much worse, a continual friction 
 is produced which spoils the life of the 
 man, sends the woman into society for 
 the sake of excitement, and perhaps breaks 
 the hearts of both. 
 
 Let me emphasize my statements by an 
 illustration. Jack and Madge Curtison 
 had a very bright future w^hen they left 
 the church on their wedding-trip. Slip- 
 pers and rice attested the good-will of 
 every one in the circle of their friends. 
 They were apparently as well suited to 
 each other — so I thought when I stood at 
 the back of the church and saw them at 
 the altar — as any couple that ever ex- 
 
122 BliOWK STUDIES. 
 
 changed vows. It was a genuine love- 
 match. Jack was Madge's champion in 
 his boyhood, and I don't know that he 
 ever seriously cared for any one else. 
 
 There were only two criticisms which 
 the cynic could make : he was just a bit 
 jealous and she was just a bit thoughtless. 
 However, we are not archangels, and it 
 was thought that such superficial faults 
 as these would disappear in time. There 
 was nothing on which to base a prophecy 
 of disagreement or unhappiness, for they 
 both had a degree of common sense. 
 
 One day Jack was called to Chicago on 
 business, and parted with his little w^ife 
 with great regret, for she could not ac- 
 company him. He took the train on 
 Thursday night, and within two hours it 
 began to snow. It snowed steadily all 
 the next day until five o'clock, Avhen a 
 slight rain fell, which packed the snow^ 
 hard and made the most magnificent 
 sleighing. Saturday morning the mercury 
 
MISTAKES IN MARRIAGE. 123 
 
 fell to ten above, and the air was crisp, 
 sharp, exliilarating. 
 
 Tom Nevins was an old admirer of 
 Madge, and — I say this in confidence — 
 had some slight hopes in the old days. 
 But thongh Madge liked him and, as she 
 once told me, was very fond of him as a 
 friend, she never in her wildest moments 
 dreamed of him as a husband. Indeed, 
 the distance between them was so great 
 that he never got near enough to make 
 love to her in earnest. At arm's-length 
 Madge thought him a royal good fellow ; 
 but as a lover she looked upon him with 
 a feeling of repulsion. 
 
 Tom kept up his intimacy with both 
 Jack and Madge for a year after their 
 marriage, and then just the shadow of a 
 suspicion came over Jack^s heart. There 
 was no reason for it, since Madge was as 
 devoted as wife could be. Then Tom's 
 visits were less frequent. 
 
 On this particular occasion Tom called 
 
124 BBOWN STUDIES. 
 
 at Madge's with an invitation to take a 
 dash through the park. The two horses 
 were champing their bits at the door. 
 Merry bells were heard everywhere. The 
 snow was clean and iridescent in the 
 sunshine. Sleighing was Madge's delight. 
 She had been the central figure in many 
 a moonlight party of that kind, for her 
 vivacity and love of fun were simply 
 boundless. 
 
 Without givdng the matter a moment's 
 consideration, thinking only that Tom 
 was more than kind to call for her, clap- 
 ping her hands and crying, " How dehght- 
 ful ! " she rushed from the room, and in 
 ten minutes reappeared fully equipped in 
 rich furs. 
 
 She did look beautiful, I must confess, 
 with her sparkling blue eyes and rosy 
 cheeks; and Tom may be excused if he 
 felt proud to have such a companion. 
 
 Well, they had a merry time. But 
 Avhen it was all over, and Madge was 
 
MISTAKES IX MA RE I AGE. 125 
 
 going up the steps, Bella Fremont met 
 her. Bella had a critical element in her 
 nature, and, besides, had once on a time 
 cast longing glances at Tom. They were 
 not returned, however, and the indignity 
 was never forgiven. 
 
 Bella simply said " Ah ! " as she passed, 
 and then, for the first time, Madge saw 
 that she had committed an indiscretion. 
 Her red cheeks became white, and her 
 beautiful e3^es filled with tears of vexa- 
 tion at her own stupidit}'. 
 
 That night she had little sleep. What 
 would Jack say f How should she explain 
 it to him? She heard the clock strike 
 one, then two, then three ; and after that 
 she dropped into wek^.ome forgetfulness. 
 
 She concluded, after long debate, to tell 
 Jack the whole stor}'^, and trust to his love 
 to forgive. '' It's the best way," she said, 
 rather mournfully; '^at any rate, I shall 
 preserve my own self-respect, for I posi- 
 tivelv cannot deceive him." 
 
126 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 So when Jack returned she awaited her 
 opportunity and told him everything. 
 
 I have ah-eady intimated that he had a 
 jealous temperament. 
 
 I can only add that he didn't believe a 
 word she said. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, flushed in 
 the face, and muttered an oath or two 
 while she was talking. When she had 
 finished he went to the window, thrust 
 his hands into his pockets, and whistled. 
 
 " It's perfectly clear," he said to himself. 
 ^^ She tells me because she is afraid not to. 
 Look at it. I go away. The moment I 
 am out of sight one of her old lovers 
 turns up with a couple of horses and a 
 sleigh. She goes off and has a gay time. 
 She has grown tired of me already. She 
 wants more excitement than my presence 
 can afford her. Yes," and he sighed pro- 
 foundly, ^^ I see how it is.'^ 
 
 That wound was never healed. To this 
 
MISTAKES IN MARRIAGE. 127 
 
 day Jack believes that Madge is wilful 
 and a coquette. 
 
 They drew apart, and in the course of 
 two years he had plenty of reason for 
 complaint. He created, by his want of 
 confidence, the very faults which he un- 
 justly attributed to her. Had he taken 
 her in his arms in that hour of confes- 
 sion ; had he told her that she had done 
 him a great wrong, but he believed every 
 word she said, and would never refer to 
 the subject again, she would be his happy 
 wife to-day without doubt. But he was 
 her worst enemy and his own worst ene- 
 my. He had a black look on his face; 
 he was sarcastic ; he gave her plainly to 
 understand that he suspected her; he 
 spent his evenings at the club, and studi- 
 ously neglected her. 
 
 Last year they were so far apart that 
 a legal separation w^as obtained. Jack is 
 a cynical, sour, crabbed fellow, who de- 
 
128 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 lights in making bitter remarks about 
 women ; and she — well, let the subject 
 drop. 
 
 The truth is, Jack was Madge's hus- 
 band, but not her friend. He was harsher 
 in his judgment than he would have been 
 to any other woman imder the same cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 Women may be angels, but at the same 
 time they are human. Men may be hon- 
 orable, but sometimes thej" are fiendish 
 toward those they love best. 
 
 God pity us, say I, when we are in a 
 jealous mood; for all the imps of Satan 
 are let loose upon us like a pack of hounds 
 on a deer. 
 
 At this point the clock on the mantel 
 struck twelve, a very late hour for the 
 woods. The fire had gone out, and only 
 a few charred bits remained, which gave 
 a fitful blaze, as though they had grown 
 weary. 
 
 4 
 
Al INTAKES IN MARRIAGE. 129 
 
 Leo roused himself, yawned, and seemed 
 to wonder wliat liad kept me up so far 
 into the night. 
 
 I had, however, only half finished my 
 task. Bnt there will l)e other chapters to 
 this little book, and perhaps I shall take 
 the subject up again. So I said good- 
 night to the world and lay down on my 
 hemlock-boughs. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MY LOST MARGARET. 
 
 Something haj)peiied yesterday which 
 affected me veiy strangely. 
 
 Before I left New York I arranged to 
 have my letters and papers sent to the 
 village on the edge of which I took canoe 
 for the camp. 
 
 Of conrse I had closed up all my busi- 
 ness affairs, for in case of accident I like 
 to feel that my heirs will have as little 
 trouble as possible. There is no reason, 
 why a man should not go out of the world 
 carrying with him a complete set of clear- 
 ance papers, and I take great pride in the 
 fact that when I join "the innumerable 
 130 
 
MY LOST MAliGARET. 131 
 
 caravan" no expert accountant will be 
 needed to straighten out my books. Be- 
 fore I started for this place, therefore, I 
 paid every bill, and now have the plea- 
 sant consciousness that no man can say I 
 owe him a dollar. The last thing I did 
 was to make my will and deposit it in 
 the vault of my bank, with directions on 
 the envelope as to whom it is to be de- 
 livered if I chance to go to heaven by 
 way of the woods rather than of the city. 
 
 It is a comfort to feel that no one will 
 be harassed and fretted on my account. 
 I shall step into the shadow with an easy 
 mind ; and if on my way to the stars I am 
 permitted to look back I may perhaps see 
 my heirs and assigns in a furious quarrel 
 over the few thousands of which I stand 
 seized and possessed ; but they will not 
 have the satisfaction of calling me an old 
 fool for leaving my business matters in 
 a tangle. 
 
 Some of my friends promised to write 
 
132 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 two or three times during tlie winter, and 
 I was sure there must be at least a bushel 
 of newsj^apers awaiting my order. So 
 five days ago — that was Tuesday — I 
 packed John off for letters, papers, and 
 whatever additional provisions we might 
 need during the long spell of cold weather 
 that may set in at any time. The lake 
 and streams are still open, but cannot re- 
 main so much longer. This was my last 
 chance to communicate with the outside 
 barbarians who delude themselves with 
 the idea that they are civilized and that I 
 am a savage ; and John was not unwilling 
 to take the trip. 
 
 He got back yesterday afternoon — that 
 is to say, on Saturday. 
 
 There was one very amusing letter from 
 an old chum of mine — a member of the 
 Stock Exchange — full oi dry humor, and 
 reminding me that it was not necessary 
 to go into the Adirondacks to find wild 
 animals, for Wall Street is full of them. 
 
MY LOST M AUG ABET. 133 
 
 He gave me a quantity of gossip — by tlie 
 way, liow tame and insipid gossip seems 
 wlien one is living a real life in intimate 
 relations witli the mysteries and grandenr 
 of nature ! — and ended by hoping that if 
 it was to be my fate to furnish a banquet 
 for a bear, I might agree with him — that 
 is, with the bear — and not eost him — that 
 is, the bear — a fit of indigestion. 
 
 There was also a letter from a melan- 
 cholic, grumpy, cynical old society man, 
 who is a good deal like a chestnut in 
 its burr. The outside will sting you as 
 though it took pleasure in doing so, while, 
 if you have patience to work your way to 
 the fruit inside, you will be amply repaid 
 for your pains. He took a fancy to me 
 years ago — why, I never could divine, but 
 possibly because I have always been at- 
 tractive to cranks — and has steadfastly 
 remained my friend ever since. His 
 epistle resembled a mustard-pot, for every 
 taste bit the tongue in a fresh place. 
 
134 BBOJVX STUDIES. 
 
 One 3^omigsterj lie wrote, had gone to 
 Europe for his health, which was another 
 way of saying that he had been unmerci- 
 fully jilted and wanted to get out of the 
 way for a time, until the sneers and jeers 
 of his set had been wafted into oblivion. 
 Another youngster had married a couple 
 of millions plus a rather good-looking 
 girl. Maud Mercer had attended her first 
 ball in No. 2 slippers and a shockingly 
 decollete dress, and old Badger, cetat. 
 seventy-seven, had been placed under a 
 monument which cost twelve thousand 
 dollars. The funeral services were sol- 
 emn, and the clergj-man told the usual 
 assortment of falsehoods in order to com- 
 fort the young widow, who would very 
 soon find comfort in another way. 
 
 Curiously enough, these two letters 
 grated on my feelings. They seemed so 
 out of harmony with my surroundings. 
 The lake and the woods, the sky and the 
 stars, had been talking to me for sixty 
 
Jjy LOST MAliGAUET. 135 
 
 days in the language of repose, and here 
 came an echo from the din and hubbub 
 of a crowd of match-makers and dollar- 
 makers and fashion-worshipers. I felt as 
 I should if a false note were sounded as 
 T listened to an orchestra, or as a lover 
 would if the dear one to whom he was 
 offering- lieart and hand should reject 
 him in the slang of low life. What the 
 woods had been telling me was so differ- 
 ent from this tattle of so-called high life 
 that the letters seemed filled with a kind 
 of vulgarity ; and so, mthout thinking of 
 what I did, I tore them up and threw 
 them into the fire. 
 
 The third letter was from my cousin 
 Cora^ who, as T have told you, lives in 
 Florida, within three miles of that orange 
 grove where She dwells. I sat for some 
 time without opening the envelope, in a 
 brown study. Every minute detail of my 
 courtship, from my first hope to my last 
 disappointment, came vividly to mind, 
 
136 BIIOJI'X STUDIES. 
 
 and I found myself reciting to Leo and 
 the flames in the fireplace a poem of 
 whicli I was once guilty. It expressed 
 my feelings at the time, and the ten years 
 that have since passed have not changed 
 them. It ran somewhat in this wise : 
 
 Only one face in all the world for me, 
 
 Though I am told there's beauty everywhere : 
 It may be so ; I neither know nor care, 
 
 For that one face is all that I can see. 
 
 There is one smile so fills this heart of mine 
 I need no sunshine on the path I tread. 
 Beneath its sweet enticement, fear and dread 
 
 Are changed to hope by alchemy di^ane. 
 
 A laggard svas I till I saw that face ; 
 
 I had no goal until I saw that smile ; 
 
 But now I run, and spurn each conquered mile, 
 For liigh ambition drives me on apace. 
 
 Though all unworthy I may seem to be, 
 
 Yet give me more, nay, dear one, give me all ; 
 Without uplifting strength I fear to fall, 
 
 For what I am, I am through love of thee. 
 
 I don't know that it has any merit as 
 a literary composition, neither do I much 
 care. I told the truth as faithfuUv as a 
 
MT LOST MARGARET. 137 
 
 mirror reflects a man's face, and the smile 
 witli which she thanked me after reading- 
 it has been a kind of rainbow in my sky 
 ever since. 
 
 At last I opened the letter and read as 
 follows : 
 
 "Dear Clarence: The autumn has 
 been specially ]:)eantiful in this region, and 
 I wish you were with us, for I am sure 
 you would find more enjoyment than that 
 horrid solitude and the ice and snows and 
 dripping woods of the Adirondacks can 
 furnish." 
 
 Then followed some personal matters 
 in which you would take little interest. 
 But at the end were these paragraphs : 
 
 " By the way, Clarence, I am sorry to 
 say that Edward Randall is in a very pre- 
 carious condition. I drove over to their 
 grove day before yesterday, and found 
 Margaret in a state of mind. I tell you 
 privately that that woman is not happy. 
 There is a dras^o-ed look in her face, and 
 
138 BEOWN STUDIES. 
 
 she has become hollow-cheeked and siink- 
 en-eyed. She is not hke her old self at 
 all^ and yet a truer wife never lived. I 
 can't quite say whether she ever loved — 
 I mean really loved — Edward or not. 
 That is a puzzle which I don't pretend to 
 guess. But she is untiring in her atten- 
 tion to his ever}^ wish, and seems to find 
 her own happiness in making him happy. 
 
 "I am afraid, however, that there's 
 trouble in store for them. The doctor, 
 whom I saw on my way home, seemed to 
 think that Edward might pull through ; 
 but he added that the poor fellow had 
 very little reserve power, and nobody 
 could tell what miglit happen. 
 
 "I judge that they are pinched. The 
 crop was poor last year, and as that is all 
 they have to depend on, they must be 
 somewhat anxious about their future." 
 
 I read that letter tmce, and then slowly 
 the third time. Standing: in front of tlie 
 
MY LOST MARGARET. 139 
 
 fire, my eyes filled with tears while the 
 past slowly recalled itself. My own life 
 had been broken, but what of hers ? A 
 man can endure anything, but a woman 
 — well, I don't know. 
 
 For a full half-hour I stood still and 
 pondered. My first thought Avas to send 
 a check to my cousin that the little house- 
 hold might be kept together. " What do 
 I want of money if She is suffering from 
 need of it ?" I asked myself. The thought 
 that she was weary with much watching; 
 that she could not command the comforts 
 of life, was excruciating. True, she was 
 not my wife ; true, we had parted in anger, 
 but what of it? My love Avas not dead, 
 and could not die. I had tried again and 
 again to forget her, but love is such a 
 mysterious thing, and so mighty and so 
 subtle, possibly so unreasoning, that in 
 spite of all I was at her service with all I 
 possessed. 
 
 He is sick and she is tired! Then I 
 
140 imojrx jsTuviES. 
 
 groaned in spirit, for to be a tlionsand 
 miles away at sucli a time is an unendur- 
 able hardship. Woidd that I might an- 
 nihilate space and time and, by simply 
 wishing, transport myself to that sorrow- 
 ing home to offer my help and my sym- 
 pathy to both. 
 
 What happiness to knock at the door, 
 to enter that sick-chamber and sa}", " Here 
 I am, and I am going to stand hj yon. 
 Be happy. Get well, Edward. Enjoy the 
 years to come around this hearthstone. 
 I have but little, but that little is yours. 
 The wolf shall be kept awa}^ There are 
 anxieties enough without being anxious for 
 food and the money to pay the rent withal." 
 
 Ah, I thought, if I could only do that ! 
 Would I were such a magician ! 
 
 I looked out of the window. Darkness 
 everywhere. I looked into my own soul. 
 Darkness there, also ; withered years, as- 
 pirations, ambitions. I was like a tree 
 that had put forth blossoms and then 
 
MY LOIST MAUGAEET. 141 
 
 been touclied by a nipping frost. I was 
 a worthless Imman creature, a kind of 
 arrested develo23nient ; my past a tragedy, 
 my f Litiu'e hopeless. I leaned against the 
 mantel, the letter in my left hand, while 
 these crushing memories overwhelmed me 
 like an avalanche. 
 
 "The doctor'' — so my cousin wrote — • 
 " seemed to think that Edward might pull 
 through ; but — " 
 
 Then I turned pale and trembled. Sup- 
 pose he should not pull through? If he 
 were to die, what then? My strength 
 failed me, and I sank into a chair. Leo 
 came to my side, looked into my face in- 
 quiringly, then laid his dear head on my 
 knee in sympathy. 
 
 " Ah ! Leo," I cried, in anguish, " this is 
 a bitter world, a strange world." 
 
 What imaginings came to me ! If the 
 sick man should fulfil the prophecy of 
 the doctor, then she would once more be 
 free! Audi? 
 
112 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 Does any remnant of the old love re- 
 main in lier heart ? Does she ever think 
 of me, or have I been obliterated by the 
 passage of time f 
 
 And if she has the embers of that love, 
 conld I fan them into a new flame, and 
 even at this late honr hold her to my 
 heart as my wife ? 
 
 These nnworthy and ignoble thoughts 
 seized me, but they held me only for an 
 instant. ^' My God !-' I cried, ^' what am I 
 saying ? " and I paced the floor like a mad- 
 man. " To use another man's misfortune 
 for my own benefit ! What devil put the 
 suggestion into my mind ? '' 
 
 I was indignant, even furious, with 
 myself. I hated myself, despised myself, 
 and condennied my conduct with ojipro- 
 brioiis epithets which made Leo wonder. 
 
 I think that in some way he got an ink- 
 ling of my cowardice and shared my own 
 opinion of it, for he walked slowly away 
 
MY LOST MARGARET. 143 
 
 from me, lay down in a corner, and uttered 
 a growl. 
 
 "Even the dog despises me," I said, 
 "and well lie may." I am sure I never 
 passed siicli an hour as tliat wliicli fol- 
 lowed these impious thoughts ; no, not in 
 all my life. I seemed to dwindle in stat- 
 ure ; felt myself shrinking into a hideous 
 dwarf with a hump between his shoulders, 
 a creature that needed only to l)e seen to 
 be loathed. 
 
 I could stand the strain no longer, for 
 I was choking, and my heart thumped 
 against my ribs with the force of a black- 
 smith's sledge. So I rushed out of doors 
 into the accusing night, to ask the for- 
 giveness of God and make my peace with 
 nature. The canoe was at the landing, 
 and in my desperation I leaped into it 
 and rowed far away toward the middle of 
 the lake. 
 
 Perhaps the physical exertion helped to 
 
144 BllOWN ^STL'JJlES. 
 
 calm me. At any rate, I soon regained 
 partial control of mj^self . 
 
 Such a night that was ! The moon was 
 gone, but I hardly missed her, for the 
 myriad stars shone with unwonted luster, 
 and the Milky Way lay athwart the hea- 
 vens like a vast bank of phosphorescent 
 snow. 
 
 The sky seemed to bend over me in a 
 motherly and pitying sort of way, and 
 nature, I am sure, understood my secret 
 and s\anpathized with my mental distress. 
 At an}' rate, as I lay on my oars and 
 watched the deep shadows of the hills on 
 either side of the lake, I could feel the 
 velvet touch of unseen hands on my fore- 
 head, as though trying to soothe my per- 
 turbed soul. 
 
 I was all alone, and yet in the most 
 friendly company. The evil thoughts 
 and horrid imaginings which had peopled 
 my brain like a crowd of brutal roughs 
 had silently taken their departure, and 
 
MY LOST MARGARET. 145 
 
 left me to the sweet infiuences of the 
 scenery around and above me. I felt 
 that I could not be vile in such an envi- 
 ronment. That rush of selfishness which 
 for a time made me half rejoice in the 
 misfortune that had befallen Her home, 
 forget the strange malady which was 
 dragging Her dear one down to the grave 
 day by day, and think only of the possible 
 realization of the dream of my youth, 
 bought at so terrible a price of tears and 
 sorrow — all that left me, and I shuddered 
 at the thought of my utter un worthiness 
 and baseness. Never before have 1 so 
 hated mj^self, for never before have I so 
 fallen in my own respect and sense of 
 lionor. 
 
 I have always loved the stars, and can 
 call many of them by name. They are 
 steadfast friends who never fail you, and 
 on that awful night the^^ did me a kindl}^ 
 service which I shall not forget. Had 
 each one of them been a white-robed 
 
146 BEOWX STUDIES. 
 
 angel whispering words of comfort into 
 my ears, tliey could not have ministered 
 more effectually to my troubled heart. 
 
 Far away in the north, and just above 
 the horizon-line, was Vega, one of the 
 most beautiful of heavenly objects, "a 
 vigorous light that darts surprising rays." 
 I do not wonder that the ancients chris- 
 tened this constellation Lyra, and tried to 
 make themselves believe that it resembled 
 the lyre which Apollo gave to Orpheus, 
 on which he played with such subtle skill 
 that even the rivers ceased to fioAv, lest 
 the rippling of their waters might inter- 
 fere with the di^dne music. 
 
 Then, when my eyes followed one of 
 the great circles, I saw that exquisite 
 group of stars, the Swan, with the little 
 Dolphin just to the westward, and the 
 magnificent sc[uare of Pegasus, with Cas- 
 siopeia overhead and Andromeda lying at 
 full length to the south. 
 
 Farther toward the east was a most 
 
MT LOST MABGABET. 147 
 
 enchanting spectacle, and one that I never 
 look at without being strangely im- 
 pressed: Algol, like a torch in a giant's 
 npiifted hand, mild-featured Oapella, the 
 rival of Vega, with the Pleiades in near 
 vicinity, and that lighthouse on some 
 rocky point of space, fiery Aldebaran. 
 
 But great Orion Avas well above the 
 horizon at nine o'clock on this 12th of 
 December, and when he makes his ap- 
 pearance nothing else seems worthy of 
 attention. There is a certain grandeur 
 in that assembly of celestial orbs which 
 has excited the wonder of the learned 
 and the superstition of the ignorant since 
 those early days when thoughtful shep- 
 herds watched their flocks by night and 
 formulated some rudiments of astronomy. 
 On the upper left is Beltiguese, and on 
 the lower right is Rigel, two huge bon- 
 fires which seem to light up the heavens 
 as though they were new signals of some 
 great battle that has been fought and 
 
148 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 won. Between them are the three stars 
 which form Orion's belt, and just beneath 
 it — not visible to the naked eye, but fairly 
 seen through a good field-glass — is that 
 marvelous nebula, that cloud of star-dust 
 floating in space, which not even the 
 mightiest telescopes can resolve into sepa- 
 rate particles of light. 
 
 This was the glorious company in 
 which I found myself on that winter 
 night. Each star was a member of the 
 great Parliament of Nature ; and such 
 w^as the influence of the august gathering 
 that my cheeks burned with shame at the 
 petty meanness in which I had indulged. 
 These stars, so imperial in their splendor, 
 were the House of Lords in the kingdom 
 over which the Almighty is ruler. 
 
 For two hours I sat in that boat in the 
 middle of that lake ; and when at last I 
 became chilled and numb I rowed back 
 to the camp with a new heart in my 
 bosom. 
 
MY LOST M AUG A RET. 149 
 
 I felt that I was less than nothino;; 
 
 to J 
 
 that so far as I had any authority at all 
 I must use it without regard to my own 
 happiness or advantage 5 that selfishness 
 is debasing and ignol)le. 
 
 I honestly believe that, for the time 
 being at least, I forgot all about myself, 
 and thought pityingly of that hearth- 
 stone amid the orange-trees, where my 
 successful rival was slowly giving w^ his 
 hold on life, and where the woman who 
 still held my heart in her hand, but was 
 not conscious of that fact, walked with 
 slippered feet, lest she might disturb the 
 slumber of the sufferer, and was perhaps 
 at that moment tearfully pleading with 
 the Lord to spare her the bereavement 
 which might befall at any moment. 
 
 When I reached home I Avas met at the 
 door by Leo, who had evidently been 
 wondering why I had absented myself. 
 First of all, in the hope of washing away 
 the sin I had committed, I knelt and 
 
150 BliOll'X STL'VIJlS. 
 
 prayed for Her, that ahe might not need 
 to drink the bitter cup of sorrow; and 
 then for him, her husband, that he might 
 live and be happy in the love of his wife. 
 
 Yes, I sighed as I rose from my knees, 
 bnt not from regret for the words I had 
 spoken. I sighed, for it seemed as though 
 God had already answered my petition 
 and left me to go on to old age alone. 
 And yet, though sighing, I was proud of 
 my victory over myself, proud that I had 
 learned the lesson taught by the stars, 
 proud that I had a degree of true manli- 
 ness which needed only to be developed. 
 
 It may seem strange to you, but when 
 I voluntarily renounced the hope which 
 I had suddenty entertained, and deter- 
 mined to 23rovide for that stricken house- 
 hold even if it took the last remnant of 
 my slender fortune, I was filled with a 
 serene contentment, a quiet kind of hap- 
 piness which was worth a thousand times 
 the sacrifice that I was willing to make. 
 
MY LOST MARGARET. 151 
 
 I threw a couple of pine logs on the 
 glowing embers, sat for another hour in 
 serene and pleasant contemplation^ then 
 crawled into my corner and fell into the 
 sweetest sleep I have had for many a long 
 day. 
 
 I can now recall that my last words 
 were, '^ She shall not suffer want, and he 
 shall have the best medical skill that 
 money can command. God bless them 
 both." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A man's world. 
 
 The winter has been a remarkably 
 open one until a fortnight ago — that is, 
 the 1st of January. I took long trips on 
 the lake, with Leo for my sole companion, 
 and flatter myself that I have become a 
 skilled oarsman ; but a sudden change in 
 the weather put a stop to my pleasure, or, 
 rather, gave me a different kind of plea- 
 sure in which to indulge. 
 
 The mercury, at the time I speak of, 
 dropped to zero, and the air cut my cheeks 
 as though it were fiUed with pounded glass. 
 For two days the mercury held its own, 
 and then, in a moment of caprice, fell to 
 152 
 
A MAN'S WOBLD. 153 
 
 ten degrees below. While I was in tlie 
 woods it was necessary to strike a rapid 
 gait to keep myself from turning into an 
 icicle; and when I was in my sitting- 
 room, with a roaring fire, I was roasted 
 on one side and half frozen on the other. 
 But I was greatly exhilarated, and ex- 
 ceedingly enjoyed being alive. 
 
 The lake had a thick covering of ice 
 which seemed like a mirror for the sun 
 by day and the full moon and stars by 
 night. 
 
 Sim, who is an inventive sort of crea- 
 ture — a fellow of infinite resources — saw 
 me standing on the shore one morning, 
 and asked if I would like to take a sail. 
 
 I natural^ supposed he was joking, 
 and asked him what he proposed to do 
 with the ice. 
 
 "I mean a sail on the ice," he replied. 
 "Have you never been on an ice-boat, 
 sir?" 
 
 On answering him with a shake of the 
 
154 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 head, he remarked, " Then I'll give you a 
 new sensation, sir." 
 
 In a few hours he had made and rigged 
 a very picturesque contrivance. The run- 
 ners were some skates which we had 
 brought with us, and the sail was a huge 
 horse-blanket. 
 
 That afternoon Leo and I went on our 
 first voyage of discovery. I am an old 
 yachtsman, and have a pretty fair know- 
 ledge of all sorts of craft, but this ice- 
 boat gave me a good many surprises. 
 Leo sat on his haunches at my side, and 
 looked at me as though to say, "I don't 
 quite see how we are to come out of this 
 affair alive ; but a St. Bernard knows how 
 to die with his master, if need be, and so 
 look after yourself, and I will hold on if 
 I can." 
 
 When we got off, the wind blew gently 
 and steadily for a while, which was lucky, 
 since it gave me a chance to get used to 
 my yacht; and I don't think I ever en- 
 
A MAN'S WOULD. 155 
 
 joyed anything mt)re. But when we 
 reached Tala Point, about a mile from 
 the camp, there came a squall down the 
 mountain- side, and for a few minutes I 
 was a good deal excited. The craft 
 struck the pace of a whirlwind, and the 
 rnnners glided over the ice with the 
 sound of fairy nnisic. I held the tiller 
 in one hand, the main-sheet in the other, 
 and actually screamed with ecstasy. But 
 soon the wind changed to a mere puff 
 again, and we jogged along at the insig- 
 nificant rate of ten or fifteen miles an 
 hour. 
 
 When I tacked, and held the wind on 
 the beam, my little boat tilted at an a.ngle 
 of forty-five degrees, and I had all I could 
 do to hold my place. Poor Leo had much 
 more than he could do, for he fell off, but 
 instantly gathered hiniself together, and 
 with a merry bark— for he, too, was ex- 
 eited— gave me chase. He struck his best 
 gait; but the wind had freshened, and in 
 
156 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 a couple of miniites he was so far beliind 
 that he looked like a mere puppy. I 
 tacked once more, to give him a chance 
 to catch np ; but when he made a curve in 
 order to reach the yacht he tumbled and 
 slid over the glassy surface for nearly ten 
 rods. 
 
 When he took a seat at my side again, 
 panting, but as near to laughter as a dog 
 ever comes, he fairly winked at me, as 
 much as to say, " That was a fine joke on 
 your part, wasn't it ? You tipped me off 
 of your old ice-boat on purpose ; now 
 don't deny it. I'm not angry, though, for 
 I had a very good run, and feel all the 
 better for it." 
 
 We had this sport both morning and 
 afternoon for three days, and I think Leo 
 enjoyed it as much as I did. 
 
 On the 4th of the month Sim was 
 standing with me in the doorway, and 
 remarked, sententiously : 
 
 ^^ Storm coming ! " 
 
A MAN'S WORLD. 157 
 
 "A storm?" I said. "What do you 
 mean ? Tlie sun is bright, there is scarcely 
 a cloud anywhere 5 the wind blows from 
 the westward, and there is every indica- 
 tion of good weather. Why do you think 
 a storm is brewing ? " 
 
 " Rheumatics," he answered. " Got 'em 
 in my elbow, and that elbow never made 
 a mistake. Storm sure before midnight, 
 and I guess itll be snow." 
 
 At the end of this colloquy I said, 
 " Sim, will you do me a favor ? " 
 
 '' Certainly," he replied. 
 
 " I want you, sometime, when it is con- 
 venient, and you feel in the mood, to tell 
 me about the experience you had with 
 the ghost. Am I asking too much? I 
 do not wish to pry into any secrets, but 
 I am interested in that sort of thing, and 
 rather tlnnk I have seen one or two ghosts 
 myself. If you have no objection I should 
 like to have you tell me what happened 
 on that occasion." 
 
158 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 Sim hesitated, but at last replied, " All 
 right, sir; but you know a man doesn't 
 like to be laughed at, or taken for a fool, 
 and—" 
 
 ''Don't fear anything of the kind," I 
 broke in. " My dear fellow, I shall treat 
 the subject very seriously, I assure you, 
 for I am inclined to believe that spirits 
 do sometimes linger near the earth for a 
 time, if they have any reason to do so." 
 
 So the matter was settled. 
 
 At about nine o'clock that night it 
 began to snow. The flakes were at first 
 just like wool, and they fell with great 
 deliberation, as though they had begun 
 a long task and proposed to take it 
 leisurely. 
 
 And it snowed so effectively and so 
 generously that by the next evening the 
 stumps in the clearing were covered. Then 
 came a half -hour's rain, after which the 
 mercury took another drop, and left every- 
 
A MAN'S WORLD. 159 
 
 tiling with such a thick crust that one 
 could walk on it. 
 
 It was a dazzling* spectacle which met 
 our eyes when the sun rose in the morn- 
 ing. It seemed as though the powers 
 above had showered diamonds and opals 
 on the earth. 
 
 John said, ^'This is my chance, and I 
 must be off." 
 
 '' Chance for what ? " I asked. 
 
 ^' For game." 
 
 '' Why so, my dear fellow ? " 
 
 " Because a deer, with its sharp hoofs, 
 will cut through the crust and get quickly 
 tired out." 
 
 It seemed to me a mean advantage to 
 take, but John told me we were nearly 
 out of fresh meat, and it was necessary 
 for some one to go into the woods. 
 
 At about seven the next evening Sim 
 brought in some splendid hickory logs, 
 and built such a fire as Avould have done 
 
160 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 yoii good to see. I sat before it ponder- 
 ing all sorts of subjects, but at last fell 
 into a brown study in wliicli She figured 
 conspicuouslj^ That gave way after a 
 while, and then my thoughts ran as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 The earliest tribute and the most deli- 
 cate ever paid to woman was offered by 
 Adam just before his expulsion from 
 Eden, The record of it is to be found in 
 a very greatly misunderstood passage of 
 Scripture. 
 
 I am not much of a scholar, and should 
 scarcely venture to interpret Scripture 
 on the authority of my own knowledge. 
 But I have an old classmate, John Jessig, 
 who has studied these matters profoundly. 
 He is settled, I believe, in a little village 
 named Woodbine, and preaches to a con- 
 gregation of mill-hands. 
 
 I had a long talk with him one day in 
 his library, just after my great disappoint- 
 ment : and being in somewhat cynical 
 
A MAN'S WOULD. 161 
 
 mood — for my wounds were all fresh at 
 the time — railed at the inconstancy and 
 caprice of woman. Perhaps I spoke bit- 
 terly, but if so I think I may claim some 
 indulgence, for when a man's life has been 
 suddenly crushed you can hardly expect 
 him to bear his burden graciously. In a 
 few months, possibly, his shoulders will 
 get used to the weight of his tribulation, 
 but for a while he is in a chaotic state of 
 mind, and neither knows nor cares what 
 he says. 
 
 ''It was a woman," I remarked, "who 
 had the first evil thought, and her caprice 
 and coquetry have caused three quarters 
 of the world's unhappiness. It was a 
 woman who tempted Adam, and she has 
 ever since been engaged in the same kind 
 of business. I admit," I continued, " that 
 Adam was cowardly, and — " 
 
 "Oh no," Jessig broke in, "he was not 
 at all cowardly. The Lord asked him 
 this pertinent question : ' Hast thou eaten 
 
162 BEOJVX STUDIES. 
 
 of tlie tree, whereof I commanded tliee 
 tliat tlioii shouldest not eat ? ' and Adam's 
 reply was memorable. He said, 'The 
 woman whom Thon gavest to be with me, 
 she gave me of the tree, and I did eat.' " 
 
 " Well/' I saidj sharply, " was not Adam 
 a coward to hide behind snch a paltry ex- 
 cuse as that ? Why didn't he come boldly 
 to the front, confess that he did eat, and 
 be decent enough not to imphcate the 
 woman? If he had been any sort of a 
 man he would certainly have done just 
 that ; but perhaps you excuse him on the 
 ground that he was an experiment. For 
 my part, I wish the experiment had never 
 been made. The world would, in my 
 opinion, be a great deal better without 
 men and women than with them. So far 
 as I can see, they are about as close to a 
 failure as Omnipotence is Hkely to get." 
 
 " You are mistaken," cried Jessig, '^ en- 
 tirely mistaken. Your interpretation of 
 the verse does injustice to the incident. 
 
A MAX'S WOULD. 1G3 
 
 Adam was a good deal more of a man 
 than you give liim credit for being. He 
 did not hide behind the woman, bnt, on 
 the contrary, came boklly to the front 
 with his defense, and I think you will be 
 forced to admit that the defense was an 
 admirable one." 
 
 "Ah, yes, Jessig, I see how the wind 
 blows. You are a theologian, and there- 
 fore a special pleader," 
 
 "Nothing of the Idndj but I propose 
 to look facts in the face, and the fact is 
 that Adam behaved admirably and paid 
 to Eve a very high compliment." 
 
 " Indeed ! " I said, with a shrug of the 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Yes, and I will force you to acknow- 
 ledge it," retorted Jessig, with great ear- 
 nestness. "To pax'aphrase the passage, 
 Adam said, ' Lord, you gave me this beau- 
 tiful creature to be my companion. I 
 have known her only a little while, but it 
 is plain that she is much wiser, and more 
 
164 BliOWX STUDIES. 
 
 spiritually minded, and lias finer intui- 
 tions than I. I regarded her as so much 
 superior to myself in every respect that 
 when she plucked the apple and ate it I 
 supposed, that of course it was all right ; 
 and when she found that the fruit was 
 pleasant to the taste, and graciously of- 
 fered some to me, I took it without any 
 hesitation whatever, for I did not imagine 
 for a moment that she was capable of 
 doing wrong.' " 
 
 That is what Jessig told me about the 
 passage, and I at once accepted his inter- 
 pretation. 
 
 I did this all the more readily because 
 my conviction is that woman is nobler 
 and purer and truer than man. 
 
 The world could get along better with- 
 out men than without women. I make 
 that statement not because I wish to be 
 gallant or to indulge in agreeable flattery, 
 but because I believe it to be the truth. 
 
 For the perpetuation of the race it is 
 
. A MAN'S WORLD. 165 
 
 necessary that there should be two sexes, 
 though why it should be necessary to per- 
 petuate the race in that way is a problem 
 which I have never been able to solve. 
 
 Up to within half a dozen generations 
 there have been practically nothing but 
 men in the world. They have owned 
 everything, created a public opinion to 
 suit themselves, and relegated woman to 
 the kitchen as a cook, or sent her into the 
 parlor, covered with silks and diamonds, 
 to entertain their guests. 
 
 And w^hat kind of an affair have they 
 made of it? Is there a single honest 
 municipal government on the face of the 
 earth? Is business conducted on the 
 square principle of justice and fair pla}', 
 or is it a vast game of grab, in which the 
 strongest, boldest, and most inhuman ac- 
 quires his millions, wdiile the poor man 
 starves ? Does a man care who suffers, 
 provided the sufferer is not himself ? If 
 
166 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 by some base trickery he can legally seize 
 what belongs to others — a flourishing 
 trade or a railroad — does he lose a night's 
 sleep because he sends a score of his 
 fellows into bankruptcy or a hundred 
 orphan girls into the streets, that they 
 may save their bodies by selling their 
 souls? Not he. 
 
 And what do his fellow-men say ? Do 
 they denounce him, arrest him, imprison 
 him, cage him as they would any other 
 wild beast? Far from it. They envy 
 his talent tor deviltry, and thousands of 
 youngsters tr}^ to walk in his footsteps 
 and play the same tricks. 
 
 If a wretch of this kind loses his money 
 he is kicked ; but if he keeps hold of it 
 his crimes are condoned, and the best 
 man in the city is proud to walk along 
 the avenue mth him arm in arm. When 
 he goes to church does the clergyman, 
 who is thoroughly acquainted with his 
 career, lash him with the fury of his elo- 
 
A MAN'S WORLD. 167 
 
 quence, and denounce liim as an impostor 
 and a liumbng 1 On the contraiy, he is 
 careful not to offend him by word or 
 phrase ; and as for the possibility of hell, 
 the minister closes the trap-door and 
 stands on it until the rich man has passed 
 by. 
 
 Oil yes, it is a man's world, and woman 
 has had mighty little to do with it so far. 
 But wherever she has been allowed to 
 make her appearance she has exerted a 
 refining influence. When English htera- 
 ture was written for men onl}^ it was 
 coarse and obscene ; but when women 
 began to read books the obscenity was 
 obliterated and the coarseness was modi- 
 fied. 
 
 If there were no women men would 
 verj^ quickh^ become brutal. No corn- 
 pan}^ of males can get together without 
 indulging in talk which would not be 
 tolerated at their family dinner-tables. 
 The men whom you know, who would be 
 
168 BROWX STUDIES. 
 
 disgusted at a story full of base insinua- 
 tions, can be counted on the fingers of 
 your two hands ; while the men who roai- 
 at witty nastiness are to be found every- 
 where in dress suits. When they go into 
 the society of the other sex they simply 
 suppress these peculiarities for the time 
 being, and force themselves to a degree 
 of gallantry which is not natural to them. 
 They Avill carry the conversation as far 
 toward forbidden topics as they dare to, 
 and overstep the hmit unless they are dis- 
 couraged by the woman's more modest 
 nature. 
 
 But if there were no men women would 
 make a far better world than this one. 
 They could get along a great deal easier 
 \^ithout us than we could without them. 
 They would make their mistakes, of course, 
 but they would be the mistakes of essen- 
 tially pure natures, not those of creatures 
 with brutal tendencies. 
 
 i 
 
A MAN'S WORLD. 169 
 
 If the Lord had peopled two rival 
 planets, one with men alone and the other 
 with women alone, there is very little 
 doubt that at the end of ten thousand 
 years no one from the man's planet would 
 be allowed to intrude upon the woman's 
 planet, because he would be considered 
 a demoralizing element ; but if one of the 
 inhabitants of the woman's planet should 
 visit the man's planet she would be wel- 
 comed with triumphal processions as a 
 superior being. 
 
 Perhaps this experiment has been tried 
 somewhere in the universe, and it may 
 be that the perpetuation of the race is 
 provided for in some more elevating way 
 than obtains with us. If that be so, then, 
 when we get rid of our bodies and can 
 tra\^el with the speed of light from con- 
 stellation to constellation, we -may pay 
 these planets a visit, and discover that 
 life on this earth is an extremely rudi- 
 
170 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 nientary affair, not much better, in many 
 respects, than that of the wild beasts that 
 roam our forests. 
 
 I put a couple of fresh logs on the fire 
 and resumed my brown study. 
 
 Just look at the course of events and 
 see how this idea of masculine superiority 
 came about, and why, in all the earlier 
 ages, w^onian had standing-room only. 
 
 The first business of mankind in the 
 olden time was fighting. Brawn, not 
 brains, was at the beginning of things. 
 That man was made in the image of his 
 Creator was by no means manifest. On 
 the contrary, brutality prevailed, and the 
 only difference between a man and a tiger 
 was that the man could outwit the tiger. 
 Might was right, and its symbol was a 
 stone arr.ow-head with a drop of poison 
 on its tip. Killing was the universal 
 trade. It was a gory time, and women, 
 simply because the}^ could not bear the 
 
 I 
 
A MAN'S WOULD. 171 
 
 brunt of war as their brothers and lius- 
 bancls could, were sent to tlie rear. Their 
 only mission was to gratify the passions 
 of warriors, and see that they had enough 
 to eat. The men made public opinion to 
 suit themselves, and regarded conjugal in- 
 fidelity as an honor rather than a shame ; 
 Avhereas, if a woman was audacious enough 
 to sin in the same way, she was tortured 
 to death as a warning. 
 
 "When brains began to come into vogue, 
 however, it was discovered that she was 
 richly endowed. That was a great sur- 
 prise, but still the lord of creation held 
 his ow^n, arguing that a woman's sphere 
 is limited to her home, and that she un- 
 sexes herself when she asserts her right 
 to exercise her talents in any direction. 
 She was sneered at and jeered at, and the 
 sneering and jeering was called conser- 
 vatism. 
 
 Woman has never yet, even in this 
 nineteenth century, been allowed to do 
 
172 BEOWN STUDIES. 
 
 herself justice. Nobody knows what she 
 is capable of, for she is an undeveloped 
 creature, with large possibilities which are 
 curbed and checked by the fossiliferous 
 notions of man. 
 
 He has had full opportunity to show 
 his mettle, and every incentive to do his 
 utmost, his bravest, his noblest, and his 
 best. 
 
 That opportunity has never yet fallen 
 to her lot, and what she has achieved has 
 been in spite of all the restrictions which 
 the coarser sex could conceive of and 
 apply. 
 
 She is the unsolved problem in our his- 
 toric career, the unguessed puzzle of the 
 ages ; but when she wins her victor}'-, and 
 takes her place as one of the owners of 
 the world, with a right to command as 
 well as to obey, to make her voice heard 
 in legislation, and her opposition to cor- 
 rupt practices felt, there will be some start- 
 ling changes, all of them for the better. 
 
A MAN'S WORLD. 173 
 
 Now that I am considering this topic I 
 should Hke to free my mind on one or 
 two other matters, and then perliaps I 
 shall sleep with an easy conscience. 
 
 Suppose I make the assertion that 
 nearly all girls are pure-minded and 
 nearly all boys are far otherwise. Sup- 
 pose I indulge my rashness and declare, 
 still fui'ther, that it is an intolerable 
 shame for a girl to have impure thoughts 
 or indulge in impure practices, but in a 
 boy they are taken as a matter of course 
 and considered an evidence of manliness. 
 
 I am not cynical when I make these 
 statements, but simply tell a truth which 
 everybody knows and nobody speaks of. 
 
 With what tender care and constant 
 watchfulness we guard girlhood ! Not a 
 breath of suspicion must attach to her 
 name ; not even a rumor must float in the 
 air. She is to be kept in ignorance of 
 the wicked ways of the world, and, if 
 possible, unconscious that there is any 
 
174 BEOWX STUDIES. 
 
 wickedness. The ideal gii-l is a very lily, 
 pure wliite, without a single stain. The 
 mother never loses sight of her, her com- 
 panions are closely scrutinized, she must 
 have no intimacies with the other sex, 
 and when she takes her place at the altar 
 the man who stands by her side must 
 feel sure that her life has been imstained 
 by a single indiscretion, and that she is 
 ignorant of the experiences which await 
 her. 
 
 But does the young man expect to be 
 measured by the same standard, and is 
 he able to present to her the same kind 
 of character that she offers for his pro- 
 tection ? 
 
 Oh no, for you must not forget that 
 this is still a man's world. He would 
 never dream of marrying her — he would 
 scorn the suggestion — if he supposed she 
 had a single ink-spot on her garments; 
 but as for himself, that is quite another 
 matter. It is her business to be abso- 
 
A MAN'S WOULD, 175 
 
 lutely pure, and it is his privilege to be 
 covered all over with ink-spots. 
 
 When a hoy in the early twenties breaks 
 loose from moral restraints, indulges in 
 every kind of imaginable vice, spends his 
 time in rioting among the horde of inde- 
 cencies which every large city furnishes, 
 and reels home to a stertorous sleep, this 
 queer, eccentric, irrational, and stupid 
 world looks at him with a smile, and 
 simply remarks that he is sowing his wild 
 oats, and stoutly asserts that wild oats 
 are the first legitimate crop for the young. 
 
 Is it, then, a good thing to begin life 
 with a bath in dirty water in order to 
 appreciate the clean water of after-years ? 
 Is it true that it is better to dull the finer 
 sensibilities at the start, to mar one's self- 
 respect, to mingle with all manner of 
 lewdness as a preliminary to honorable 
 manhood ? 
 
 Swinburne said recently that vileness is 
 necessary to education, and that the man 
 
17G BIlOW^^ STUDIES. 
 
 wLo is not smutcliecl with tar at some 
 time in liis life never knows how beauti- 
 ful goodness is. 
 
 Then it ought to he made a condition 
 of entering heaven that a man must 
 spend a certain amount of time in hell. 
 
 But if the principle is sound, why not 
 extend it ? If evil experience enables one 
 to enjoy good experience, why is not the 
 rule applicable to women also ? Are they 
 to be deprived of the higher kind of ap- 
 [)reciation because man wants everything 
 that is valuable for himself ? 
 
 How would yoa like to have jowr 
 daughters run loose as your boys do 5 go 
 iiito all possible dens of vice, visit all 
 places of infamous resort, hobnob, with 
 immoral characters, in order to fit them 
 to take their places as wives and mothers ? 
 
 You shudder at the thought, do youf 
 Then why not also shudder when you 
 know your boy is indulging in these 
 luxurious vices? 
 
A MAN'S WORLD. 177 
 
 Wliat kind of a world would it be in a 
 couple of hundred years if the advocates 
 of this theory should apply it to both 
 sexes ? 
 
 You might as well say that a boy ought 
 to eat a certain number of decayed apples 
 or half a dozen stale eggs, that he may 
 be brought to a proper appreciation of 
 good fruit and fresh eggs. 
 
 The simple truth is that when a man 
 goes into the musty cellar he never gets 
 the odor out of his clothes, and when he 
 leads a vicious life he can never wholly 
 recover that kind of manliness or that 
 higher sense of honor which is the endow- 
 ment of innocence. 
 
 A girl has just as good a right to de- 
 mand that her lover shall be free from 
 impurities as he has to demand that she 
 shall be. The prevailing ideas on this 
 subject are flat, stale, and unprofitable. 
 
 I insist that if a man has acquired ha- 
 bits of moral uncleanness before marriage, 
 
178 BEOWX STUDIES. 
 
 neither the blessing of the minister nor 
 the fact that he has undertaken new re- 
 sponsibilities will destroy them. In ex- 
 ceptional cases the man may rise to the 
 emergency and begin a wholly different 
 life ; but I am familiar enough with so- 
 ciety in New York to declare that nine 
 times out of ten, when the novelty of the 
 new situation wears off, he resumes his 
 old habits, breaking the heart of the wife 
 and destroying the peace and hapj)iness 
 of the home. 
 
 At this juncture John appeared at the 
 door. 
 
 " What luck ? " I cried, awakened from 
 my dream. 
 
 " Fair," he answered. 
 
 "What did you bag?" 
 
 "A fine little doe and a splendid old 
 buck." 
 
 " Did you bring them with you ? " 
 
A MAN'S WORLD. 179 
 
 " The doe, yes 5 the buck, no. I'll have 
 to go for him to-morrow." 
 
 "It was a great day's sport," I said, 
 cheerily. 
 
 " Nothing to complain of," he answered, 
 and then adding, "I thought I'd just re- 
 port so you needn't think I was lost in 
 the woods," he shut the door and was 
 gone. 
 
 Leo came for a moment's petting, but 
 he and I were both sleepy and so said 
 good-night to each other. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SOJNIE CURIOUS PROBLEMS. 
 
 Here is part of a letter from one of 
 the best fellows in the world, honest Tom 
 Livingston. 
 
 He never married, and that rather ex- 
 cited my interest in him about eight years 
 ago. Since that time we have been close 
 friends, exchanging confidences on all 
 subjects save one. On a single occasion 
 I led him toward a revelation of the rea- 
 son why he was not a family man, but no 
 trap could catch him. He never told me 
 his story and I never told him mine. I 
 always regarded that topic as too sacred 
 to be discussed, and took a strange sort 
 of pleasure in the thought that no living 
 • 180 
 
SOME cmiors peoblems. isi 
 
 human being — I except Her and. myself — 
 knows wliy I left Her lionse one night in 
 March and never went hack. When I 
 found that Tom regarded his own experi- 
 ence in the same hght I felt that tliis 
 bond of mutual reticence would eventu- 
 ally draw us closer together than we could 
 ever get by wearing our hearts on our 
 sleeves. 
 
 And so it proved. I respected the fact 
 that he had a lump of lead in his bosom 
 and would carry it to the end. There 
 was just a faint tinge of melancholy in 
 his bearing which was very attractive. 
 During my first five minutes' talk with 
 him I said to myself, " That man has had 
 a stunning blow some time." But I never 
 learned, from him at least, who gave it. 
 
 To be sure, there was a legend con- 
 nected with him, but a legend — well, it 
 is a legend and nothing more. It may be 
 wholly tru(», or only partly true, or wholly 
 false, and is not to be trusted. 
 
182 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 It ran to this effect : 
 
 Wlien lie had just turned twenty-five he 
 was engaged to a girl whose beauty was 
 the envy of her sex. She had been edu- 
 cated in Paris, she belonged to a family 
 that had inherited wealth for foin* gen- 
 erations or more, and she was not spoiled 
 either b}^ wealth or admiration and flattery. 
 She was as simx3le as a child, as innocent 
 as an angel, and possessed of a brilliant 
 wit which gave her an irresistible charm. 
 All this may l)e an exaggeration for aught 
 I know, but I tell the tale as it was told 
 to me. Women with that combination of 
 excellences are not often seen, but even 
 if she was all that fancy, painted her I am 
 sure that my friend Tom deserved the 
 prize lie had won. 
 
 It is not enough to say that the two 
 lovers were happ}^ That is a poor word 
 to use, because it is so weak, so tame, 
 so inadequate to describe the ecstatic 
 bliss of love's young dream. That love 
 
SOME CURIOUS PROBLEMS. 183 
 
 may not be stronger tlian the love of later 
 years — i^erhaps it is not so strong or so 
 deep or so enduring — but tliere is a pecu- 
 liar flavor about it which is never tasted 
 by man or woman more than once in a 
 lifetime. A divine aspiration transforms 
 the two into god and goddess, and when 
 they look into each other's eyes they see 
 each other's souls. The touch of the 
 finger-tipSj even though it occurs by acci- 
 dent, makes the nerves tingle throughout 
 the entire body and the rich blood rush to 
 the cheeks. To sit side by side pretend- 
 ing to read a paragraph together, with a 
 v/hispered word now and then, or a side 
 glance Avhicli tells more in an instant than 
 the lips could reveal in an hour — all this 
 is like a series of electric shocks which 
 make the heart jump and the hands 
 tremble. 
 
 No couple that ever trod the globe, so 
 says the legend, were better suited to eacli 
 other by taste and temperament than 
 
184 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 Tom and his ideal. They had a rosy 
 moruiug, and it seemed as though their 
 path would be strewn with flowers all 
 day. But it was not to be. 
 
 Strange things happen in this queer 
 world, and when we are happiest we may 
 be dose to some unspeakable woe. It is 
 not only true that the darkest hour is 
 just before dawn, but also that the very 
 In'ightest and sunniest hour is sometimes 
 just before a catastrophe. 
 
 Tom was suddenly called to St. Louis 
 on business. He would be absent not 
 more than ten days, but ten days in a 
 lover's life are a small eternity. When 
 he bade Madge good-by she burst into a 
 passionate flood of tears. This was so 
 unlike her usual demeanor that it startled 
 him. She was a self-contained creature, 
 not at all impulsive in her exhibition of 
 emotion; but on this occasion she flung 
 herself into his arms, and for a long time 
 refused to release him. '^I know that 
 
SOME C URIO US PR OBLEMS. 1 85 
 
 yoii must go/' she said, "and it is per- 
 fectly proper that you should go. Why 
 I am so oppressed I can't say. My heart 
 is heavy, and I have a strange feeling 
 that we shall not see each other again." 
 
 He supposed, of course, that she was 
 anxious' about him and feared tliat some 
 accident might happen on the way, but 
 never once dreamed of danger in connec- 
 tion with her, for a ruddier-cheeked angel 
 never flitted from heaven to bless the 
 earth with her presence. So he laughed 
 at her fears, promised to take the best of 
 care of himself, and to send her letters 
 on the way 5 then with embraces and 
 kisses they said their farewells. 
 
 He had no sooner reached St. Louis, 
 however, than a messenger thrust into his 
 hand a telegram. He blanched as he 
 read the words : 
 
 " Madge is ill. The doctor fears pneu- 
 monia, but hopes for the best. Will keep 
 you well informed." 
 
18G BBOWK STUDIES. 
 
 The poor fellow reeled. To be fifteen 
 Imndred miles away at sncli a time was 
 agonj^ Why had he started on this jour- 
 ne}^ ? Why had not a kindly fate inter- 
 vened in his favor? If he had delayed 
 the trip for a conple of days he might 
 noAv be at her side. What cruelty of cir- 
 cumstance ! 
 
 That evening at eleven o'clock he re- 
 ceived another telegram : 
 
 ^' Doctor is more hopeful. Says you 
 need not be disturbed. All gohig well." 
 
 Unless yon have yourself been in such 
 a situation, you cannot understand the 
 revulsion of feeling which Tom endnred. 
 To stand on the edge of a precipice, know- 
 ing that the next step is inevitable, Imt 
 that you must take it, and then to look 
 up snddenly and see that some magician 
 has filled the chasm and yon can walk on 
 witliout fear or dread — that l)ut feebly 
 represents the relief which Tom experi- 
 enced. To be sure, he slept but little that 
 
SOME CURIOUS PROBLEMS. 187 
 
 night, for what he regarded as his nar- 
 row escape was constantly in his mind, 
 and every now and again he passed from 
 a fever that seemed like a consuming fire 
 to a chill that froze his very vitals. 
 
 The next morning a third message 
 reached him : 
 
 "Madge is worse. She calls for you. 
 Come if possible." 
 
 Of course he left his business unfinished 
 and took the next train for the East. But 
 one thing nearly crazed him, namely, he 
 could not hear from her on the way. 
 What might not happen while he was doing 
 his best to reach her! Two nights and 
 two days must pass before he could get 
 another Avord. He sank into his seat 
 with a groan, and as the train started it 
 seemed as thougli he were entering a dark 
 tunnel . Would he emerge by ai \ d l)y into 
 the light, or would the darkness last for- 
 ever '? 
 
 He arrived in New York at last, but 
 
188 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 when he reached the door of Madge's 
 home he saw bhick crape hanging from 
 the bell-handle. 
 
 She was gone. The light on his path 
 had been extinguished. 
 
 I am told that when he stood by her 
 coffin and looked at that sweet face, he 
 neither moved a muscle nor shed a tear, 
 but was like a statue carved from marble. 
 
 Let me think; that must have been 
 fully ten years ago. Ten years ! If grief 
 lasts that length of time it is likely to 
 last always. 
 
 Not that it remains poignant — that 
 would be more than human nature could 
 bear. It changes from a sharp pain to a 
 dull ache. One feels a kind of heaviness, 
 as though something were all the time 
 portending; a depression which makes 
 life look like a gray day. 
 
 Now some people — I may venture to 
 say most people — can pull themselves to- 
 
SOME CURIOUS PBOBLEMS. 189 
 
 gether after any sort of affliction. How- 
 ever mncli tliey may be linrt, the wound 
 heals so completely that hardly a remnant 
 of the sorrow remains. They enter into 
 new relations, and the old memories are 
 washed away as a name written in the 
 sand when the tide rises. Perhaps it is 
 better so, and yet I like it not. 
 
 I have no patience with a man whose 
 love is like a bundle of hay, which burns 
 with terrific energy and then goes out. 
 
 I remember one such, and I have never 
 forgiven him. When the body of his 
 wife lay ready for the burial ser\'ice he 
 was like a wild man. His tears were a 
 mountain freshet. I pitied him, and went 
 to his side and whispered what few words 
 of condolence I could summon. It seemed 
 as though he woidd die, for he trembled 
 in every limb and his very teeth chattered. 
 With a terrible moan he threw himself 
 on the body, and in the most agonized 
 tones begged the dear one to come back. 
 
190 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 After that he fell into a chair half faint- 
 ing. 
 
 I don't know that I was ever more 
 affected in my life. He was like a mag- 
 nificent bnilding after an earthquake — 
 nothing but a pile of debris; and I felt 
 certain that he wonld never recover from 
 this shock. 
 
 It was only six months later that I saw 
 him on the avenne with a lady, chatting 
 in the jolliest way, and laughing at her 
 witticisms. The weed was still on. his hat, 
 but that was the only evidence of mourn- 
 ing I could discover. At the end of a 
 year he sent me cards to his w^edding, and 
 then I recalled the dramatic grief of that 
 other occasion, and, with something which 
 I fear had the appearance of profanitj^, 
 threw the cards into the fire. 
 
 The fellow was not to blame ; he was 
 made so. It seems to me, however, rather 
 desirable that the Lord should limit the 
 
SOME CURIOUS PROBLEMS. 191 
 
 number of that sort of men as far as may 
 be convenient. 
 
 Not so with Tom. It was as impossible 
 for him to speak of his gTief as if he had 
 been born dumb. Neither would he allow 
 any one else to refer to it. It was his 
 private, personal possession, and he re- 
 fused to share it with any man on the 
 earth. I think he would have considered 
 it a sacrilege to tell that story. But if 
 you were intimate with him you soon dis- 
 covered that the love of women had no 
 place in his heart. His longing for a 
 home was dead, and he repudiated every 
 expression of sympathy. But there were 
 lines in his face, especially at the corners 
 of his mouth, and a certain something in 
 the glance of his eyes, which made you 
 say, " That man has either lost his fortune 
 or met with a great disappointment." 
 
 There are such men in the world, and. 
 
192 
 
 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 I am inclined to think, a good man}^ of 
 them. They are so constituted — and there- 
 fore it is no merit — that they can love 
 but once. They who sang to them have 
 departed, but the echo of their voices is 
 still in their hearts, and will remain there 
 until on the other side the voices shall be 
 heard again. 
 
 All these reminiscences came to mind 
 as I held Tom's letter in my hand. I sat 
 before the blazing fire for nearly two 
 hours in absorbed meditation, looking at 
 this panorama of other years as m}^ good 
 genii unrolled it. I looked at the old 
 fireplace and at the clock on the wall and 
 through the window into the dark night, 
 and yet saw neither mantel nor clock nor 
 darkness. My present was wholly oblit- 
 erated, and I leisurely strolled along the 
 golden highway of memory, listening to 
 the voices of many friends, some of whom 
 have grown gray and bald since those 
 
S02IE CUBIOrS PliOBLEMS. 193 
 
 far-away times, while others have drawn 
 the curtain aside and gone beyond the 
 shadows. 
 
 I awoke with a start, as though some 
 stranger liad rudely placed his hand on 
 my shoulder. Had I been really asleep 
 and dreaming ? Everytliing was so real, 
 so vivid. I rubbed my eyes, for I was 
 quite dazed, but came to myself again 
 when I saw Leo, shaggy old fellow, sit- 
 ting on his haunches and staring at me. 
 
 '' Heigh-ho, my dog ! '' I said, as I rose 
 from the chair, " it is a queer world, isn't 
 it!" 
 
 He deliberately laid his nose on my 
 knee and uttered a kind of guttural 
 sound, which, I am sure, meant, "Yes, 
 master, it is a cjueer world both for dogs 
 and men." 
 
 " Tell me, Leo, would you like to go 
 back to your puppyhood and live your 
 life all over again ? Would you be mll- 
 ing to go through with the rough experi- 
 
194 BBOJyy ST [DIES. 
 
 ence of the days when your trainer nsed 
 his whip so freelj^, or when you had that 
 long sickness, and your master, thinking 
 you were sure to die, left you in a corner 
 and wondered where he could get another 
 dog to take your place? Would you, 
 Leo?" 
 
 The dear fellow looked at me in a won- 
 drously wise way, then gave a quick bark. 
 I understood him perfectly. He said, very 
 decisively, "No, master, I would not. I 
 am ready to face the future, and bear 
 whatever it may bring with the fortitude 
 of an honest and well-meaning dog ; but, 
 my dear master, one journey of this kind 
 is quite enough for me."' 
 
 "You are right, Leo," I answered, as I 
 patted his beautiful head ; " you are right, 
 dear dog. And if 3^ou were to ask me the 
 same question I would give the same an- 
 swer. Some of my years have been long 
 and wear}^; some have been short and 
 happy. But I would not live them over 
 
SOME CURIOUS PROBLEMS. 195 
 
 again for worlds. Ouce will do, Leo, ouce 
 will do." 
 
 Then I opened the letter and read it. 
 The only part which can interest yon I 
 will qnote. Tom wrote : 
 
 '^You remember Mary Kendal! Of 
 conrse yon do. Fonr artists have gone 
 wild over her Titian hair and her wonder- 
 ful complexion. They have all begged 
 her on bended knee to allow them the 
 honor of painting her portrait for the 
 next Academy exliibition. She was in- 
 exorable, however, and the artists have 
 threatened to commit suicide. • It would 
 be worth a fortune to a painter to ' do ' 
 her on canvas. Applicants would have 
 to stand in a row after that, and take 
 their turn as they do at the box-office of 
 a theater. Perhaps these four had an 
 eye to business as well as beauty. Wliy 
 not, by the way f 
 
 " Well, this very Mary Kendal is to be 
 married next month. The engagement 
 
19G BliOJVX STUDIES. 
 
 was announced last November, about a 
 week after you left New York. But can 
 you guess who tlie gentleman is ? Think 
 of the last man in the world whom she 
 ought to marry ; think of the fellow than 
 marry whom you would a thousand times 
 prefer to see her in her shroud. Well, 
 that man is her choice. They tell me 
 that neither her father nor mother has 
 tried to influence her ; that she has had her 
 own sweet way in the matter, and has 
 reached the deliberate conclusion that 
 she and he are to be like the Babes in the 
 Wood, and are to keep house in the sub- 
 urbs of Elysium. 
 
 " I ask myself ever}^ day if it is possible. 
 And every time I think of that sweet face 
 I say to myself, 'No, it is not possible. 
 If there is a man on the footstool who 
 should be unutterably repulsive to her 
 that is the man, and \^et she dreams of 
 bliss.' 
 
 '' Clinton Markham is the honored in- 
 
SOME CURIOUS PROBLEMS. 197 
 
 dividual, and when I write that name yon 
 need not be the son of a prophet to fore- 
 tell the future." 
 
 I confess to very great astonishment 
 w^hen I read those paragraphs. I felt like 
 packing my gripsack and taking the next 
 train to town to tell the girl that she 
 had better throw herself into the Hudson 
 River. But with a shrug of the shoulders 
 and a sigh I admitted that such a course 
 would be madness, and that she would 
 probably ask the butler to show me to 
 the front door. 
 
 The rashest man in the world is he who 
 tries to reason with a girl in love. 
 
 '^ Leo/' I said, " why does the Lord al- 
 low us to get into such tangles I Here is 
 a young girl who is walking across a rail- 
 road bridge on the ties, and she is blind- 
 folded. The trains dash along every 
 quarter of an hour, and there is hardly 
 one chance in a million that she will 
 reach the other side in safety. Yet she 
 
198 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 sees no clanger, heeds no warning, and 
 thinks herself unspeakably happy." 
 
 I sometimes think it a pity that God is 
 so patient. If He wonld only spare me a 
 thunderbolt or two, and give me author- 
 ity to liurl them, Clint Markliam would 
 never go to Grace Church with Mary 
 Kendal. 
 
 But I am exhibiting a good deal of 
 feeling without giving you an}' reason 
 for doing so. Let me tell the story, for 
 I know it all., I cannot say that it is in- 
 teresting in itself, but it suggests a prob- 
 lem which I have wearily pondered and 
 never solved. 
 
 The position which women assume on 
 the subject of marriage is so far beyond 
 my comprehension, and so entirely differ- 
 ent from what it should be, that I despair 
 of ever understanding it. That is my 
 puzzle, and I will proceed to illustrate it. 
 
 Clint had a father who let the boy run 
 
 1 
 
SOME CUIUOUS riWBLEMS. 199 
 
 wild. He was too much engrossed with 
 the cares of business to give attention to 
 anything else. The love of money was a 
 disease, a passion, with him, and he had a 
 genius for acquiring it. Everything he 
 touched turned to gold, and every specu- 
 lation, however rash it seemed, added to 
 ills cash account. When he was worth a 
 milHon his greed assumed a still more 
 furious shape. He dreamed of nothing 
 but hard cash, and told me on one occa- 
 sion that his highest ambition was to 
 make Clint, who was his only son, the 
 richest youngster in town. 
 
 " But," I said, " money is a dangerous 
 possession, and Clint has alread}^ formed 
 habits which you cannot approve." 
 
 I had the right to speak in this way, 
 l^ecause the Markhams were distantly re- 
 lated to our family. 
 
 ''Tut, tut!" replied the old man, "he 
 must take his chances like the rest. To 
 be sure, he is a little top-heavy just now, 
 
200 
 
 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 but by and by he will take in ballast and 
 get on an even keel." 
 
 Up to the present moment Clint has 
 not taken in any ballast, but is more top- 
 heavy than ever. 
 
 The most difficult task in the world is 
 to make character after you are thirty, 
 especially w^ien you liav^e no raw mate- 
 rial to make it of. 
 
 If a fellow gets into evil practices when 
 he is young he is like an old country road 
 where the ruts are so deep that if you try 
 to get out of them }'ou In-eak your wheels. 
 
 Clint was the leader of a ver}^ fast set. 
 They wore out all decent and reputable 
 pleasures in a few years, and then found 
 excitement in ways that are not to be 
 mentioned. Like the gourmand, whose 
 delicacy of taste has been dulled, and who 
 resorts to the strongest spices and condi- 
 ments, these boys could find no zest in 
 anything that was not forbidden liy hon- 
 orable societv. So at twentv-five Clint 
 
SOME CURIOUS PROBLEMS. 201 
 
 was an old man, a blase creature, haunted 
 by ennui. He had discovered all that 
 Paris and Vienna could disclose, and was 
 morally as much a wreck as the lost coaster 
 whose bones are bleaching on the sands 
 of Long Island. 
 
 I don't believe he has looked with pure 
 eyes on a woman in years ; neither do I 
 believe that there is a vice conceivable or 
 inconceivable in which he has not in- 
 dulged. 
 
 But remember, please, that his father 
 had between eight and ten millions in- 
 vested in handsome securities; and re- 
 member, also, that he had a certain polish 
 of manner which disguised his real self 
 as a costume disguises the actor. 
 
 Such fellows, when they marry, always 
 search for an exceptionally innocent girl. 
 They never dream of taking one of their 
 own kind. The tiger-lil}^ wants the chaste 
 pimpernel for a companion. Clint wanted 
 Mary Kendal. The two were no more 
 
202 BltOJVX STUDIES. 
 
 fitted for each other than a fiend from 
 the infernal regions, reeking with the 
 smell of snlplmr, is fit for tlie last re- 
 deemed sonl that went to heav^en. 
 
 When, a jeav ago, I detected the strategy 
 of Clint I found occasion to mention the 
 subject to Mary's father and mother. 
 
 They smiled at my earnestness. 
 
 '^Mary is twenty- three," said the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 *'And Clint has skeletons enough to 
 supply a medical college," I retorted. 
 
 " He has money," said he. 
 
 " But not character," I blurted. 
 
 '' He is considered an enviable j^cu'tV^ 
 
 " By fools who might just as well send 
 then' daughters to sea on a raft as to in- 
 trust their happiness to him." 
 
 ''He stands as well as most men." 
 
 " That is hardly a compliment to ' most 
 men.'" 
 
 " He has eccentricities, of course." 
 
SOME C Villous PROBLEMS. 203 
 
 "That is a strange word to use. I 
 should prefer to call them crimes." 
 
 They shrugged their shoulders in an 
 indifferent way. 
 
 " Does Mary know his reputation ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " She has heard rumors." 
 
 " But you know the rumors represent 
 the truth." 
 
 ''It will be a grand wedding." 
 
 " Or a grand funeral," I replied. 
 
 And this is what puzzles me : that a 
 father who loves his daughter as he does 
 his life will deliberately place her in the 
 arms of the vilest man on the planet, if 
 he is a millionaire. 
 
 But there is a harder puzzle than even 
 that to guess ; namely, that a woman, a 
 religious woman, as the word goes, a 
 thoroughly virtuous woman, has in most 
 instances no horror of vice in a man. 
 
204 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 For that matter, I have an impression 
 that many women fi.nd the company of an 
 immoral, but, of course, a gentlemanly 
 fellow far more piquant and interesting 
 than that of a strictly honorable man. 
 
 If a woman has sinned they would no 
 more touch her than they would touch a 
 tarred stick ; but a man may sin a thou- 
 sand times, may break every law in the 
 decalogue, and it is no bar to his marriage 
 with the purest woman in society. 
 
 There are exceptions to this rule, but 
 they are not overnumerous. 
 
 A lady once paid me a confidential visit. 
 A friend of hers was in love with a man 
 whom I knew very well, and our conver- 
 sation was entirely frank. 
 
 " What do you know^ about him ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " I know all about him." 
 
 " Well, I don't ask you to tell me the 
 ^all,' but will you kindly tell me some- 
 thing?" 
 
SOME CURIOUS riiOBLEMS. 205 
 
 '^ I shall be glad to answer your ques- 
 tions, but I don't care to volunteer any 
 information." 
 
 "He is said to be ricli. Is it true?" 
 
 " I happen to know that he is." 
 
 ''Has he bad habits?" 
 
 " Some of the worst." 
 
 " Such, for instance, as — " 
 
 ''He is fast, and I wish to include in 
 the word matters which I do not care to 
 speak of more explicitly." 
 
 "Does he drink?" 
 
 " Not largely ; not more than the world 
 thinks becoming in the ordinary club- 
 man." 
 
 " Would he make a good husband ? " 
 
 "Do you mean would he be faithful to 
 his wife ? " 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 "Decidedly, no." 
 
 " You are sure that he does not drink 
 to excess ? " 
 
 " I think so." 
 
206 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 Then slie arose with a smile and thanked 
 me, saying that I had relieved her fears, 
 and there seemed to be no reason why 
 the two should not become engaged. 
 
 My looks showed my surprise, and she 
 answered the qneryin my eyes by saying 
 bluntly : 
 
 "My friend has no feeling whatever 
 about the conquests with which her lover 
 is credited. Indeed, if tlie stories she has 
 heard are true, she rather takes pride in 
 tlie fact that she has captured the man 
 who is so fascinating that other women 
 have fallen before him. But " — and here 
 she became severe — "if he drinks to ex- 
 cess — ah ! that is a very different matter. 
 It is the only subject on which I have felt 
 any anxiety." 
 
 I know you will cry " Impossible ! " but 
 the story is absolutely true. 
 
 It is a very serious problem whether 
 women, as a rule, though pure themselves. 
 
 1 
 
SOME CUIUOUS PROBLEMS. 207 
 
 care very mncli whether tlieir gentlemen 
 friends are pure or not. 
 
 At any rate, it is perfectly clear that 
 there is no emphatic or decisive demand 
 among the majority of women that the 
 same moral standard shall be applied to 
 both sexes. And I may add that in what 
 is called good society no pnnishment 
 whatever is visited on the man whose 
 rcpntation is soiled. 
 
 I know that I am talking harshly. 
 Possibly yoii may cry out against me and 
 declare that I am cynical. Bnt Avill you 
 tell me why Mary Kendal, whose soul is 
 as white as a dove's wing, could marry 
 Clint Markham, whose soid is as black 
 as a raven's breast ? Why can purity wed 
 with impurity and feel no repulsion, but, 
 on the other hand, be thoroughly fasci- 
 nated ? 
 
 And how is it that her parents, who 
 know just as well as I do that the mar- 
 ried life of that couple will change from 
 
208 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 paradise to piirgatoiy in a few years, 
 could give their willing consent to tlie 
 match which will cost their daughter a 
 broken heart ? 
 
 The rich man can do what he will, and 
 no stinging criticisms follow liim. He 
 rules by right of cash. But the poor fel- 
 low whose only endowment is an honest 
 bod}^ must not presume too much. If he 
 should ask the hand of your daughter 
 you would show him to the door. 
 
 The world does not care for honorable 
 lives as much as for a bank-account. 
 
 Women are custodians in this realm, 
 but they ask few questions if the suitor 
 keeps a carriage. 
 
 It has more than once happened under 
 my own observation that mothers have 
 literally thrown their girls into the arms 
 of unworthy men for the sole reason that 
 un worthiness excited no disgust, while 
 riches roused their envy and admiration. 
 
SOME CURIOUS PROBLEMS. 209 
 
 At this point Leo stretched himself, 
 yawned, and looked at me as though to 
 say, " Master, these are late hours for the 
 woods." 
 
 I took the hint, and in my di-eams — but 
 why speak of dreams ? 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHY DO WE MARRY"? 
 
 I AM lia\Ting a wonderful lioliday, and 
 am sorry that it is so nearly over. Per- 
 haps I was cut out for a hermit and ought 
 never to go back to the city. 
 
 I think T can understand how old 
 Simeon Stylites felt when he chmbed his 
 column and from its top looked down on 
 a bustling, hurrying, tired-out world with 
 something like disdain. 
 
 This love of solitude seems to have 
 been progressive with him, and I am in- 
 clined to believe that the same is true of 
 me. I am not at all gregarious — that is, 
 I don't like men and women simply be- 
 210 
 
WHY DO WE MAURY? 211 
 
 cause tliey are men and women. To tell 
 the trutli, I like the company of Leo bet- 
 ter than that of most people, and when 
 he and I are together we are both happy. 
 
 In the Slimmer I have spent a whole 
 day sitting on a log, with my microscope, 
 examining the beauty of the moss which 
 covered it, a thousand different varieties, 
 each more exquisite than the last. It is 
 a forest in miniature, miles and miles of 
 almost impenetrable wood compressed 
 within the space of an inch. 
 
 And I like to he in some shady spot 
 with my field-glass, and watch a gray 
 squirrel rushing hither and yon with in- 
 credible speed, and chuckling to himself 
 when he finds what he wants. I wonder 
 what the little rogue is thinking of when 
 he catches a glimpse of me, sits on a 
 branch, his brush gracefully curved, and 
 looks at me with those great brown eyes 
 of his. He turns his head first to this 
 side and then to that, trying to make out 
 
212 BBOJVX STUDIES. 
 
 what I am, wliy I was made so huge, 
 Avliefcher I can climb a tree as nimbly as 
 he can, and w4jat I am gazing at him for. 
 Then he gives it np as a problem too large 
 for a squirrel's comprehension, suddenly 
 remembers that his curiosity has made 
 him forget his caution, and with a shrill 
 whistle darts into the foliage, springing 
 from limb to limb wdth marvelous alacrity, 
 and hiding himself behind a bunch of 
 leaves. 
 
 Wild animals have a good many advan- 
 tages over us who boast about our civili- 
 zation. My little squirrel, for example, 
 is never bothered about house-rent. He 
 finds a suitable residence in some old tree, 
 snugs it up a bit, brings in from the for- 
 est a little dried grass, makes a comfor- 
 table bed for himself, and holds his title 
 to the property in. fee sim]3le from the 
 Almighty. He has no iceman to look 
 after, no milkman to watch, no butcher 
 to scold because he sends tough chops, 
 
WHY DO WE MARRT? 213 
 
 and, blessed privilege ! no servant-maid 
 to break his bric-a-brac and treat lier 
 company to his store of Avalnuts when he 
 has gone off for a ramble. 
 
 If he is hungry he finds a morsel some- 
 where, and is in bliss. There is no table 
 to be cleared off, there are no dishes to 
 wash, no spoons and forks to be counted 
 every day because they have a way of dis- 
 appearing, and none of the annoyances 
 of housekeeping which make it doubtful 
 whether life is worth living. There is no 
 spring cleaning in his little home, for if 
 he does not like his apartment, why, the 
 Lord has almost as many houses to rent 
 as there are trees in the forest, and all 
 he has to do is to take his pick and be 
 satisfied. 
 
 But I was talking about my resem- 
 l)lance to the Syrian Stylite. He got his 
 first taste of solitude as a herdsman, we 
 are told, and spent his days and nights 
 
214 BIWWX STUl)If':S. 
 
 alone amid tlie silence of naturej witli 
 nothing to do except to tliink and keep 
 his eye on his sheep. Possibly he had a 
 dog to help him guard the flock, and that 
 gave him all the leisure he wanted. Think 
 of such a life in close communion with 
 hills and valleys and streams, with no 
 one to fret you about the tariff, or get 
 you into an endless discussion on the in- 
 come tax. 
 
 It was in such solitude as he enjoyed 
 that astronomy was born. Those old 
 shepherds peered at the overhanging 
 heavens month after month until they 
 discovered that certain stars belong to 
 certain seasons of the year, that either 
 we move or the sky moves all the time, 
 and that a wonderful panorama is being 
 unrolled by some one, suggesting myste- 
 ries beyond their reach. They were filled 
 with awe at the magnificence of the spec- 
 tacle, and made record of the changes 
 that occurred during the la,pse of a year. 
 
WHY BO WE MABBYf 215 
 
 These records grew more important age 
 by age, until at last it was found that 
 we are only a little world in an immense 
 multitude of worlds wliich came we know 
 not how, wliich are going we know not 
 where, and wliich will come to a conclu- 
 sion we know not when. 
 
 But this Simeon Stylites had a reputa- 
 tion for godliness, and the people came in 
 crowds to get a look at him. In. disgust 
 he built a pillar ten feet high, where he 
 lived for a while. But the tide of hu- 
 manity surged all about him, and he was 
 tired of its noisy ebb and flow. So he 
 climbed up a new pillar, this time sixty 
 feet high, and stayed there about thirty 
 years. 
 
 How they ever got him down when he 
 was dead is something I know nothing 
 about. It is enough that he was buried 
 at Antioch, and that his biographer, An- 
 tonius, tells us he was a very decent sort 
 of man. 
 
216 BIWWX STUDIES. 
 
 I do not believe I should like to live ou 
 a platform four feet square for the sake 
 of getting away from my kind, but I feel 
 sure that it is harmful to our personal 
 characters to live in such close relations 
 with one another as we do. 
 
 It sometimes seems to me that society 
 is a great seething mass of bodies and 
 minds and souls, which are so tangled 
 that no man lives his own life, but is in- 
 fluenced and therefore injured by the 
 magnetism of the whole. The hardest 
 thing in the world is to have thoughts 
 which are absolutely your own, for most 
 of our opinions are either made or modi- 
 fied by the prevailing opinion in our 
 neighborhood or in the circle to which we 
 belong. 
 
 It was to get rid of all that, and to find 
 out whether there would be anything left 
 after I had subtracted from my sum total 
 all that I had unconsciously absorbed 
 from others, that I came into these woods 
 
WHY 1)0 WE MARllYi 217 
 
 to live with Leo and my two backwoods- 
 men and myself. 
 
 I am forcibly reminded of this by the 
 hnge batch of letters which lies on my 
 table, some parts of which I propose to 
 read to yon. 
 
 Here, for instance, is one from Tom 
 Nevins. It is full of tattle, bnt will serve 
 as a good starting-point for what I wish 
 to say. He writes among other things : 
 
 ''There is a report that Clara van Brunt 
 and her husband find it pretty difficult to 
 live in the same house. Well, it's the old 
 story that we all know by heart." 
 
 That short paragraph will furnish a 
 half-hour's meditation of a very serious 
 problem. I will tell you the story — a 
 rather pathetic one, by the way — and you 
 will see one of the queerest puzzles of life. 
 
 Van Brunt was an old schoolmate of 
 mine. In those days the ferule and the 
 rattan were in vogue, and that queer say- 
 
218 BliOWX STUDIES. 
 
 ing about sparing the rod and spoiling 
 the child was received as an injunction 
 not to be disobeyed. The head-master, 
 Big Field, as we used to call him, took 
 especial delight in the rattan. It always 
 lay on his desk within easy reach, and 
 three or four times a day he would api)ly 
 it with such vigor that the jDOor victim's 
 hand was sure to have a couple of blisters 
 on it. 
 
 Bradford van Brunt got his full share 
 of punishment. And richly he deserved 
 it, for he was everlastingly getting some 
 boy into a scrape and trying to sneak 
 out of the responsibility for it. He was 
 a cowardly, self-willed fellow, with no 
 sense of honor whatever. 
 
 Well do I remember one episode, for 
 I had a very narrow escape. Bradford 
 had put a bent pin in the master's chair 
 — a grave offense, but in those days con- 
 sidered a very good joke. Big Field 
 flushed in the face, nervously grasped his 
 
 I 
 
WHY DO WE MARRY? 219 
 
 ferule, and looked as tlioiigli lie would 
 like to thrash the whole school. He fixed 
 his eyes on me, for it was impossible to 
 control my risibles, and without doul)t I 
 had the appearance of a culprit. 
 
 When the session was nearly over Field 
 beckoned to me, and when I stood in front 
 of his desk his glance was withering*. He 
 remarked : " Clarence, I want to see yon 
 after the school has been dismissed.'^ 
 
 When the boys bundled out of the room 
 he lifted his awful forefinger and I knew 
 that my doom was sealed. Still I was 
 full of spirit, and though frightened out 
 of my wits, I determined not to be whipped 
 for nothing. 
 
 " Hold out your hand, sir ! '' 
 
 I hesitated, and rather think the tears 
 came to my eyes. 
 
 "What have I done, sir?" I said, dog- 
 gedly. 
 
 " Hold out your hand ! " 
 
 "But, Mr. Field, what have I done?" 
 
220 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 I rather admire myself for having been 
 so pliick3\ 
 
 He pointed to the pin, which lay on his 
 desk. 
 
 '' I didn't put it in your chair, sir.'" 
 
 He gave me a piercing look, but I didn't 
 flinch. 
 
 " Are you sure ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, sir." 
 
 "You know who did it?" 
 
 I hesitated. 
 
 "You know who did it?" and the rat- 
 tan began to sing through the air. 
 
 " Yes, sir," I answered, but very feebly. 
 
 " Name the boy ! " 
 
 " I'd rather not, Mr. Field." 
 
 " Name the boy or hold out your hand." 
 
 It was a frightful moment ; but I was not 
 brought up to tell tales, and so, putting 
 my teeth together, I held out my hand. 
 
 "You refuse to give me the desired in- 
 formation ? " 
 
 " I can't do it, sir ; it wouldn't be hon- 
 
WHY DO WE MABBY? 221 
 
 orable. I'd rather take the thrashing, 
 Mr. Field." 
 
 Then he laid the rattan down on the 
 chair, threw the pin into the waste-basket, 
 and growled, '' Go home, sir." 
 
 When Bradford was twenty-six he got 
 into bad habits. His father was a heavy 
 drinker, and the boy came by his love of 
 liqnor by inheritance. 
 
 He could not help drinking. I have no 
 doubt he tried to resist temptation ; but 
 it was too strong for him. He never 
 reeled, however. He could drink brandy 
 without feeling its effects. I never saw 
 him when he was not able to walk a crack 
 with perfect steadiness. Still the most 
 casual observer could see that the quan- 
 tities he imbibed were telling on him, and 
 that he would end a wretched sot. 
 
 Clara was simply fascinated, for Brad- 
 ford was bright and witty, and most ex- 
 cellent at repartee. In a little dinner 
 
222 BBOJVX STUDIES. 
 
 company he very easily led them all, for 
 he could teU the funniest stories in the 
 funniest way, and was withal a superb 
 mimic. 
 
 So Clara fell in love with him, and 
 when remonstrated with declared her 
 ability to reform him. They were mar- 
 ried with pomp and ceremon}^ 
 
 Do not marry a man with the hope of 
 reforming him. It is the most hopeless 
 task ever undertaken by a woman. I 
 have seen the experiment tried on two or 
 three occasions, but never Avitli success. 
 If a man will not reform himself during 
 an engagement there is no power under 
 heaven that will change him after his 
 marriage. 
 
 Clara was an exceptional gM, with 
 great qualities of character, but wholly 
 unconscious of them. She was beautiful, 
 fond of " merriment, light-hearted as a 
 
WHY DO WE MARRY? 223 
 
 fawn, but with a capacity for affection of 
 the deepest kind if the right man could 
 find her. If she had married a statesman 
 she would have had a salon and been a 
 leader in society. She had had a dozen 
 offers, but did not care to surrender her 
 liberty. Pier weak point was a very ten- 
 der heart, of the kind which too keenly 
 appreciates the suffering of the man who 
 swears to commit suicide if she rejects 
 him, but who six months later bends the 
 ^^ pregnant hinges of the knee" to some 
 other beaut}^ 
 
 Bradford was coarse and Clara was 
 pure ; he was a trombone and she a Cre- 
 mona violin. He could give her fine 
 dresses and a costly equipage, and was 
 proud of her beauty; but long, long ago 
 I saw a kind of repulsion on her part to- 
 ward him that was ominous, and knew 
 only too well that he and she would both 
 have been happier if they had each mated 
 with one of his own kind. 
 
224 mWU'X STUDIES, 
 
 As 1 reviewed tliese facts tliis question 
 arose in my mind : What is it the duty of 
 that woman to do ? Does the welfare of 
 society demand that she shall remain a 
 suppressed being, her finer and nobler 
 nature kept in a dormant condition, her 
 possibilities for affection, her intellect, and 
 her superb spiritual qualities held in abey- 
 ance for a lifetime because j)ublic opinion 
 has decreed that it must be so ? Will the 
 world be any better for her sacrifice of 
 herself? Does religion demand that she 
 shall be the slave of the man who has a 
 legal right to her person, or would it be 
 better for us all if in such cases provision 
 were made for the rectification of early 
 errors ? 
 
 Do you ask what I mean by the m3"s- 
 terious word "provision"? And do you 
 intimate that I am trying to evade the 
 consequences of speaking frankly by ask- 
 ing you to answer the question? Then 
 you do me slender justice. 
 
WHY DO WE MABEYf 225 
 
 What I mean^ tlien, is this : that so- 
 ciety ought not to force two people to live 
 together when they have discovered that 
 their marriage is a personal injury to the 
 character of either party. 
 
 The world would show better results if 
 our laws, our customs, Avere such that a 
 vv'oman could say, in such cases as this, 
 " I am being robbed, and I mean to leave 
 tlie robber. I no longer cherish the love 
 of other years, because I have waked 
 up to the fact that he is not wortli}^ 
 of it." 
 
 You tell me — I have been told this a 
 thousand times — that the welfare of so- 
 ciety as a wliole demands that when a 
 woman has made a mistake she must not 
 try to rectify it, but must pretend that 
 she is happy when she is not ; must swear 
 that her husband is all that could be de- 
 sired when she knoAvs that he has nothing 
 that she desires; and must, in a w^ord, 
 iDecome a pretender, and issue falsehood 
 
226 JBMOWX STUDIES. 
 
 after falsehood with smiling lips while 
 her heart is breaking. 
 
 Pray tell me — for I wish to be logical 
 in drawing my conclnsions — what is the 
 j)rime object of marriage? Mind, I say 
 emphatically the 2^^^^^^^^ object. Consid- 
 ering the fact that we are immortal beings, 
 and that the greatest end to be achieved 
 is character, and nothing bnt character, 
 why has God ordained marriage ? 
 
 Is it for the perpetnation of the race 
 simply? Is it that there may be more 
 men and women to suffer as we are suf- 
 fering, and to bear the burdens that we 
 are bearing ? 
 
 The perpetuation of the race, in my 
 judgment, is a mere side issue. At best 
 it is only an incident in connection with 
 marriage. At any rate, if it is its prime 
 purpose, then the majority is strangely 
 derelict in duty, and mankind is to a great 
 extent a failure. 
 
 Large families are the exception, not 
 
WHY no WE MARRY? 227 
 
 the rule, the wide globe over. Especially 
 is this true in all great aggregations of 
 the people, as in the thickly settled parts 
 of a country. 
 
 In a state of society which is hone}^- 
 combed b}^ competition, both in labor and 
 in business, the matter of income is an 
 important factor of domestic happiness. 
 A large family means inevitable poverty 
 and consequent misery. I can conceive 
 of no greater misfortune than for an or- 
 dinary wage-earner, who is already har- 
 assed by the difficulty of providing rent 
 and food and clothing, to become the 
 father of ten or a dozen children. Pov- 
 erty such as we have never dreamed of 
 would prevail, and with poverty would 
 come a startling increase in temptation 
 and crime. 
 
 It seems very queer, therefore, that God 
 should wish us to enlarge our households 
 indefinitely, while Ave make it a sj^ecial 
 task to limit them to a small number. 
 
228 BllOWX STUDIES. 
 
 Either the Creator has made a mistake in 
 issuing snch a decree, or the present order 
 of things is so twisted that we cannot 
 obey mthout bringing npon om-selves 
 immeasui'able disaster. In other words, 
 to obey God in this regard is to invite 
 the ruin of your happiness and make a 
 galley-slave of j^ourself, while to disobey 
 him is to give yoiu-self a fair chance. 
 
 I beg you not to regard me as a theo- 
 rist, a di-eamer, a fanatic, for I pride my- 
 self on being a thoroughly practical man. 
 I have, hoAvever, strong opinions on this 
 subject, and they are the result of \qyj 
 careful observation. 
 
 I have heard on good authority of a 
 French-Canadian who reared a family of 
 twenty-six children, and of another to 
 whom were born \yy the same mother 
 either thirty-one or thirty-two children, I 
 forget which. Moreover, I learn that in 
 the province of Quebec the priests are 
 apt to tell their people that they can do 
 
WHY DO WE MAURY? 229 
 
 no better service to God than to increase 
 and inultifjly the number of their off- 
 spring. 
 
 Well and good. I have nothing- to say. 
 If paternal and maternal affection can 
 care for snch a brood as that, may a 
 kind Providence gratify them with a 
 phenomenal family. 
 
 But, from an economic standpoint, is it 
 possible for one man and one woman not 
 in affluent circumstances to do justice to 
 the bodies of such an army-corps of cliil- 
 dren ? Must there not be deprivation and 
 neglect as an inevitable consequence ? Is 
 any living man so constituted that he can 
 faithfully perform his duty to twenty- 
 four human beings? Is it not a kind of 
 sarcasm for him to undertake such a 
 task! Is affection so elastic that it can 
 cover two dozen beds and cribs and 
 cradles in such way that each child shall 
 receive the attention whicli is necessary 
 to proper development ? 
 
230 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 Possibly 7 but if so I confess to being 
 greatly puzzled. 
 
 Viewed from a spiritual and educational 
 standpoint the difficulties increase in ap- 
 palling fashion. Every new-comer brings 
 his own temperament with him, and that 
 temperament is a very important factor 
 in the problem of his welfare. Apply the 
 same rule to tw^enty-four children, and 
 the chances are that you will ruin them 
 aU. You cannot strike an average of 
 discipline. The pecuharity of a well- 
 brought-up family is that the mother 
 knows each child's weak and strong- 
 points, and applies herself to each one's 
 idios3mcrasies. If this is not done you 
 may have a crowd, a mob, but you have 
 no family life. 
 
 To declare that God wishes you to in- 
 crease and multiply without reference to 
 proper educational influences is an asser- 
 tion which does not commend itself to 
 my judgment. 
 
WHY DO WE MABEY? 231 
 
 Allow me to say, furtlier, tliat tlie birtli 
 of a cliild is frequently a sanctifying and 
 harmonizing influence. Tliere is an im- 
 pressiveness about the chamber in which 
 an immortal soid is making its first ap- 
 pearance in the world which affects the 
 most rugged natures, and softens and 
 enriches the most reckless heart. There 
 is a mystery about it which ennobles, and 
 a responsibility connected witli it which 
 widens a man's outlook and tends to a 
 loftier purpose in life. Only the brute 
 can be indifferent on an occasion when 
 the just-arrived angel is given into his 
 keeping. That cry, heard in the stillness 
 of the night, makes him tremble with 
 excitement, and if there are in him any 
 superior qualities they come to the sur- 
 face at once. 
 
 Besides, a cldld is frequently the very 
 balm of Gilead to heal the wounds of 
 estrangement. The man and wife may 
 have grown apart from each other, but 
 
232 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 when the little one arrives the two be- 
 come one again at the side of the cradle. 
 That ^' third party " has a wonderfully at- 
 tractive power, and they who have been 
 back to back turn toward him and find 
 themselves once more face to face. 
 
 I have no doubt that there are mar- 
 riages which are complete without chil- 
 dren. They are not longed for, because 
 the man and w^oman supplement .each 
 other perfectly. The}'' are not necessary 
 to the home, because the husband finds 
 in his wife more than enough to satisfy 
 every desire, and the wife finds in the 
 husband all she has ever prayed for. 
 
 But such cases are remarkable excep- 
 tions, and it requires very nnich more 
 than the ordinary amount of love — at 
 least one hundred jier cent, more — to make 
 a happy household without a -crib in it. 
 As a general rule — and pity 'tis 'tis true 
 — marriage is a novelty, and like all other 
 
11 EY DO WE MABRYf 233 
 
 noveltieSj it wears itself out after a few 
 years, and becomes somewhat tame and 
 insipid. The sparkle, the effervescence of 
 love is lost. Then children awaken a new 
 interest in the household, and a new bond 
 of union is formed. The love of father 
 and mother for each other is revived by 
 their common love for the little ones, and a 
 sweet and hallowing influence grinds away 
 the hai'sh corners in the father's heart, and 
 perhaps does the same for the mother. I 
 can not help thinking that the prattle of 
 childhood is one of the compensations for 
 the disappointments of married life, and 
 that many a husband and wife are kept 
 together by it ^vho would otherwise be 
 drawn farther and farther apart. 
 
 But I feel impelled to say one thing 
 more. I firmly believe that it is a crimi- 
 nal offense against God and against so- 
 ciety for some married people to have anj 
 children at all. There is, to be sure, no 
 
234 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 law Oil our statute-books which takes 
 cognizance of that crime, but there ought 
 to be, and in the future, when we see 
 these things more clearly, there will be. 
 
 If YOU could repeal the laws of hered- 
 ity, then I should have nothing to say; 
 but while those law^s are in force, and the 
 fatal and known weaknesses of the parent 
 are siu-e to be transmitted to the cliildren, 
 it is a base and cruel act to bring children 
 into the world. 
 
 Take the case of the Van Brunt family. 
 Bradford — why mince words when we are 
 speaking on so serious a subject f — Brad- 
 ford is a confirmed drunkard. He got 
 his love of whisky from his father just as 
 he got his two hundred thousand dollars 
 — by inheritance. The old man was 
 brought home one night in a beastly con- 
 dition, was struck with apoplexy at two 
 in the morning, and I attended his funeral 
 three days later. Bradford is simply 
 carrying out the logic of the situation. 
 
WHY no WE MABRYf 235 
 
 111 bringing children into tlie world lie 
 has simply added to the misery of the 
 world. Those children will marry, and 
 tlie chances are that this inherited weak- 
 ness will sooner or later make itself mani- 
 fest. 
 
 I say, therefore, that Bradford had no 
 right to ask ajiy one's daughter to take 
 the risk of living witli him as his wife, 
 and that no cradle ought ever to liave 
 been brought into that liouse. 
 
 I do not believe that to bear children is 
 the chief mission of woman, or that the 
 perpetuation of the race has anything 
 more than the slenderest relation to mar- 
 riage. 
 
 There is a far higher purpose to be 
 subserved by marriage than this. 
 
 Let me see if I cannot so plead my case 
 as to convince you. A man and a woman^ 
 for example, love each other, and this 
 love is the mas^ician whose business it is 
 
236 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 to weld tlieir souls, not their bodies — for 
 true love lias little to do with flesh and 
 blood — and make them one. 
 
 What the sun is to our solar system, 
 that, and nothing less, love is to a human 
 being who has brains enough to appreci- 
 ate it. 
 
 Love, of the kind I refer to, leads in- 
 evitably to marriage. The two can no 
 more be kept apart than bits of magne- 
 tized iron. 
 
 After marriage comes a home : the asy- 
 lum of the tii-ed and harassed, the place 
 of peace and contentment when the day 
 is done in which j^ou have been chased by 
 a whole pack of hounds — cares, anxieties, 
 responsibilities, disappointments. 
 
 The mfe is the husband's evangel. No 
 other woman can serve him as well, be- 
 cause he loves no other woman. She is 
 his comforter, and by the hearthstone 
 which is blessed with her presence he is 
 renewed in soul. She is his physician, 
 and the medicament which she furnishes 
 
WHY DO WE MARRY f 237 
 
 with oiitstretclied arms and a kiss gives 
 him a better hold on life. She is his 
 priestess, and with the delightful entice- 
 ments of a holy nature she makes him 
 hopeful and faithful and noble. 
 
 The husband is the woman's Sir Knight, 
 who every evening conies home from the 
 wars, lays aside his helmet and coat of 
 mail, Jiangs his sword behind the door, 
 and tells her with proud lips of his vic- 
 .tor}^, or with trembling lips confesses his 
 defeat. He has no secrets from her. She 
 can look into his eyes and see his soul. 
 His is the strong right arm on which she 
 leans, and she proudh^ recognizes his 
 courage and valor. If she is tried by 
 domestic embarrassments, or if she is 
 worn in body or depressed in mind, he 
 holds her to his heart, and a miracle is 
 the result ; for she smiles once more, the 
 prospect has lost its dreariness, and she 
 becomes as young and fresh and bright 
 as she was in the old days. 
 
 That is true marriage ; that is the only 
 
238 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 relation that can be dignified by tlie name 
 of marriage, and all otlier kinds are 
 ^' leather and prunella." 
 
 In sucli a marriage there is constant 
 development. The man who has the ideal 
 wife becomes more manl}^; the woman 
 Avho has an ideal husband becomes more 
 womanly. Their experiences are an edu- 
 cation for both. Four hands work to- 
 gether as though there were only two. 
 Neither is superior to the other, for the 
 one is like the long sword of King Rich- 
 ard, with which he cut a bar of iron, and 
 the other is like the scimitar of Saladin, 
 with which he cleft a floating veil in twain. 
 Being so different, they cannot be com- 
 pared, for the work of l^oth is necessary, 
 and neither could do what the other does 
 easily. Superiority and inferiority are 
 small questions to such a couple, and are 
 never discussed, for he is all to her and 
 she is all to him. 
 
 The moment you introduce the physical 
 
WHY DO WE MABRYf 239 
 
 element into sncli a relation yon debase 
 it. The marriage of sncli a conple lias no 
 fonndation of passion — tliongii passion 
 may be incidental to it — and tlieir love is 
 not in the slightest degree dependent on 
 their bodies. That love is of such rare 
 and perfect quality that if they had no 
 bodies, if such a thing as passion were an 
 impossibilit}^, it would be as pure and 
 true as ever. When death comes, and 
 their bodies are placed under the sod, 
 they will find each other in the higher 
 world, and continue their companionship 
 without any sense of loss from the absence 
 of material and fleshly desires. Theirs is 
 a marriage of soul, and the relation can 
 be continued in heaven and throughout 
 eternity. 
 
 Now let me come back to the question, 
 What is it the duty of Clara van Brunt 
 to do ? What should an enlightened pub- 
 lic opinion demand that she shall do? 
 
240 BliOWX STUDIES. 
 
 The Bradford van Brunt of to-day is not 
 the man she married twelve years ago, 
 for he has changed in some important 
 particulars. If she should meet him for 
 the first tune now, and he should attempt 
 to pay court to her, she would treat him 
 with something more effective than in- 
 difference. 
 
 Dimng these twelve years he has grown 
 to be less and less of a man and she has 
 become more and more of a woman. His 
 influence over her, so far as he has any 
 at all, is one of suppression. Her influ- 
 ence over him is just nothing at all. 
 They are strangers to each other, and yet 
 the law allows him to claim privileges 
 which she would sooner take a deadly 
 poison than grant. 
 
 Ought she to surrender her right to 
 be the w^oman God intended her to be ; 
 should she practically defeat the purposes 
 of Providence, and remain dwarfed, an 
 arrested development, because she hap- 
 
TVHY DO WE MARRY? 241 
 
 pens to have made a mistake in her girl- 
 hood and married the wrong man ? 
 
 I confess I think not. If society can not 
 get on without such sacrifices as that, if 
 what we call moral progress is interfered 
 with because a woman wants to set her- 
 self right after having taken a misstep, 
 then moral progress is neither progress 
 nor moral. 
 
 I do not wish to be too radical, but 
 above all things I demand for €very one, 
 man and woman alike, the divine right 
 to escape from misery and to lay hold on 
 happiness if it is possible to do so, and I 
 think the world is moved by wrong prin- 
 ciples if it puts its iron hand on man or 
 woman to f orl:>id the exercise of that right. 
 
 Clara and Bradford are not married 
 except in a legal sense, and that law is a 
 piece of stupid folly which compels her 
 to be — for that is what it amounts to — 
 compels her to be the mistress of a man 
 whom she does not love and cannot love. 
 
242 BBOWN STUDIES. 
 
 The sacrifice called for is too fearful 
 to contemplate, and I am firmly of the 
 opinion that true morality is more im- 
 peded by their remaining together than 
 it could be by their drawing apart and 
 seeking each his own happiness and de- 
 velopment in a different environment. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 WAS IT A VISION 
 
 How time slips away ! I sometimes 
 feel that life is a good deal like a tobog- 
 gan-slide, where you begin your journey 
 at an almost hesitating pace, but, gather- 
 ing momentum with every rod, at last 
 rush on with incredible speed, until the 
 exhausted impulse gradually gives way, 
 and you go slower and slower, until at 
 last you come to a standstill. 
 
 I spent a few weeks in Montreal last 
 winter, and enjoyed the sport amazingly. 
 My friends were enthusiasts and all young. 
 They insisted that I was no older than 
 Madge, who had just turned twenty, and 
 managed to imbue me with the idea that 
 243 
 
244 BROU'X STUDIES. 
 
 the family Bible in wliieli the year of my 
 birth is noted reported the event ineor- 
 recth\ They persuaded me that I had 
 just left college the summer before ; that 
 my being in business for twenty years 
 was all an illusion. So I put on my 
 ^Yi'aps and in due time took my place on 
 the toboggan. 
 
 For a single brief moment I felt that I 
 had saddled a comet and w^as careering 
 through space with destruction close at 
 hand; but when I got through the first 
 experience with no danger to life or limb 
 I entered into the spirit of the pastime, 
 and w^as loath to give it up even for a 
 good dinner. 
 
 Well, that toboggan-slide is a perfect 
 symbol of our human life. In our child- 
 hood w^e think the days will never pass, 
 and the space between Wednesday after- 
 noon and the Saturday holiday is like a 
 very considerable section of eternity. The 
 hours drag themselves along with the 
 
WAS IT A riSIOXf 245 
 
 quiet deliberation of an ox-team on a 
 country road. But later on, when we 
 take our first dash into the business of 
 life, they quicken their pace, and after w^e 
 get past middle age they hasten with such 
 breathless fury and such impetuous im- 
 patience that we are reminded of an ex- 
 press-train which throws the miles behind 
 it so rapidly that the telegraph-poles make 
 a sort of picket-fence on the side of the 
 road. Then at sixty-five or se^^enty we 
 begin to slow up, our vital energy dissi- 
 pates itself, the wheels no longer turn 
 with the joyful hum of earlier times, and 
 after a little some friend comes to our 
 bedside and remarks in a whisper that 
 the train has stopped altogether. 
 
 Is it possible that, like the tobogganer, 
 we can climb through death up the hill 
 again, and take another slide, on another 
 toboggan, down the slope of another life ? 
 Or, having taken one slide, got used to 
 sport, and enjoyed it so much that we 
 
246 BEOWX STUDIES. 
 
 long for one more trip, for many more 
 trips of the same kind, are we to be told 
 that one tremulous, terrif^dng, but excit- 
 ing slide is all there is to it, and that 
 when it is over we must stow the tobog- 
 gan in one corner and be ready for death 
 to stow us away in another corner? If 
 the young folks of Montreal can take a 
 second slide down the icy hill why should 
 I not hope to take a second slide down 
 the slope of eternity ? 
 
 But excuse this digression. I was 
 brought to the mood which has forced 
 me to ssij these things by something that 
 occurred last night. If what I heard can 
 be trusted, this second toboggan-slide for 
 which we are all looking will be accorded 
 to us, and that thought has made me very 
 cheerful all day. I looked into the face 
 of Leo during my brown study, and as 
 the dear fellow put his paws on my 
 shoulders and affectionately snapped at 
 my whiskers, he seemed to say, " My mas- 
 
WAS IT A riSIOX? 247 
 
 ter, will yon go on that second toboggan- 
 slide down the eternal liill witliont me? 
 I am only a dog, bnt I am loyal, and i3er- 
 haps you would miss me in tliat other 
 life." Then I answered, " Leo, you faith- 
 ful friend, where I go you shall go too. 
 If there is immortality for me there must 
 be something of the kind for you also." 
 
 Now then for the dream I had last 
 night. I call it a dream for want of a 
 more appropriate name, but was it only 
 that? 
 
 I wish I were a magician, that I might 
 bring to the camp some savant who knows 
 all about the nervous system and the 
 occult forces which dwell in our brain- 
 cells. I am so mystified by what occurred 
 that I have been wondering if some silent 
 physical revolution has been going on 
 within which reached its culmination yes- 
 terday. Perhaps this savant could tell 
 me, and explain the puzzle on well-known 
 principles. 
 
248 BBOWN STUDIES. 
 
 I have never had an experience of the 
 kind iDefore, or anything like it. Surely 
 I am not so old that I have become child- 
 ish. My pulse is strong, my digestion is 
 good, my general health is better than it 
 has been since my boyhood, and yet I am 
 dazed, bewildered, and utterly confused. 
 
 Well, if it was not a dream, could it 
 have been a vision? I have heard of 
 such things, but must confess 1 never 
 had much faith in them. Besides, it has 
 always been my impression that only 
 people in an abnormal state, people who 
 are more or less hysterical, whose ima- 
 ginations easily run away with them, see 
 these strange sights. Of course I have 
 read something — I suppose every man 
 has, for that matter — about psychology 
 and hypnotism, but I have looked upon 
 them as a kind of fad, without any 
 scientific basis. I hurried through some 
 strange stories in the rsycliical Review 
 last summer, but somehow I c^ot the no- 
 
WAS IT A risioxr 249 
 
 tion tliat I was reading fables or distorted 
 and exaggerated facts. 
 
 What sliall I say now f Am I to take 
 my place also in tlie list of unbalanced 
 creatures? Or can it be true — but that 
 is impossible. 
 
 Let me thiidv again, and ask, Wliy is it 
 impossible? or still another question, 
 namely, Is anything impossible? or a 
 third question. Is a thing impossible be- 
 cause it lies outside of the range of our 
 usual experience ? 
 
 Do you believe, does any one whose 
 mental apparatus is in good order be- 
 lieve, that under any conditions whatever 
 a man can see what is happening a thou- 
 sand miles away? And if lie thinks he 
 sees these occurrences is it because his 
 mind is stimulated in some occult way, or 
 is it that he is made up of two different 
 materials, a body and a soul, and that 
 while the body is confined to a given 
 space the soul may open the door and 
 
250 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 take flight to distant localities, stay as 
 long as it pleases, and tlien come liome 
 again, go tlirougli tlie same door, and 
 occnpy its old place ? 
 
 What am I talking abont? I confess 
 to being snrprised at myself. I am as- 
 tonished that I, bronght np, as I was, in 
 the strictest faith of the chnrch, can even 
 allow myself to entertain snch ideas. 
 And yet what am I to do ? There is my 
 vision, or dream, or whatever you please 
 to call it, and I mnst acconnt for it. 
 
 If this cannot be done on the piinciples 
 in which I was educated I must hunt 
 round and- find if there are not other 
 principles in the world which have here- 
 tofore escaped my notice, and which will 
 solve ni}^ problem. 
 
 If I could deny the facts, if my memory 
 were blurred, or if I had overheated or 
 overworked myself, and so taxed my 
 nerves beyond the point of healthy strain, 
 I would instantly brush everything aside 
 
TT^^^ IT A VISION f 251 
 
 as an iUusion, and so end the contro- 
 versy. 
 
 But I am bonnd to be fair to myself, 
 and will not dispose of tliis matter by 
 strategy, or allow my prejndices to over- 
 whelm it. I shall meet it sqiiarely, and 
 if by and by I discover that what was re- 
 vealed is trne I AviU readily admit a good 
 many things which now I brnsquely deny. 
 
 Lot me tell my story in my own way, 
 and, if I seem to be somewhat excited, 
 yon may still assnre yonrself that I shall 
 tell the exact trnth as I understand it. 
 
 John came into my room soon after 
 snpper with a tremendous armful of 
 
 woodo 
 
 "They are hickory logs, every one of 
 
 'em," he said. 
 
 " And I'm in just the mood for a big 
 
 blaze." 
 
 "Well, sir, I gness this stuff will sat- 
 isfy you.' I hadn't much to do this morn- 
 
252 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 ing except to clean my gun and help Sim 
 witli the chores ; so I picked out the best 
 sticks in the pile, and there they are. 
 You won't need no lamp, sir, for \ylien 
 this wood gets goin' it'll fill the room 
 like sunlight." 
 
 Three good-sized logs of dry pitch-piue 
 foi- a foundation, four pieces of hickory 
 as large around as ycmr thigh on top, and 
 Ave had the prophecy of as fine a blaze as 
 you ever gazed at. 
 
 There was something merry and musi- 
 cal in the crackling flames, as though a 
 regiment were firing by . platoons. I 
 could not sit still, but walked back and 
 forth in front of the huge fireplace with 
 tlie most delightful feeling of repose and 
 contentment in iny heart. I was sorry 
 that the season was drawing to its close, 
 and the time approaching which I had 
 fixed for my departure. I have had such 
 an enjoyable winter, full of pleasant 
 
WAS IT A VISION f 253 
 
 thoughts and varied reminiscences ! The 
 loneliness of the first few days passed 
 away, and I have not since missed the 
 familiar faces of my friends in New York. 
 The solitude has charmed me, and I have 
 fallen in love with it. My life has been 
 simple, agreeable, and in every way prof- 
 itable. 
 
 '' Tell me, Leo, haven't we had a plea- 
 sant time together? And we haven't 
 longed once for the hubbub and hurry of 
 other days, have we, sir f " 
 
 He said nothing, but shook his head 
 very wisely, and wagged his tail, as though 
 he were uttering a series of aniens. 
 
 After half an hour I sat down in my 
 easy-chair, for the spirit of reverie had 
 crept over me. In imagination I saw 
 fantastic figures above the burning logs. 
 As one sees faces and figures in the 
 clouds, so I saw figures and faces in the 
 flames. They danced for a brief moment 
 
254 
 
 BliOWX STUDIES. 
 
 in mad glee, and tlien disappeared up 
 the cliimney, to be followed, however, by 
 others still more fantastical. 
 
 Yes, I mnst have been in a strange 
 state of mind, and cannot recall anything 
 like it in my past experience. 
 
 While sitting with my right hand rest- 
 ing on the arm of the chair I seemed to 
 step out of my body, and stand beside it, 
 looking upon it with mingled curiosity 
 and astonishment. I felt as light as air, 
 and said to m^-self, ''This must be what 
 St. Paul calls the spiritual body." It is 
 true that I looked on what sat in the chaii* 
 with a kind of tenderness, but the sense 
 of freedom which I soon became conscious 
 of was almost ecstatic, and it seemed as 
 though I would not go back into those 
 narrow quarters again for worlds. The 
 body was so clumsy, so heavy, so un- 
 comely, so uncouth and ungraceful, while 
 this other body, on the contrary, was a 
 delight, a dream, a poem. 
 
WAS IT A VISION f 255 
 
 Then something happened which per- 
 haps yon may explain ; bnt I confess that 
 it pnzzled me at the time and has con- 
 tinned to puzzle me ever since. I moved 
 away from my body toward the door, 
 thinking to open it and go ont into the 
 starlight ; bnt to my surprise I found that 
 the door was no obstruction whatever. 
 I simply passed through it as the sun's 
 rays pass through a pane of glass. When 
 I stood in front of the camp I knew that 
 a cold wind was blowing, and that it 
 came from the snow-banks far away to 
 the north of us 5 but I was not chilled. I 
 could feel its impact and hear it whisthng 
 through the forest, bnt was not affected 
 by it in the least degree. 
 
 I shall never be able to tell you how 
 the stars looked that night. The heavens 
 were an astonishing revelation to me. 
 Not only did I see with perfectly clear 
 vision, but there seemed to be a penetrat- 
 ing, a far-reaching quality to my sight 
 
256 BROWX STUDIES. 
 
 which doubled the number of glistening 
 lights above me, and the spectacle was so 
 marvelous, so beautiful, that I stood en- 
 tranced. 
 
 I have heard of a boy who was born 
 near-sighted, and to whom all nature ap- 
 peared to be dim and blurred. He had 
 never seen the trees and the lakes and 
 the mountains as we see them. Some 
 one fitted to his eyes one day a pair of 
 glasses, and then bade him look. He 
 was wonderstruck, awestruck, for a new 
 world opened to him. He could see the 
 changing shadows of the woods, the far- 
 away ripple on the lake, the boiling stream- 
 let tumbling from rock to rock a half- 
 mile away; and after a few minutes of 
 ecstasy he burst into tears. 
 
 In the same way, and from the same 
 cause, was I also overwhelmed. I was in 
 closer relations T\dth nature than ever be- 
 fore. I actually trembled with immea- 
 surable delight, and a wonderful feeling 
 
WA^ IT A FUSION? 257 
 
 of reverence crept through my whole 
 being. I said to myseK, '' When my eyes 
 get used to this new Hglit I shall see the 
 angels, for I can hear the rustling of 
 their wings, and I know they are not far 
 away." 
 
 Then I stepped back into the room to 
 get another glimpse of the bod}^ It was 
 still in the chair, and I noticed that the 
 breast rose and fell at regular intervals. 
 '' It is not dead," I said, " only in some 
 mj^sterions way I haA^e stepped out of it. 
 I shall have to retnrn to it by and by," 
 and at that thought I shuddered. It 
 seemed such an undesirable home to live 
 in that I almost hoped the heart wonld 
 cease to beat, that I might be forever free 
 to go where I pleased. 
 
 While I stood there Leo awoke from a 
 long nap, stretched, yawned, and then 
 looked about the room. He approached 
 my body in the usual way, with a wag of 
 the tail, snuffed at my legs, and then ap- 
 
258 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 peared to be confused and disappointed. 
 Something was not as he expected to 
 find it, and I wondered at the time what 
 it could be. He then deliberately, but 
 it seemed to me rather disconsolately, 
 walked around the chair to the point from 
 which he started, and snuffed at my legs 
 a second time. Not satisfied, he sat on 
 his haunches for a full minute gazing 
 into the face, and I thought that perhaps 
 his confusion arose from the fact that the 
 eyes were closed and the body appeared to 
 be asleep. On ordinary occasions, when 
 he wished to wake me from a doze he put 
 his paws on my knees, and gave a quick, 
 sharp bark, as though to say, '^ Come, 
 master, rouse yourself." But this time 
 he must have concluded that a serious 
 mishap had occurred, for he exhibited 
 signs of terror, his tongue hung out of 
 his mouth, his eyes had an expression of 
 agony in them, and he uttered a pro- 
 longed but low and moui-nful howl. 
 
WJS IT A VISION f 259 
 
 Scarcely had it ended, however, when 
 he apparently caught sight of me stand- 
 ing by the door. With a single leap he 
 reached my side, but turned instantly, 
 took his place between me and the body, 
 looked first at one and then at the other, 
 and trembled in evident agony. 
 
 I have heard that animals can see spir- 
 its. How far the testimony supporting 
 such a statement can be trusted I am 
 unable to say, but in this instance I am 
 sure that Leo saw what was in the chair 
 and also what stood by the door. 
 
 My only hesitation lies in the fact that 
 I do not know whether all this is an hal- 
 lucination, and whether this most marvel- 
 ous experience is to be relied upon or not. 
 I can only declare that it appeared to be 
 real at the time, and that I have not been 
 able since then to make it appear other- 
 wise. 
 
 Just then the thought of my lost love, 
 lost to me forever, but still dear, came 
 
260 BBOWX ISTUVIES. 
 
 into my mind. The most intense desire 
 to see her seized me. It was a longing 
 so poignant, so sharp, that it was painful. 
 
 This ardor seemed to be an impelling 
 force, and I flew with incredible speed 
 through the darkness. The camp, the 
 lake, the mountains, were lost to view 
 almost instantly, while other mountains 
 and lakes came mthin range of my as- 
 tonished vision. What gave direction to 
 my flight I cannot tell, unless it was that 
 wonderful instinct which enables the 
 homing pigeon to fly back from a point, 
 however distant, without the possibility 
 of error. I had no doubt as to the route 
 I should take, but became so confused 
 while journeying that I hardly noticed 
 the landscape that lay far below me. 
 
 When I came to myself again I was 
 walking along a country road, on either 
 side of which were wild-flowers in rare 
 abundance. Only a few minutes before 
 I was in the midst of March cold, snow, 
 
 i 
 
WJS IT J VISION? 261 
 
 ice, and a dead vegetation, but now the 
 air was filled with fragrance; and I was 
 ahiiost oppressed by the perfume of 
 orange-blossoms. 
 
 Passing house after house, I began to 
 •wonder how I could discover where She 
 lived. My surprise was greatest, how- 
 ever, W'hen, as I came to a certain point 
 on the road, I stood still and foimd it im- 
 possible to proceed. Something held me 
 to the spot. 
 
 Then I looked up at the house. It was 
 ])eautifully situated, back some hundred 
 feet from the road, an old-fashioned house, 
 rather dilapidated, but surrounded l)y 
 trees of exquisite foliage. 
 
 In one window was a feeble light shin- 
 ing through the curtains, w^hich had been 
 carefully drawn. 
 
 Strange thoughts came to me as I stood 
 with one hand resting on the gate-post 
 covered with blossoming creepers. " She 
 is there," I said under my breath, '' and 
 
26i 
 
 BBOJJX STUDIES. 
 
 is suffering. Will she know me, will slie 
 even be able to see me? Can I do any- 
 thing to relieve her distress, can I help 
 her bear her great bnrden f " 
 
 There was no selfishness in my heart 
 at that moment. I did not think of the 
 disappointment which had l)roken my life, 
 nor of the love I still bore her. A pnre 
 emotion filled my whole being, sorrow for 
 her grief untinged with a single reference 
 to myself. It was a holy love, such as 
 the angels have for one another in heaven, 
 v,here there is neither marriage nor giv- 
 ing in marriage. 
 
 At length I summoned courage to enter. 
 I found my way up the stairs without 
 difficulty. Turning to the right, I noticed 
 that the chamber-door was ajar, and I 
 heard the irregular and painful breathing 
 of the sick man. 
 
 The next moment I was in the room. 
 Standing close by the mndow I was com- 
 paratively in shadow, for the candle on 
 
WAS IT A VISION? 263 
 
 the mantelpiece had in front of it a large 
 book to keep the light from falling on 
 the sleeper's face. This was a great re- 
 lief, because I looked upon myself as an 
 intruder. A sacredness hedges in a sick- 
 room which must needs be always re- 
 spected, and under ordinary circumstances 
 I should have felt no inclination to cross 
 that threshold. I confess, however, to a 
 certain curiosity which impelled me, since 
 I could not be observed, to note the sur- 
 roundings in which She had lived so 
 many years. 
 
 It was evident, at a glance, that the 
 household had need to practise a rigid 
 economy, but there was everywhere a 
 simplicity and refinement of taste. The 
 pictures on the walls were few, and their 
 frames were iu a worn condition, but the 
 engravings were of the best — old, to be 
 sure, and somewhat soiled by time, but 
 still quite worth hanging in any gentle- 
 man's house. On the table between the 
 
264 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 windows, and on another table at the foot 
 of the bed, were bunches of wild-flowers, 
 while in one corner was a small bookcase 
 containing a score or two of the classics 
 of English literature, with another score 
 of French and German novels. 
 
 Sitting at the bedside of the poor suf- 
 ferer, with her back toward me, was 
 Margaret ; and when I first caught sight 
 of that familiar form, now bent Avith sad 
 experiences, I had for an instant a strong 
 desire to get away, for memories of the 
 past rushed through my mind with such 
 impetuous fury that I could hardly con- 
 tain myself. 
 
 I cannot tell you how I was affected, 
 but I am certain that it was by a different 
 kind of feeling from what I should have 
 had if I had brought my body with me. 
 It is true that I suffered pain at sight of 
 her, but it was the kind of pain which a 
 spirit might suffer^ and there was nothing 
 physical or even earthly in it. 
 
WAS IT A nSIOyf 265 
 
 Soon the sleeper moved and woke. 
 Margaret bent over him, pnt her cool 
 hand on his hot forehead, and whispered 
 something w^hich I could not hear. 
 
 But I did hear what followed. 
 
 " Margaret/' and the voice was hollow 
 and feeble, " how late is it ? " 
 
 " Ten minutes after ten," in the low% 
 quiet, musical tones w^hich had so often 
 thrilled me. 
 
 " I think I'm going, Margaret." 
 
 She shook her head, and bade him try 
 to sleep once more. 
 
 " No," he replied, " my hour has come. 
 I am sure of it, Margaret." 
 
 Then came a moment of silence, broken 
 only by a sigh. 
 
 " You have been a good wdfe, dear one, 
 l)ut — "then he stopped and gave her a 
 searching gaze, as though he would read 
 her soul. 
 
 She smoothed his hand in a half-caress- 
 nig way. 
 
26B 
 
 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 He summoned strength to finish the 
 sentence: "But, Margaret, it was a mis- 
 take. It ought not to have been. I liave 
 always known it, dear, but had not the 
 courage to say it. Now I am near the 
 end, and I think I shall die easier if I tell 
 you this. 
 
 "It was a mistake," he whispered a 
 minute later, and with those words on his 
 lips he fell asleep. 
 
 I could stand it no longer. My whole 
 being throbbed, and I became uncontrol- 
 lably excited^ 
 
 A mistake ! How could I fail to know 
 what those words meant ? Did they not 
 refer to that weii-d and ghastly episode 
 when she was frenzied with baseless jeal- 
 ousy and gave her hand to Edward partly 
 in revenge and partly in desperation ? 
 
 A mistake ! She must have learned 
 when it was too late that there was no 
 cause for our estrangement, that it was 
 all the work of a mischievous creature, a 
 
WAS IT A VISION? 267 
 
 kind of human spider, who seemed to hate 
 every man and woman who loved each 
 other, and busied herself in exasperating 
 them. Of course Margaret knew that I 
 had never married, and perhaps recalled 
 the first line of that poem which I dedi- 
 cated to her : 
 
 " Only one face in all the Avoiid for me." 
 
 Overcome by my emotions, I strode 
 across the room, determined to declare 
 myself. I stood at the foot of the bed, 
 and called out, in tones which seemed as 
 loud as those of a church-bell, "Marga- 
 ret ! Margaret ! " 
 
 For an instant I thought she heard me, 
 for she raised her head as thougli in the 
 act of listening, but immediately after- 
 ward resumed her old 230sition and fixed 
 her eyes on the dying man. 
 
 I suffered tortures at the thought that 
 I was invisible and could not make her 
 reco2:nize me. I even went to her side 
 
268 BliOWy STUDIES. 
 
 and placed my hand on hers, hoping that 
 by contact she would feel me near. 
 
 Perhaps she did. At any rate, she 
 looked np, then rose from her chaii', went 
 to the other side of the room, and stood 
 there for thirty seconds looking at a little, 
 old, framed photograph on the wall. 
 
 I followed, and, peering over her shoul- 
 der, saw a picture of myself. 
 
 At that I knelt, took her hand in mine, 
 and reverently kissed it. But she took 
 no notice of the act, and soon went back 
 to her place by the sick man's side. 
 
 Just before twelve Edward roused once 
 more, and it was clear that the last mo- 
 ments had arrived. His breathing was 
 slow and short, and there was the expres- 
 sion in his eyes which only death can put 
 there. 
 
 He looked steadily at Margaret, drew 
 his poor, wan hand from under the cover- 
 lid, placed it in hers, and tried to say 
 something, but failed. 
 
WJS IT A VISION? 269 
 
 Then lie turned as though to take a 
 last look at the room, and while doing so 
 his eyes rested on me. A kind of sur- 
 prise kindled in them, and with all his 
 remaining strength he stretched both 
 hands in my direction, whispered hoarsely, 
 '' Clarence ! Clarence ! " and then fell back 
 in a kind of stupor. 
 
 I am sure he saw me. It could not 
 have been a coincidence. I cannot ex- 
 plain it, and will not attempt to, bat that 
 man's soul, half freed from his body, saw 
 my soul standing at the foot of the bed, 
 and, recognizing me, called me by name. 
 I have never had a doubt of that, and 
 never shall have. 
 
 I admit that it is incredible, but are 
 there not instances of a similar nature in 
 the history of nearly every family which 
 has made the acquaintance of death? 
 Who shall say that they do not mean 
 what they seem to mean ? 
 
 You may be enmeshed in skepticism, 
 
270 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 and summon a formidable arra}^ of argu- 
 ments against the immortal life ; but one 
 such experience as that seals your lips, 
 and debate becomes an impossibility. 
 There stands the fact, which you can no 
 more deny than you can deny any other 
 patent fact of your daily life. It is vivid, 
 startling, thrilling, but still it is a fact, 
 and no amount of thinking will brush it 
 aside witliout brushing aside at the same 
 time every other event which you have 
 always regarded as reality. 
 
 At the end of about ten minutes Ed- 
 ward slowly opened his eyes and gazed 
 about in a dazed sort of way, as one does 
 when he has been in a bright light and 
 then falls upon sudden darkness. At 
 length he seemed to gather himself to- 
 gether, making, as it was plain to me, a 
 mighty effort. 
 
 He whispered, " Paper and pencil." 
 Margaret, too, was bewildered, and for 
 a moment thought his mind was wander- 
 
WAS IT A VISION f 271 
 
 ing. But his voice grew more imperative, 
 and a second time lie cried, feebly : 
 
 " Paper and pencil ! Quick ! I have 
 no time to spare ! " 
 
 She brought him a pad and a pencil. 
 
 He wrote about two pages, I judged, 
 signed the note, and folded it. 
 
 I was curious to know the contents of 
 that letter, for the situation and the cir- 
 cumstances were rather remarkable ; but 
 though I was only a spirit, and apparently 
 invisible, it struck me that the incident 
 was not one for me to inquire into, and 
 so I maintained my position. 
 
 A moment later he said, ^' Margaret ! " 
 
 "Yes, dear." 
 
 " An envelope." 
 
 He placed the note in the envelope, 
 sealed it, wrote some one's name on it, 
 and handed it to his wife. 
 
 She read the superscription and heaved 
 a great sigh. 
 
 " In good time," said the dying man, 
 
BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 '' you will find Mm. It is your fate. De- 
 liver it to him personally." 
 
 She shook her head, as though the task 
 would be an unwelcome one, but he an- 
 swered her gesture by saying, " It is right. 
 I wish it." 
 
 With that he turned his head to one 
 side, breathed heavily for a few moments, 
 and then aU was still. 
 
 Margaret was alone mth her dead, or 
 at least thought she was. 
 
 She was not alone though, for I was 
 there with her. 
 
 I looked at the clock, and it was just 
 three minutes past twelve. 
 
 What happened immediately afterward 
 I do not remember. I onty recall in very 
 dim fashion that I had orders from some 
 source, though whence they came I can- 
 not say, to return at once to my camp. 
 I suppose I must have crawled back into 
 my body on my arrival, but have no rec- 
 ollection whatever of doing so. 
 
JFAS IT A VISION? 273 
 
 I only know that I was ronsed by John, 
 who put his hand on my shoulder in rather 
 rough fashion. 
 
 '^You were so sound asleep I could 
 hardly wake you, sir." 
 
 "Ah! is that you, John? I believe I 
 am a bit dazed." 
 
 "I called, sir, and you didn't answer. 
 Then I thought it best to wake you in 
 an}^ way I could, but had to shake ^-ou 
 with all my might." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; thank you, John. I never 
 slept so in my life before. Is it late f " 
 
 " Time for bed, sir." 
 
 "What is the hour?" 
 
 "Just three minutes and a half past 
 twelve, sir." 
 
 Had I really made the j our ney from Flor- 
 ida to the Adirondacks in thirty seconds ? 
 
 But I was in no frame of mind to think 
 the problem out, for I was confused and 
 perplexed, dazed and bewildered. 
 
 " Come, Leo, let's to bed." 
 
274 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 I ought to add to this chapter a very 
 remarkable verification of the ap^Darent 
 fact that in some way or other I was actu- 
 ally present and "witnessed that death-bed 
 scene a thousand miles distant from these 
 woods. 
 
 After I had retired on that eventful 
 night I was naturally unable to sleep. I 
 constantly said to myself, " It was an un- 
 usually vivid dream — nothing more; and 
 when you take your family physician into 
 your confidence he will explain it on purely 
 scientific grounds, and show you, first, that 
 the soul can never leave the body except 
 when it leaves it for good, and, second, 
 that this apparent journey over so great 
 a distance in so short a space of time is 
 not merely incredible, but impossible." 
 
 But though I argued with myself in 
 this way, and made a determined eifort 
 to drop asleep, I was not satisfied, and did 
 not become even drowsy. I tossed rest- 
 lessly, listening to the measured tick of 
 the clock, wondering if I had gone mad. 
 
WAS IT A VISIONf 275 
 
 The clock struck one, but I was wider 
 awake than ever. I could hear the labored 
 breathing of the two guides in the next 
 room, and the suppressed growl or inoan 
 of the dog, who was perha]3s chasing some 
 imaginary game, and these drove me wild. 
 
 Then the clock struck two. I sat up 
 in bed and watched the flickering flames 
 in the fireplace. They shot across the 
 dark room in a ghastly way, and painted 
 fantastic figures on the opposite wall. 
 The air seemed too heavy to breathe, and 
 through sheer nervousness I found myself 
 gasping. My heart went like a trip-ham- 
 mer, and my head was hot. 
 
 I could have sworn that there were in 
 that room invisible beings, for I felt them, 
 and their presence oppressed me beyond 
 the power of words to describe. 
 
 At last, and just as that demoniac clock 
 struck three, I cried aloud, ^'T can stand 
 this no longer. Unless I get relief in some 
 way I shall die." With that I sprang out 
 of bed and hastily dressed mvself. It 
 
276 BBOJVX STUDIES. 
 
 occurred to me that it migiit be well to 
 jot down my impressions, and tlie date, 
 and the exact hour when I saw Edward 
 Waring die. This was not a difficult task, 
 for it has always been my habit to keep a 
 journal. 
 
 The mental labor connected with this 
 gave me great comfort, and when I had 
 finished, just as the clock struck four, I 
 found to my great delight that I was 
 positively drowsy, and in less than fifteen 
 minutes was fast asleep. 
 
 It was on the 5th of Marcli that this 
 strange thing happened to me, and dur- 
 ing the next few days I managed to re- 
 gain control of myself and look upon the 
 whole affair as one of those curious hal- 
 lucinations of which medical books are 
 so full. My nervous system, I concluded, 
 had received a sudden shock, and tliese 
 effects were produced by the imagination, 
 which dug up from my brain-cells an odd 
 
WAS IT A VISION? 211 
 
 lot of impressions and wove them into tlie 
 shape of a vision. 
 
 On the eighth day I received a letter 
 from my cousin in Florida. " Ah ! " I said 
 to myself, ^'now I sliall discover how I 
 have been deceived." 
 
 Still I hesitated to open the letter, partly 
 hecanse what had happened had come to 
 be rather sacred to me, and I did not 
 wish to have the delusion destroyed, and 
 partly becanse, if the delnsion was de- 
 stroyed, I should feel that I had fallen 
 into an abnormal condition both of mind 
 and body, which was an intensely dis- 
 agreeable thought. 
 
 Judge, therefore, of my surprise when 
 I read these paragraphs : 
 
 " Edward Waring has been a great suf- 
 ferer since I last wrote you. We all did 
 what we could, but fate was against the 
 poor fellow. The disease had worked in- 
 sidiously, and remedial agencies were too 
 late in their arrival. 
 
BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 '^I may tell you confidentially, since 
 it is all over, that the marriage was in 
 every way unfortunate. Both Edward 
 and Margaret ]*ecognized that they Avere 
 unsuited to each other j but they stood 
 nobly by their contract, and fui'nished 
 an example of patience, of suffering in 
 silence, and of forbearance, which others 
 may well follow. He was gentle and kind 
 to a degree, and she was — well, she was 
 a saint, and deserves to be canonized. 
 
 "But the end came at last. He knew 
 he was going, and the parting must have 
 been pathetic. There are some details 
 which I cannot trust myself to put in 
 writing. When I see you you shall know 
 all, and when you do know all you will 
 be as greatly surprised as I was when 
 Margaret confided them to me. 
 
 " Let it suffice that Edward died quietly, 
 peacefully, and mth a calm submission to 
 the will of God. He breathed his last on 
 
WAS IT A VISIONf 279 
 
 the night of March 5th, at exactly three 
 minutes past twelve o'clock." 
 
 I was so astounded at all this that the 
 letter dropped from my hands and my 
 eyes filled with tears. 
 
 The theory of hallucination was appa- 
 rently disposed of. My nervous system 
 was not out of order, and I had not suf- 
 fered from temporary aberration of mind. 
 
 It became as clear to me as the daylight 
 that on that night I was by the bedside 
 of Edward Waring and saw him die. I 
 can account for the facts in no other way. 
 
 But how I accomplished the feat, by 
 what means it became possible for me to 
 defy the laws of time and space — that is 
 beyond my reckoning, and I dare not even 
 attempt to explain it. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 BALKED BY FATE. 
 
 Well, the time has come to break up. 
 I have stayed two weeks longer than the 
 holiday allotted to me, and yet there are 
 strange regrets in my heart at thought 
 of saying good-by to the old camp. 
 
 What happy days and nights I have 
 had here ! My nerves were rather un- 
 strung when I met Dr. Van Nest in Broad- 
 way last autumn, but now they are like 
 so many threads of steel. My muscles, 
 also, were soft — for what exercise can a 
 man get in a city ? — but since I have been 
 here I have cut down forty good-sized 
 trees — all my own trees, too — and split 
 them into fire- wood. Besides, I have had 
 long tramps with my gun, ha^-e skated on 
 280 
 
MY OWN TREES, TOO. Page 280. 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 281 
 
 the lake whenever opportunity oifered, 
 have taken long excursions with the ice- 
 boat, have cut holes in ice two feet thick 
 and fished for trout, and have had all the 
 fresh air I wanted. I am as tough as a 
 hickory-Hmb, as brown as a cake of Mail- 
 lard's chocolate, and have an appetite — 
 but concerning that you had better con- 
 sult Sim. I think he will say that I Lave 
 done entire justice to his skill as a cook. 
 
 And now I must go. Leave the camp, 
 and these blue skies, and these clouds, 
 just as the spring opens and the crocuses 
 are welcoming the new season f That 
 seems hard. I love the old place, yes, I 
 love every blessed thing about it. Per- 
 haps it has faults, but I cannot see them. 
 Possibly it has inconveniences, but I 
 have not discovered them. 
 
 " What say you, Leo ? Have you had 
 a good time — as good a time as your 
 master has had ? " 
 
 The dear fellow looked at me quizzi- 
 
BBOJVX STUDIES. 
 
 cally, wagged his tail in a very mournful 
 way, and seemed to answer, " You know 
 that all outdoors is none too much for a 
 dog. You may like the noise and dust of 
 the city, but you can't expect me to share 
 your enthusiasm." 
 
 " So you don't want to go back, eh ! " I 
 asked. 
 
 He sat on his haunches, opened his 
 mouth in an expectant way, looked at me 
 rather sadly with those two great brown 
 eyes, which are so full of eloquence, and 
 then T\ith a short staccato bark walked 
 off into one corner, indulged in a long 
 yawn, and lay down. 
 
 I knew what he meant, and it was this : 
 " Master, why do you ask me such a fool- 
 ish question ? I don't want to hurt your 
 feelings with an appropriate reply, and so 
 choose to keep silent. But is the spring 
 nothing in a glorious country like this? 
 Don't you care to see the sun climbing 
 higher in the heavens, and the stars that 
 are hidden in the winter come ont in their 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 283 
 
 beauty, and the maples and ashes and 
 birches putting forth their new leaves, 
 and the green grass creeping over the 
 ground as though some one were lay- 
 ing a carpet, and — " but that was 
 enough. I turned and looked out of the 
 window. 
 
 " The dog is right," I said to myself. 
 ''Every season is beautiful in the coun- 
 try. Nature is a wonderful old dame. 
 She gives us something unique in winter, 
 when the hills and valle^^s are asleej), and 
 the north wind sings its lullaby; she 
 changes the scene to one of inexpressible 
 lovehness in the spring, when the world 
 rouses itself from slumber, and the hum 
 of a new life is heard everywhere ; when 
 the farmer drives his team afield, and 
 with plow and harrow turns up the invig- 
 orated sod and smooths it for his plant- 
 ing ; she scatters flowers by every roadside 
 in summer, and takes pleasure in exhib- 
 iting that marvelous alchemy by which 
 the wild rose and honevsuckle can distil 
 
284 
 
 BEOWN STUDIES. 
 
 the perfume that makes the air fragrant, 
 and by which the kernels of corn and 
 wheat multiply themselves with such gen- 
 erous prodigality that the barns are filled 
 to bursting ; and she throws a somber hue 
 over everything in autumn, the breezes 
 singing in the minor key as they sweep 
 through the branches, great flocks of 
 birds scenting the coming snowfall and, 
 under the leadership of a mysterious in- 
 stinct, winging their long flight over 
 mountains and waters in search of a 
 frienlllier clime. 
 
 " Yes, every season has its charm ; and 
 if I could have my own way I would linger 
 here, live and die here ; live in peace and 
 contentment, and, dying, sleep under one 
 of these huge forest-trees, with the twit- 
 tering birds to sing my requiem. 
 
 ^' But, Leo, dear dog — " 
 
 With that he slowly rose. 
 
 " But, Leo, I can't do it." 
 
 I could see in his eyes the question, 
 '•Whvnot?" 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 285 
 
 '^ ni tell 3^ou a secret, Leo, but will you 
 promise to keep it ? " 
 
 He looked straight into my face. 
 
 "Do you promise, sir ? " 
 
 He gave a quick bark, and then I knew 
 my secret would be safe. 
 
 " I have news, sir." 
 
 He took three steps forward and as- 
 sumed a listening attitude. 
 
 " She has sold her plantation, and is 
 coming North. Do you understand, sir ? 
 Don't you see that, beautiful as this spot 
 is, I can't stay? Doesn't it enter your 
 canine mind that 1 should be restless and 
 unhappy anywhere except in the place 
 where I can see Her ? • ' 
 
 Then Leo came close to me, rose on his 
 hind legs, placed his great paws on my 
 chest, and kissed my cheeks with his 
 rough tongue. 
 
 It was a good omen, or at least I chose 
 to so interpret it. 
 
 As I stood on the veranda five minutes 
 later, taking a tender farewell of every- 
 
286 BBOWN STUDIES. 
 
 thing, I could not help saymg to myself, 
 " Perhaps, after all, this is not a farewell. 
 Sometime I may come back here, and 
 possibly not alone. Who knows ? " 
 Who can help dreaming ? 
 And why should we not dream f 
 " The soHtude of two together." That 
 is what the poet says, and it is what I 
 have longed for nianj^ a year. 
 
 "And all I am I am through love of thee." 
 
 I kept repeating the line in a half-whis- 
 per. " Through love of thee ! " Yes, and 
 if I question my heart closely I find that 
 that love is just the same as ever ; a little 
 more quiet, mayhap, but still unchanged. 
 
 Then I recalled an incident in the long 
 ago. Margaret and I w^ere sitting under 
 an elm on the hillside. We had had a 
 long walk from Bedford to Katonah, and 
 from where we sat we could see the country 
 for fifty miles around. 
 
 She looked and looked, but said noth- 
 
 I 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 287 
 
 ing. The clouds were resting on tlie sum- 
 mit of a long range to the westward, and 
 the long intervale on this side was dotted 
 with patches of wood and with farmers' 
 cottages snuggled in convenient nooks 
 and corners, out of the way of the sharp 
 breezes of winter. It was a w^onderful 
 scene, made still more beautiful by three 
 lakes scattered over the landscape, and by 
 the heavy cumuli that floated lazily over- 
 head. 
 
 Margaret said nothing. She never said 
 anything when she felt most deeply. 
 Hers was a strange nature, and she used 
 speech very sparingly. But I could see that 
 she was deeply impressed, and at last her 
 eyes filled with tears, as she shyly placed 
 her hand in mine and grasped it tightly. 
 
 I understood her mood and kept silent. 
 
 At length I ventured, "Margaret, you 
 love nature ! " 
 
 She simply nodded her head, but made 
 no further reply. 
 
288 BROWX STUDIES. 
 
 " And could you be content to live far 
 from the city f " 
 
 '^ The farther the better/' she answered. 
 
 '' You wouldn't weary of it ? " 
 
 " Not if I had good company/' she re- 
 plied, with an arch look and a quiet smile. 
 
 So as I stood on that veranda I won- 
 dered if I might not sometime visit the 
 camp again. 
 
 '' Not if I had good company ! " Would 
 it ever be my lot to be that company ? 
 
 Possibly you are smihng at thought of 
 a bachelor of forty indulging in such ro- 
 mantic visions. 
 
 Well, age and sentiment have no an- 
 tagonisms. When a man is so far ad- 
 vanced in years, or has so cooled, that he 
 has no sentiment, it is about time to pack 
 his gripsack and go to heaven. 
 
 I gave Sim a silver watch which I had 
 carried all winter, and to John I gave my 
 rifle. All the remaining household goods 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 289 
 
 were distributed between tliem, share and 
 sliare alike. They are right royal good 
 fellows, and never once have they grum- 
 bled. They are steady, strong-headed, 
 honest-hearted men of the best New Eng- 
 land type, and when we shook hands it 
 was with sincere regret on the part of all 
 three — on the part of all f onr, indeed, for 
 Leo gave his paw to both of them, and 
 said in his own fashion, " If the signs of 
 the times can be interpreted by a St. Ber- 
 nard, we shall meet again on this very 
 veranda, and in front of this very lake. 
 So I will not say good-by, but an revoirJ^ 
 
 I have been in New York something 
 over two months, and it is now the middle 
 of May. Dnring the first week I was the 
 nnhappiest creature imaginable. In the 
 fii-st place, I could not breathe. It seemed 
 as though I was cabined, cribbed, con- 
 fined. The air was full of dust, and I 
 became so nervously irritable that I should 
 
290 
 
 BBOJTX STUDIES. 
 
 have gone straight back to the woods but 
 for one thing. In the second place, I was 
 in daily search of Her, and it is possible 
 that my want of success had something 
 to do with my nervous irritation. 
 
 I got at last into such a condition that 
 I called at the office of my old friend, 
 Dr. Van Nest. 
 
 '' Ah ! " he cried, heartily, '^ back again, 
 eh? Well, a cordial welcome, my dear 
 fellow. But what's the matter f You 
 look haggard." 
 
 Then he felt of my pulse, hstened to 
 my heart-beats, and put me through a 
 very rugged cross-examination. 
 
 At the end he ejaculated " Hm ! " with 
 considerable emphasis, and then added, 
 " I see, I see." 
 
 " I'm glad of that," I retorted, sharply, 
 " for it's a good deal more than I can do." 
 
 "You are as sound as a nut, Clarence. 
 Your heart goes like the tick of a clock. 
 How about your digestion 1 " 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 291 
 
 ^' Perfect/' I replied. 
 
 A second time he muttered that omi- 
 iions ^'Hm!" 
 
 "Well, what do yon mean by that?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "Had any business troubles?" 
 
 " None." 
 
 "Haven't lost any money!" 
 
 "Not a dollar." 
 
 " Restless at night ? " 
 
 " Yes, confound it ! I can't sleep at 
 all." 
 
 " Clarence, I'm going to be frank with 
 you — I can't cure you. I couldn't write a 
 prescription that would do you a particle 
 of good." 
 
 "Why not, pray?" 
 
 " Because 3'our trouble is mental, not 
 physical. There's something on your 
 mind." 
 
 This time it was I who said " Hm ! " 
 
 " Yes, you have all the symptoms of a 
 very serious disease," and the wretch drew 
 
292 BEOWX STUDIES. 
 
 liis mouth down nntil lie looked the pic- 
 ture of despair. 
 
 " And so you do know what the matter 
 is with me, after all ? " 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 '' What is it ? Is it cm-able ? " 
 
 ^^Yes, it is curable, but not by drugs. 
 Clarence, excuse me, my dear boy, but — 
 you are in love." 
 
 I said something about doctors who 
 know too much for then* own good, and 
 then abruptly took my leave in disgust. 
 
 Of course the doctor was right, but how 
 did he discover my secret? Can other 
 people find it out also ? I do not want to 
 go into the street wdth a placard on my 
 breast and the legend, " I'm in love ; pity 
 me," so I rushed into my apartment and 
 stayed there for twenty-four hours. I 
 felt humiliated, and was disgusted with 
 myself. 
 
 I soon learned, however, that Dr. Van 
 Nest was the only one of my friends who 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 293 
 
 suspected the truth, and that greatly re- 
 lieved me. 
 
 He has since confessed that his diag- 
 nosis was a random shot, but that my 
 embarrassment convinced him that he 
 had hit the mark. 
 
 "Why, Clarence," he said, "I never 
 dreamed of such a thing. I always sup- 
 posed you were eternally ordained to be 
 a bachelor. I was puzzled by youi- de- 
 pression, for I could find no caase for it, 
 and so, believing that you were the last 
 man in the world to fall in love, I jok- 
 ingly declared that that was your maladj^, 
 I bowled you over, though, the first time, 
 didn't I? In the words of Emerson, 'I 
 builded better than I knew.' " 
 
 But where had Margaret hidden her- 
 self ? That was the mystery. 
 
 Of course she would take no pains to 
 find me. I knew her too well to dream 
 of that. And I had absolutelv no clue to 
 
294 BBOJTX STUDIES. 
 
 her. My cousin simply wrote, '^ She is in 
 Kew York, or at least I suppose she is, 
 but she would tell me nothing of her 
 plans." Did she want me to find herf 
 Suppose she did not ! Then my condi- 
 tion woidd be worse than eyer. 
 
 My imagination was at work, and a 
 very heayy time I had of it. I conjured 
 up all sorts of possibilities — such as her 
 having grown cold to me, having forgot- 
 ten me altogether — and at night got my- 
 self into such a fever of excitement that 
 I frecpiently heard the clock strike the 
 hours until sunrise. 
 
 I do not believe there is any misery in 
 the world which Avill compare with that 
 of a man who has given his whole heart 
 to a woman, but does not know Avhether 
 she bestows even a passing thought on 
 him. 
 
 Once I had a most excruciating ex- 
 perience. I went to G-race Church on a 
 
 a 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 295 
 
 beantifnl June morning, hoping to find 
 surcease of sorrow. 
 
 I wonder if yon know what I mean 
 when I say that just before the service 
 began, while the organ was playing and 
 the crowd of fashionable folk were being 
 shown to their pews by the flunky of a 
 sexton, I had a feeling, an uncontrollable 
 feeling, that She was somewhere in that 
 building? Was I magnetically conscious 
 of her presence! Is it credible that we 
 can produce such an effect on each other ? 
 Can influences be transmitted through 
 the air? I know not, and yet I was sure 
 that in that throng Margaret was present, 
 and I fell at once into a fever of expecta- 
 tion. 
 
 What made me sure? And what was 
 it that whispered in my ear that I should 
 catch a glimpse of her before the clock in 
 the tower struck twelve ? 
 
 T was so impressed by this feeling that 
 before the service ended I took my station 
 
296 BliOWy STUDIES. 
 
 at the door, intending to watcli as the 
 people came out. 
 
 Well, I was repaid for my pains. I did 
 see her, though only for a moment — I 
 was sure I did. I could not be mistaken. 
 She was in deep black, with a veil over 
 her face, and was accompanied by a lady 
 and her husband, neither of whom I had 
 ever seen before. I knew her by her gait 
 and her general bearing. She had a pe- 
 culiar walk. It was slow and deliberate, 
 dignified and rhythmical. 
 
 I stood spellbound until she reached the 
 sidewalk, then, coming to my senses, tried 
 to push my way through the crowd which 
 blocked the narrow passage ; but before I 
 could reach her she had entered the car- 
 riage with her friends and was driven off. 
 
 Could anything be more exasperating? 
 It was a stroke of ill fortune, and I re- 
 sented it as unfair. The goal was just with- 
 in reach, but I missed it by thirty seconds. 
 
 I do not think I was ever in such a state 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 297 
 
 of mind in my life. There I stood, ntterly 
 dazed, watching that retreating carriage 
 Avith everything in it that was dearest to 
 me, and was ntterly helpless. 
 
 I think I onglit to be forgiven for what 
 I said on that occasion, for the provoca- 
 tion was certainly very sharp. Human 
 nature can bear a great deal, but there 
 are some things which are nnendr.rable, 
 and this was one of them. 
 
 There was in the incident all necessary 
 material for a story such as would have 
 delighted the genius of Poe. I did not 
 sleep much that night, and when morn- 
 ing came was sorry that I had slept at all. 
 
 I dreamed that Margaret was just with- 
 in reach, when seven humpbacked imps 
 seized me. The two in front were push- 
 ing me back, other two were dragging 
 me by my arms, while three stood by a 
 tree with ropes in their hands. Demoniac 
 howls of glee filled the air. " Bind him ! " 
 
298 BBOWN STUDIES. 
 
 tliey cried in chorus, " bind him ! " I 
 struggled with mad desperation, but it 
 was to no purpose. I shouted to Marga- 
 ret until I was hoarse, but not a word did 
 she hear. I succeeded in knocking one 
 of the w^retches down, but he was in- 
 stantly on his feet again and gave me 
 such a buffet that my ears rang. The 
 ropes w^ere coiled about me, and as I 
 looked at them they changed to loath- 
 some snakes, which slowly tightened their 
 hold until I fairly gasped for breath. I 
 had no longer any voice, but in spite of 
 all I whispered hoarsely the name ^'Mar- 
 garet ! Margaret ! " In the meantime she 
 was walking, all unconscious of my pres- 
 ence, toward a deep forest, in the shadow 
 of wliich she w^as lost to sight. At the 
 moment when she disappeared a loud clap 
 of thunder rent the air, and I awoke. 
 
 I got up, dressed, and sat by the open 
 window in a very unenviable frame of 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 299 
 
 mind. Balked ! Fate was against me, 
 and fate was stronger than I. 
 
 Wliat was the meaning of it? What 
 had I done to deserve such ill fortune? 
 "I certainly have no umvorthy motive," 
 I said to myself. "I want nothing of 
 which conscience cannot approve. On 
 the contrary, I am in pursuit of happi- 
 ness — and not my own happiness alone, 
 either — by perfectly legitimate means 
 which have been sanctified by the hopes 
 and prayers of every generation that ever 
 existed. And yet, just as I am about to 
 cross the threshold, the fiends get me by 
 the shoulder and thrust me back." 
 
 I was wild with excess of disappoint- 
 ment, for I saw no way of i-etrieving my 
 lost chance. When I looked in the glass 
 I found that my eyes were bloodshot. 
 There was an expression in them which 
 alarmed me. "Am I going insane?" I 
 asked, " and will they take me to Bloom- 
 ingdale? See how my hand trembles! 
 
300 BEOWN STUDIES. 
 
 Feel liow my heart flutters ! Note tlie 
 cold perspiration that has broken out all 
 over me ! " 
 
 My God ! what agony love brings ! 
 
 "Tell me, Leo," I said, as the dog 
 rubbed his nose against my knee, "tell 
 me, old fellow, was any poor mortal ever 
 in such a predicament before ? I w^ouldn't 
 care if there were any way out of it, 
 though. I count no labor or pains too 
 great if I can only reach the goal at last. 
 I think I could even laugli at my despera- 
 tion, and hug my grief, if there were a 
 ray of light. But what can I do, dear 
 dog, what can I do ? " 
 
 Leo uttered a low whine. Then he put 
 his face close to mine, still whining, as 
 though in sympathy. 
 
 I hardly know why, but the shaggy 
 brute gave me comfort. I grew calmer, 
 and in ten minutes lay down on the couch 
 and fell into a restless sleep. 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 301 
 
 I awoke. There on the table were the 
 letters which she had written in the old 
 days. They were the worse for wear, for I 
 had read them many times ; but somehow 
 I felt like reading them again, aiid so two 
 hours passed, until Tom called me for 
 my hath and my breakfast. 
 
 Now that I reflect upon it I am of 
 opinion that my chief trouble was a doubt 
 of Margaret. Was she still loyal, or had 
 her strange experiences crowded aside all 
 recollection of me ? My imagination ran 
 riot, and I put the circumstances together 
 in every possible shape, sometimes believ- 
 ing that she was true, and then again ad- 
 mitting that the chances were against me. 
 
 If I knew that she was in Grace Church 
 why should not she have known that I was 
 there ? And if we felt each other's pres- 
 ence how was it that we missed each other ? 
 
 If you float two fine needles in a bowl 
 of water they may at first be separated 
 by a very considerable space, but the 
 
302 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 mutual attraction is such tliat though 
 they drift about for a while, apparently 
 aimlessly, they are every instant tr^dng- 
 to get close together. It will not be long 
 before the gap between them is so lessened 
 that the magnetism increases their speed, 
 and in the end they lie on the placid sm-- 
 face side by side, theii* mission ended. I 
 have tried that experiment many times 
 and it never yet failed. 
 
 " Now, why did not the same law bring 
 Margaret and me together on that occa- 
 sion?" I asked myself again and again. 
 '' Was it that the love is all on one side ; 
 that I am attracted to her and she is re- 
 pelled from me f If that were so then I 
 could easily understand the Grace Church 
 incident. I knew she was there, but she 
 neither knew nor cared that I was there. 
 Is that the solution of the puzzle ? " 
 
 So I tormented myself, and a very 
 ^vretched time I had of it. By the end 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 303 
 
 of June I was so mortally tired of my- 
 selfj and so unfit for tlie company of my 
 friends, that I determined on a long- 
 rest in some quiet country village. 
 
 It made but little difference, of course, 
 in wlncli direction I went, if I only suc- 
 ceeded in getting away from the mad 
 world which was constantly expressing 
 surprise at my condition, and condoling 
 with me because I had made such a mis- 
 take in going to the Adirondacks. 
 
 I could not help smiling grimly more 
 than once when some overwise creature 
 assured me that he had told his wife when 
 I started in the autumn that I should not 
 be able to bear the climate and would 
 come back all worn out. "And now," 
 these people added, "here you are, thin 
 and worn and haggard, just as I knew 
 you would be." 
 
 Wliile studying a railroad map my eye 
 fell on the little village of Sharon, in 
 western Connecticut. The guide-book in- 
 
304 BEOWX STUDIES. 
 
 formed me that it was a beautiful spot, 
 just at the southern extremity of the 
 Berkshire Hills, with points of Yie^Y from 
 which a very extended country could be 
 seen, and many other attractions too 
 numerous to mention and which I cared 
 nothing about. 
 
 '' The Berkshires ? Didn't she once teU 
 me that she had been there? It is so 
 long ago that I have half forgotten, but 
 that is m}^ impression. And Sharon! 
 That, too, has a familiar sound. Let me 
 think. Have I ever been there? No. 
 Am I acquainted with anybody there? 
 No. Hold a minute. Where was Mar- 
 garet born? Somewhere among these 
 Berkshire Hills, I am sure. I can't be 
 mistaken about that? Why, of coui'se. 
 It is all plain now. My memory serves 
 me w^ell. It was in Sharon that she first 
 saw the light, and from Sharon she came 
 to New York." 
 
 So I determined to get out of the city 
 
 I 
 
BALKED BY FATE. 305 
 
 as soon as possible, and Sharon should be 
 my destination. Perhaps — but no, that 
 wonld hardly be possible. I might not 
 find any trace of her there, for all her 
 near relatives died long since ; but, at 
 any rate, it would furnish me an opportu- 
 nity to j)ull myself together, and that 
 was what I most needed. 
 
 So within forty-eight hours I was snugly 
 ensconced in the little inn on the main 
 street, under the shadow of a long row of 
 glorious elms. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MARRIAGE BELLS. 
 
 Beautiful Sliaron ! If you have been 
 tliere you may possibly say that my hiii- 
 guage is too strong. Topographically it 
 is not more exquisite in situation or out- 
 look than a dozen other New England 
 villages, but to me, and for reasons which 
 I shall disclose at my leisure, it is the fair- 
 est spot on the globe. 
 
 "When I go to heaven I hope to begin 
 the jom-ney from Sharon. 
 
 There is a central avenue a mile long 
 and something over two hundred feet 
 wide. On either side are stately elms, 
 some of them fifty and others a fuU cen- 
 tury old, whose branches interlace, giving 
 a picturesqueness to the place which it 
 
 306 ' 
 
MARRIAGE BELLS. 307 
 
 would be difficult to duplicate. These 
 elms have looked down on two or three 
 generations of men Avho have done their 
 day's work and then gone to the church- 
 yard at the western end of the village. 
 
 A certain kind of quiet and reposef ul- 
 ness prevails which lengthens the years 
 of the good folk who live there. As you 
 saunter about in the gloaming you see 
 old men who have counted out their four- 
 score winters and are still young in heart, 
 and matrons of threescore and ten who 
 have reared large families and yet show 
 very little of the strain of life. Once in 
 a while a patriarch with hair and beard 
 like snow stops to chat with you coiicern- 
 ing the weather or the crops or the dull 
 times, and you are surprised to learn tliat 
 he was in his cradle at the beginning of 
 the century. He tells you, from memory, 
 of the things that happened long before 
 the first steamboat stemmed the current 
 of the Hudson or the first locomotive sent 
 
308 BliOirX STUDIES. 
 
 its slirill whistle tliroug-li our valleys like 
 a strange, uneartlily strain of music. 
 
 Besides, tlie drives about Sharon are 
 exceptionally fine. During the fii*st week 
 of my stay I exjDlored the surrounding 
 country, sometimes on foot and then 
 again on horseback. From every hilltop 
 I had a new ^dew, the landscape being 
 varied by plains, rivers, and lakes, all 
 framed by ranges of mountains along the 
 horizon line. 
 
 My perturbed spirit gradually grew 
 calm under the sweet influences of my 
 environment, and my sharp, acute pain 
 gave way to a dull ache at the heart. 
 Not even the beauties or the sublimities 
 of natui^e could assuage that. 
 
 My thoughts were all of Her, and dur- 
 ing my long tramps through the woods I 
 gave rein to my imagination, conjured up 
 all sorts of pictures in which She and I 
 were side by side, and then woke from 
 the brown studv with a si oil 
 
 1 
 
MARRIAGE BELLS. 309 
 
 I was frightfully lonely — inexpressibly 
 so — for fate had ]3iit a cine to Margaret 
 into my hand, and when I had followed 
 it a certain distance, and seemed close to 
 a discovery of her whereabouts, it broke 
 and left me once more to my doubts and 
 fears. 
 
 Love is a good deal lilvc hunger, for it 
 gnaws the very vitals. 
 
 A love that has attained its object 
 furnishes us with a degree of bliss which 
 only heaven can excel. 
 
 A love that searches but cannot find, 
 that knows the dear one is somewhere 
 within telescopic distance and may come 
 at any moment within tlie reach of your 
 vision, makes you restless with a misery 
 which no words can express. 
 
 This was my condition. I went to 
 Sharon to get a new grip on myself, for 
 I had slipped away from my self-control 
 and was well-nigh crazed. Wliere had 
 She found a hiding-place ? Did she know 
 
310 BUOWN STUDIES. 
 
 I was searching for her? Did she hope 
 that sometime we should meet and clasp 
 hands in the old waj^, or had she become 
 forgetful of the past and indifferent to 
 me? 
 
 Suppose another, more worthy than I, 
 should — then came a rush of blood to my 
 head, and I grcAV dizzy. That thought 
 had not occurred to me before, and its 
 poignant anguish was like an arrow quiv- 
 ering in the flesh. I left the table where 
 I was taking my evening meal, and walked 
 up and down the piazza of the hotel for 
 hours — literally for hours — and the fiend- 
 ish possibilities which my brain conjured 
 up drove me wild. The moon came out 
 bright and clear, sweeping the clouds 
 away and extinguishing the stars by its 
 superior hght; but still I walked and 
 nursed my fear of all the evil chances 
 that might befall. 
 
 I tell you this because it will serve as 
 a prologue to that part of tlie story which 
 
MABBIAGE BELLS. 311 
 
 it will now be my happiness to relate, and 
 when you know all yon will understand 
 why Sharon is like paradise, and why I 
 am building a cottage there on a hilltop 
 just outside the village limits. 
 
 One evening, when I was feeling spe- 
 cially wretched, my soul like a lump of 
 indigo, my blood crawling through my 
 veins like a sluggish stream of ice- water, 
 I entered the little post-office in search of 
 letters. Not that I cared to hear from 
 my friends — if I had any — for I knew 
 well enough that they simply regarded me 
 as a queer sort of creature, who would 
 excite the curiosity of inqidring physi- 
 cians at a post-mortem. They were sure 
 that some abnormal condition of the brain 
 liad supervened, and that the surgeon's 
 knife and saw would after a little explain 
 my eccentricities. I was at the end of my 
 tether, however, and needed the stimulus 
 wdiich a missive with a stamp on it some- 
 times affords. 
 
312 BEOWN STUDIES. 
 
 The clerk behind the grated window 
 greeted me with a cheery " Good-even- 
 ing/' but I made no reply. I Avas in no 
 mood to talk, and he doubtless thought 
 me very nncoiu-teons. I thrust the letters 
 into my coat-pocket, not caring even to 
 know who had taken the pains to wiite, 
 and started for the door. 
 
 As I stood on the steps a lady brushed 
 by me somewhat hastily. She evidently 
 wished to avoid me, a fact which I thought 
 not unnatural, since I had done the same 
 thing many a time. But she was di-essed 
 in deep black, and that attracted my at- 
 tention. " Poor creature ! " I said to my- 
 self, "perhaps she has lost a child or a 
 husband;" and I turned for an instant to 
 look at her. Her face was veiled, but her 
 walk and her general bearing were fa- 
 miliar. I hardly knew why, but I began 
 to tremble. I feared to fall, and so leaned 
 against the door-post. 
 
 "Well," I said to myself, "the end is 
 
MABBIAGE BELLS. 313 
 
 not far off if you are so weak that the 
 sight of a strjiiiger in mourning affects 
 your nerves in that way." I was ahnost 
 furious with myself, and my indignation 
 gave me strength. But before I left the 
 room I turned to get a second glimpse of 
 the lady. She had three letters in her 
 hand, and had thrown her veil back for 
 a moment to read the inscriptions. 
 
 My heart stood still. How pale she 
 was, and what traces of sorrow had left 
 their mark on her forehead and cheeks ! 
 How clianged from other days, but what 
 a resigned, seraphic expression her face 
 wore ! 
 
 ^'Margaret ! " I whispered, as I sprang 
 to her side. 
 
 She turned, and her eyes met mine. 
 
 Her first word was " Clarence ! " but she 
 checked herself and added, '' Mr. Flem- 
 ing." 
 
 No, she did not take the hand which I 
 involuntarily stretched toward her, but 
 
314 BUOTVX STUDIES. 
 
 stood for an instant like a statue, tlien 
 hastily moved away. 
 
 " You will not leave me ? " I cried. 
 
 Then she gave me a look I shall never 
 forg-et. She must have seen how I felt, 
 what misery overwhelmed me, but if she 
 did she was not in the least affected 
 by it. 
 
 " I must go," she said. " Good-even- 
 ing." 
 
 '' May I walk with yon ? " 
 
 ^^ No ! " was the reply. 
 
 " It is so many years, Margaret." 
 
 " I know it." But this time she did not 
 even glance at me. 
 
 '^I have been searching for you for 
 months," I ventured. 
 
 She drew her veil down and I saw her 
 face no more. 
 
 " May I call on yon ? " 
 
 For a moment she hesitated, and then 
 answered, " It is better not." 
 
 " But shaU I not see you again ? " 
 
MAURI AGE BELLS. 315 
 
 "I cannot tell." And lier voice was 
 like the trembling note of a Ante. 
 
 "Yon have not forgotten, Margaret?" 
 
 '•Good-night, Mr. Flennngv" and the 
 next moment she was gone. 
 
 T w^as ntterly dazed, and stood stock- 
 still on the sidewalk like a graven image 
 for several minntes. What did it mean ? 
 Was she sorry she had met me ? 
 
 "At any rate," I said to myself, "my 
 search is over. W^iat strange fortnne it 
 was that bronght me to this particnlar 
 village at this particnlar time ! " 
 
 W^as it intended that we shonld stand 
 face to face, that my fntnre might be 
 decided and my hopes set at rest either 
 by f rnition or annihilation ? Were snbtle 
 forces at w^ork, forces of which we have 
 no knowledge, and did they incline her 
 to seek surcease of sorrow in the home of 
 her childhood, and at the same instant 
 lead me to seek a remedy for my ills in 
 the same place ? It seemed to me that if 
 
!1G 
 
 BB01VX STUDIES. 
 
 fate was not specially cruel it had some 
 purpose in this wonderful coincidence. 
 
 So I went back to my hotel, crawled 
 up into my room, and lay on the lounge 
 pondering. 
 
 Two weeks afterward I was walking 
 through a secluded lane for the simple rea- 
 son that I wanted to be alone. It was just 
 beyond the village, on the road that leads 
 to the Housatonic Valley. At a bend of 
 the path I came upon Margaret once more. 
 
 That was another strange incident. 
 Why was she there in that untrodden 
 spot, and, moreover, why was I there? 
 When I started out in the morning I 
 knew nothing about such a path, and 
 took no thought of where I was going. 
 I wanted to get out of the way, and when 
 I saw this lane leading through the woods 
 it seemed enticing, and without a mo- 
 ment's hesitation I turned into it. 
 
 " Margaret," I said, " it is intended that 
 we should meet." 
 
MARRIAGE BELLS. 317 
 
 " So it seems," was lier quiet reply. 
 
 '■'' Do you often walk here ? " 
 
 ^' I have never been here before." 
 
 ^^ Neither have I." 
 
 " It was a mere chance/' she continued. 
 '■'■ I was a bit out of sorts with myself, and 
 came out for a brisk tramp. The high- 
 way was dusty, and this path seemed so 
 cool and shady that I thought it might 
 give me the solitude I need." 
 
 " And my experience was precisely the 
 same," I replied. "Are you sorry that 
 we have met, Margaret ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she answered. 
 
 " Margaret ! " 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " I am glad we have met just here, 
 have much to tell you, and there are some 
 thiugs you can tell me. Be frank with 
 me now : is the past gone forever f " 
 
 " I have a good memory," she answered. 
 " It is not my fault, though perhaps it is 
 my misfortune." 
 
318 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 I grew bitter, for it seemed to me tliat 
 slie was trying to avoid a dii-ect answer. 
 
 No man in the world can understand 
 a woman. She is not made of the same 
 material as we ; her composition is finer, 
 her intuitions more acute, her way of 
 looking at life more subtle. 
 
 I accused her of a want of loyalty, 
 spoke with vehement earnestness, poured 
 out all the fears that had wrung my soid, 
 and Avhen I had finished she put her hand 
 on my arm and said, " Clarence, pardon 
 me, but I must not listen to you. You 
 forget that I have a grave to guard. 
 Your words are unworthy of 3'ou. You 
 are cruel." 
 
 I saw that she was suffering. The 
 hand on my arm was trembUng. I had 
 strangely blundered in my utterance. 
 She was greater, nobler, more chivalrous 
 than I, and I felt humiliated. 
 
 " Good-by, my friend,"' she said at last. 
 " You would not respect me if you thought 
 
MARRIAGE BELLS. 319 
 
 I could do less than my duty. My hus- 
 band — " then she broke down, and her 
 words went to my heart. 
 
 "Go 3^our Avay/' she added, '^and let 
 me go mine. You have your burden and 
 must bear it ; I have a burden also." 
 
 Then she turned and quietly walked 
 away. 
 
 " God help me ! " I cried, as she disap- 
 peared. "It is all over. My doom is 
 sealed. She may have a grave to guard, 
 but I have one too. My hopes are buried, 
 and there is nothing now to live for." 
 
 I sat under a tree and dreamed for two 
 mortal hours. " Respect her ! " I cried, 
 " I respect her more than ever. She will 
 not let even me intrude upon her private 
 griefs. Did she not tell me, with ahnost 
 brutal plainness, that I must stand aside ? " 
 
 I fairly writhed in agony. The drama 
 had ended, so far as I was concerned. 
 
 " Go your way, and let me go mine ! " 
 What could be clearer than that ? 
 
320 BliOW^i STUDIES. 
 
 ''My friend!" Was that all I could 
 ever be to her ? 
 
 Then with a groan I staggered to my 
 feet and slowly wandered on. She had 
 turned her back on me, and I should 
 probably never see her again. Ten years 
 of waiting, and at the end indifference. 
 Unseen hands had guided our separate 
 fortunes, but when the consummation of 
 my prayers seemed within reach she said, 
 " Go your wa}^, and let me go mine." 
 
 During the next month I met her three 
 times, but she was on all occasions cool 
 in demeanor, even cold. I was fire and 
 she was ice. I was a volcano and she 
 was a glacier. 
 
 I see it all now, and can afford to smile 
 at my mistake, but at the time I was the 
 most wi'etched being that lived. 
 
 One day I sat with her on the roadside 
 on the brow of the hill at the western 
 end of the village. I hardly knew how, 
 but the conversation drifted to her ex- 
 
MARRIAGE BELLS. 321 
 
 perieiices in Florida, and she told me of 
 life on tlie plantation, of the kindliness 
 of her neighbors when her hnsband fell 
 ill, and some pathetic anecdotes of tlie 
 devoted negroes, who mnst have regarded 
 her as a saint or an angel. Then she said : 
 
 '^ I want to tell yon about Edward's last 
 honrs; what a patient snfferer he was, 
 and how l)ravely he met his doom. There 
 were some strange occurrences during 
 the last night of his life, and I have never 
 been able to account for them. Perhaps 
 you can explain them. I remember that 
 in the old days — " 
 
 There she stopped. Evidently she had 
 made the reference unwittingh^, and re- 
 gretted it both for her own sake and mine. 
 She looked at the lake in the near dis- 
 tance, and then at the horizon, whose 
 clouds were of a rich orange color, and 
 seemed lost in thought. 
 
 '' Those memories are painful, Marga- 
 ret. It is better not to refer to them." 
 
:{22 BliOWX STUDIES. 
 
 " I did not intend to/' she replied. '' I 
 am sorry." 
 
 Her voice was tremulous, and I saw 
 her bite her lips. 
 
 '• Let it pass,"' I said, '• and tell me about 
 the things that puzzle von." 
 
 "You were interested in occult mat- 
 ters/' she continued, " and knew all about 
 such things." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " You have not forgotten ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, I have not forgotten anything." 
 
 " Do you still retain your interest ? " 
 
 " Somewhat, but not so much as for- 
 merly, Margaret ; and yet I may possibly 
 helj) you. Tell me the whole story." 
 
 "Well, when Edward was dying — it 
 was close to midnight — I had a strange 
 consciousness that you were present." 
 
 "Indeed! How could that be pos- 
 sible?" 
 
 "I don't know. That is what I want 
 vou to tell me. All that dav I felt very 
 
MAEBIAGE BELLS. 323 
 
 helpless and very hopeless. The neigh- 
 bors were more than nrg-ent in tendering 
 their services, bnt somehow nothing that 
 they eonld do appeared to satisfy me. 
 My thonglits were beyond my control. I 
 would have checked them, ])nt could not. 
 I felt it to be almost a sacrilege, and 
 blamed myself without stint, but I wanted 
 a kind of sympathy which no one there 
 could give me." 
 
 Again she hesitated. 
 
 " I don't know why I tell you this," she 
 went on. " Perhaps you are not pleased." 
 
 " Pray tell me the whole truth," I cried. 
 " It is more important than yon thiidv." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " No matter just now," I answered. '' I 
 will explain later on. How did you feel 
 my presence, and when did you feel it 
 first?" 
 
 " It was between ele^^en and twelve. I 
 even went to the window and looked out, 
 half expecting that I might see you in 
 
324 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 tlie road. Then I pushed it all aside as 
 the work of a tired brain ; but just as I 
 took my seat once more at Edward's side 
 I felt sure that you were in the room. 
 Strange, wasn't it ? " 
 
 " What else ? " I asked, and my soul was 
 on fire. 
 
 "Not much, only I thought I heard 
 your voice." 
 
 " You did hear me, then, you did hear 
 me? What did I say?" 
 
 " You called ' Margaret ! ' If I had not 
 known that you were a thousand miles 
 away I could have SAVorn that you were 
 near me at that time, and the thought 
 gave me strength. Then, just as the 
 clock struck twelve — " 
 
 " The clo(;k on tlie mantel ? " I asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " The clock in a morocco case, the one 
 r gave you on your birthday ? " 
 
 "Yes," and she looked at me with open- 
 eyed wonder. " How do you know — " 
 
 3 
 
MAIUIIAGE BELLS. 325 
 
 I took her liaiid^ and this time she did 
 not withdraw it. 
 
 " Shall I tell you how I know ? " I asked. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " It is incredible." 
 
 '' That makes no difference." 
 
 " You will think me crazy." 
 
 " Perhaps, but no matter." 
 
 " You thought I was with you on that 
 lastnig-htf" 
 
 " I was sure of it." 
 
 " Well, you were right. I was there." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 " Yes, Margaret, I was really there, and 
 saw all that occurred." 
 
 She trembled with excitement. 
 
 " You have told me a part of the story, 
 Margaret 5 now let me finish it. Edward 
 called for a pencil and paper, did he 
 not?" 
 
 She nodded her head. 
 
 " He wrote a letter, put it in an enve- 
 lope, and addressed it." 
 
326 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 "Yes, but liow could you know?" 
 
 " T saw liim." 
 
 " Yon were in the Adirondacks." 
 
 '■'■ No, I was in Florida."' 
 
 This was more than she eonld bear, and 
 lier eyes filled with tears. 
 
 '' That letter,'' I went on, " Avas intended 
 for me. He handed it to yon and asked 
 you to deliver it in person. You have 
 never given it to me. It is mine, and I 
 must have it.' 
 
 " Do 3"ou know its contents?" 
 
 "No, but I have a risrht to know, and 
 I will know. Have you it with you ? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "You will let me have it?" 
 
 "I- don't know that I ought." 
 
 " That," I insisted, " is not a matter for 
 you to decide. It Avas Edw^ard's last re- 
 quest, and you must respect it. You 
 have something in your possession which 
 does not belong to you. I am the right- 
 ful owner, and I demand the letter." 
 
MAlllllAGE BELLS. 327 
 
 This may seem to be severe language, 
 but of coui'se there was good nature under 
 it all. I had an infinite curiosity to know 
 the contents of that letter, for it was writ- 
 ten by the dying man under strange cir- 
 cumstances. It referred to me in some 
 way, some very peculiar way, and must 
 have had a special significance, since it 
 was the last statement of a man who was 
 about to leave the world for the unknown 
 and unexplored future. 
 
 " You shall have it," said Margaret, very 
 quietly, " but — '' 
 
 - But what ? " I asked. 
 
 ''You ought, I think, to allow me to 
 read it also." 
 
 "You have no knowledge of what it 
 contains ? " 
 
 "Not the least," she answered. 
 
 " And no surmise f " 
 
 " I had better not answer that question, 
 because I may be mistaken." 
 
 "When shall I have it, Margaret?" 
 
328 BIWIVX STUBIES. 
 
 '^ I will send it to your hotel this even- 
 ing." 
 
 And she did. 
 
 I Avent straight to my room in a very 
 unhappy frame of mind, and with a cer- 
 tain feeling of awe, as though I was about 
 to converse with the dead. I sat at the 
 window for a long while, holding the let- 
 ter in my hand and thinking over that 
 wonderful experience which most people 
 will regard as an hallucination. At last, 
 hoAvever, I tore the envelope and read as 
 follows : 
 
 '^ My dear Clarence : I am dying. 
 The end of my journey is near at hand, 
 and \ feel sure that I shall not see the 
 light of another day. I cannot go Avith- 
 out a Avord with you. 
 
 " Margaret ! It has been a one-sided 
 love. I gave her all I had to give, but 
 she gave me very little in return. It was 
 not her fault, and I had no AVord of blame 
 
MARRIAGE BELLS. 329 
 
 or even of criticism. She did what she 
 could, has been a true and faithful wife ; 
 hut do not for a moment think I have 
 been deceived. 
 
 " She belonged to you, has been yours 
 at heart all these years, and is yours at 
 this moment when she is watching by my 
 side, soon to close my eyes in the last 
 sleep. 
 
 " Under the influence of a terrible ex- 
 perience she said ' Yes ^ when she should 
 have said ^ No,' and would have said it if 
 she had reflected for twenty-four hours. 
 But I was greedy for her, and lionestl}^ 
 believed that I could in time make her 
 love me. In this I have not been success- 
 ful. 
 
 " Take her, my dear fellow, and, if you 
 can, forgive me for robbing you of a 
 great deal of happiness. It will all come 
 round right in good time. I do not know 
 how or where, but you will meet her, and 
 she will be wholly yours. Think of me 
 
330 BROWN STUDIES. 
 
 as kindly as ma}^ be. I give you a dying 
 mail's blessing, with tlie hope that 3'oii 
 and she will forget these long and weary 
 years of waiting. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 '' Edward." 
 
 Can I describe my feelings on the peru- 
 sal of this letter ? No, they must be left 
 to your imagination, for no words can 
 give them their proper coloring. 
 
 Should I, dare I, show such a letter to 
 Margaret ! Would she be sorry for hav- 
 ing read it ? Suppose Edward was in the 
 w^rong after all, and the old love had died 
 
 away ! 
 
 What a plight I should be in, and w^hat 
 a frightful position for her to occupy ! 
 
 Yet I knew that she would meet the 
 emergency bravely, and tell me the exact 
 truth, for she never flinched in a crisis. 
 
 " Margaret," I said, as we sat together 
 under a shady tree, with a brooklet rip- 
 
MARRIAGE BELLS. 331 
 
 pling at our feet, '' I have that letter with 
 me." 
 
 She held out her hand. 
 
 "It refers to matters which are very 
 sacred to me." 
 
 ''Yes?" 
 
 ''And these matters also concern you." 
 
 >' Indeed ! " 
 
 Then I went over the whole story of 
 the past, not without great vehemence of 
 expression, I judge, for there was a look 
 of alarm in her face. 
 
 "And now," I said, "shall I read the 
 letter?" 
 
 "If you wish," and her voice fell to a 
 whisper. 
 
 At the end she heaved a great sigh, and 
 there were tears in her eyes. 
 
 I took her hand in mine and — 
 
 But why should I say more? There 
 are some things which one does not speak 
 of, and this is one of them. 
 
 Suffice it that when I parted from her 
 
332 BBOWX STUDIES. 
 
 tliat afternoon I said good-by witli a 
 kiss. 
 
 All that occuiTed two j^ars ago. 
 
 Last nnontli Margaret and I Avere mar 
 ried. 
 
 Mv brown studies are at an endc 
 
HERALD SERMONS. 
 
 By Rev. GEORGE H. HEPWORTH, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " HIRAM GOLF's RELIGION," ETC. 
 
 45 Short Sermons reprinted from the New York Herald. 
 i2mo, 252 pages. Portrait of Author. $1.00. 
 
 " For months past a sermon has appeared as the leading- editorial in 
 the Sunday edition of the Herald^ and these sermons have now been 
 published in booii form. In reproducing these admirable discourses the 
 publishers have unquestionably acted wisely. Both here and in Europe a 
 lively controversy has been aroused in consequence of the bold statements 
 and striking originality of these weekly essays on religious topics, while 
 at the same time great curiosity has been manifested in regard to the per- 
 sonality of the author. 
 
 " But why have these sermons caused such a sensation ? Do they differ 
 so much from ordinary sermons? .... Lucidity, brevity, the ex- 
 pression of vital truths in clear cut Saxon English, absence of dogmatism, 
 an evident abhorrence of intolerance of all kinds, a catholic sympathy 
 with human beings of all ranks and creeds, and a determination to insist 
 on all occasions that ecclesiasticism, with its formulas and rigid adherence 
 to the letter of the law, is quite a different thing from the simple, soul 
 satisfying religion of Christ — these, we think, are the chief characteristics 
 of George H. Hepworth, as made known to us through this book, and it 
 is precisely because he has given full play to his individuality that these 
 sermons of his are well worth reading now, and will be well worth read- 
 ing long after the author has passed away." — Nezu York Herald. 
 
 " In these sermons subjects were chosen which come home to every 
 individual some time in his life whether he is in one church or another, or 
 in no church ; and they were treated in such a broad way that they could 
 be beneficial to all. The sermons have one excellent merit which it would 
 be well if some of those given in pulpits could be patterned after — they 
 are brief and strictly to the point. Some of the sermons which are par- 
 ticularly helpful or suggestive are, 'A Wasted Life,' ' Prayer,' ' The 
 Problem of Poverty,' 'Why Do We Suffer?' 'Heroes and Heroines,' 
 ' Bearing Good Fruit,' ' Do What You Think Is Right,' ' Little 
 People Who Live Little Lives,' and ' You Shall Have Strength.' These 
 are a few of those in the volume, every one of which will contain some 
 word for some one in trouble or doubt." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 " They are addressed to men and women entangled in the perplexities 
 of life, and help them not so much by opening: to them a larger faith as by 
 disclosing to them the hope and comfort which lies in the faith they now 
 hold." — Independent. 
 
 "A volume of unusual interest. These sermons have already reached 
 large congregations. They ought to, and doubtless will, in the present 
 form reach still larger. They will be found helpful, all the more so be- 
 cause of their freedom from dogma, and of their fresh, vigorous dealing 
 with practical questions and problems." — Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 
 Sent by 7nail^ postpaid^ on receipt of price. 
 
 E. P. DUTTON & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
 31 West 23d Street, New York. 
 
Hiram Qolf's Religion; 
 
 OR, 
 
 " The Shoemaker by the Grace of God, 
 
 By GEORGE H. HEPWORTH. 
 
 13th thousand. i6mo, 134 pages, cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 " Plain talks of a shoemaker and a parson. They are in dialect ; the 
 style is both quaint and strong. A book that gives the reader something 
 to think about, . . . The sterling, homely common sense of the book 
 is commanding wide attention." — The Evangelist. 
 
 " This little book contains, in quaint and simple sketches, the essence 
 of practical Christianity. Hiram Golf is a man who exemplifies the pre- 
 cept, ' Whether ye eat or drink, or whatever ye do, do all to the glory of 
 God.' His talks with the young minister are the best sort of lay sermons, 
 and his life is at once a model and an inspiration. The book cannot fail 
 to be of service to ministers and laymen alike."- — Nc^v York Observer, 
 
 " The point is that serving God consists in doing His will, especially 
 so as to benefit one's fellow men and women wherever one finds himself. 
 It is a powerful and touching little story and should have a large circula 
 t i o n . " — Co ngrega tio n a list . 
 
 " This book is a small volume, but contains wisdom in large chunks. 
 Hiram was a poor shoemaker who mended shoes, and was just as much an 
 adept in mending worn-out, tired souls. His talks are eminently practical 
 and adapted to benefit all the army of grumblers. Hiram's religion has 
 nothing in it that is dyspeptic, which is more than can be said of many 
 good, well-meaning people. The little book has wonderfully good prac- 
 tical lessons, adapted to every-day life, on every page." — The Inter-Ocean. 
 
 " About a year ago a little book was published which won for itself 
 thousands of readers in a very few months. ' Hiram Golf's Religion ' 
 was one of the sturdy books that make men live better, because it makes 
 them think better. The homely sayings of the old shoemaker made every 
 one study himself." — Books and A nthors. 
 
 "If every Christian minister and layman would read this little book 
 and put into practical life its wholesome suggestions, there would be a 
 
 great change in the tone of many Christian communities One 
 
 will have a truer idea of the value of a small place for winning souls after 
 reading this keen, practical, helpful book. Would that there many more 
 like it." — Religious Telescope. 
 
THEY MET IN HEAVEN 
 
 By GEORGE H. HEPWORTH. 
 
 5th thousand. i6mo, 216 pages, cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 An account of The Fireside Chib and its discussions during the 
 winter preceding- the death of Hiram Golf. 
 
 " This is a tender and helpful study in religious experiences. . . 
 To many Dr. Hepworth's method may be a hand stretched out from 
 heaven. To all it will be a book of pure, gentle and persuasive Christian 
 inspiration. . . . We have no doubt that an inquirer hke Van Brunt, 
 shut up in the dark, barren and hopeless cage of intellectual orthodoxy 
 and spiritual leanness, would find Hiram Golf's method a door open 
 into faith." — Independent. 
 
 " It tells of a small club of friends, one of whom is Hiram Golf, the 
 now well-known 'shoemaker by the grace of God,' and how their chats 
 brought trust and peace to one bereaved, despairing and almost crazed, by 
 unfolding to him the hopes of heaven and of reunion with the beloved 
 dead which the gospel suggests. It is eminently readable, and is practical 
 and inspiring." — Congregationalist. 
 
 "The reading public, after enjoying ' Hiram Golf's Religion' by this 
 same talented author, will cordially welcome this very interesting com- 
 panion volume. It is a gem of the first water, like the other. It portrays 
 in a skilful, )^et natural and tender manner, a case of genuine religious ex- 
 perience. It shows how men, struggling in deep mental and moral dark- 
 ness — the most unlikely subjects of conquering grace — may be led out into 
 life and faith and hope and heaven. Books of this character have a 
 blessed mission, and should be warmly received and widely read. The 
 narrative portions are fascinating. The whole is put in a most charming 
 and persuasive \Na.Y. "'''^Christian Ifiteiiigencer. 
 
 THE LIFE BEYOND. 
 
 This riortal flust Put on Immortality. 
 
 By GEORGE H. HEPWORTH. 
 2nd thousand. i6mo, 116 pages, cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 " The author of this choice book is pleased to think that he has made 
 no single statement which can in any proper sense be called original ; but 
 he has given the oldest truths and the commonest beliefs a freshness of put- 
 ting and illustration better than originality. He tells the old, old story: 
 he tells it in a way to stimulate interest and desire and afford consolation 
 to the wearied and forlorn, who are seeking for sources of comfort in the 
 unseen and immeasurable things beyond the vail." — Zion''s Herald. 
 
 " The thoughts presented are expressed clearly and forcibly, and in a 
 style fitted to commend them to tried and sorrowing hearts," — Watchmayi, 
 

 
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