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 .G57 S6 !. No. 61. 
 
 1911 === 
 Copy 1 
 
 JUNE 1911 
 
 1 HE ForeKuhneR 
 
 BY 
 
 CKarlotte Perkios Gilman. 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Something To Vote For. 
 A Diet Undesired. 
 Happiness and Religion. 
 The Crux. Chapter VI. 
 Stones. 
 
 The Wild Oat. of the Soul. 
 
 That Obvious Purpose. 
 
 Moving the Mountain. Chapter VI. 
 
 "N. G." 
 
 Comnient and Review. 
 
 1.00 A YEAR 
 
 87 WALL ST. NEW YORK 
 
 .10 A COPY 
 
THE FORERUNNER 
 
 A Monthly Magazine 
 WRITTEN, EDITED, OWNED AND PUBLISHED 
 
 By 
 
 Charlotte Perkins Gilman 
 
 "THE CRUX" . 
 
 Mrs. Gilman's new novel, appears in 
 THE FORERUNNER, of 1911 
 
 This touches upon one of the most vivid and vital of our marriage problems; 
 and has more than one kind of love story in it. Also, published serially, 
 her next book, 
 
 "Moving the Mountain'' 
 
 Tliose who believe this world is a good place, easily made better, and who 
 wish to know how to help it, will enjoy reading this book. Those who do 
 not so believe and wish may not enjoy it so much, but it will do them good., 
 
 The Forerunner carries Mrs. Gilman's best and newest work; her social 
 philosophy, her verse, satire, fiction, ethical teaching, humor, and com- 
 ment. It stands for Humanness in Women, and in Men ; for better 
 methods in Child-culture ; for the Home that is no Workshop ; for the New 
 Ethics, the New Economics, the New World we are to make — are making. 
 
 THE FORERUNNER for 1910,. bound, $1.25 
 THE FORERUNNER 8a"Sdiai-~ ri'i:?S * ^f*' 
 
 eHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN'S MAGAZINE Porwlcn 1.35 «♦ 
 
 CHARLTON CO.. 67 WALL ST.. NEW YORK -lO » •«»Py 
 
 «— \ 
 
 Please find iaolaaed $ m •obsoriptioa te "The Porcnuuer" fron 
 
 19 to 19 . 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 WiUt Btanttia Biti 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 Charlotte Perkins Oilman 
 
 FROM OUR REVIEWS 
 
 "What Diantha Did" is a sensible book; it 
 gives a new and deserved comprehension of 
 the importance and complexity of housekeep- 
 ing. . . . We would not undervalue Mrs. 
 Oilman's attempt to let some light in upon the 
 distracting situation of woman in domestic 
 work. It is needed there if in any business in 
 the world. — The Independent. 
 
 Mrs. Oilman is as full of ideas as ever, and 
 her Diantha is a model for all young women. 
 . . . Diantha's plans may well furnish a so- 
 lution to the problems of domestic life that 
 have long been pressing intolerably upon the 
 American woman, and are by no means 
 negligible in European countries. — The Eng- 
 lishwoman. 
 
 The story is full of action and humorous 
 situations. . . . Diantha is a clever and 
 most engaging young woman, and her experi- 
 ence is related in such a manner, with facts 
 
 and figures, as to be of practical value to other 
 aspiring housekeepers. — Chicago Socialist. 
 
 What she did was to solve the domestic 
 service problem for both mistress and maid in 
 a southern California town ; and she illustrated 
 in her own life Mrs. Oilman's theory that a 
 wife, mother and housekeeper can easily be 
 also a business man. — The Survey. 
 
 The interest in all this lies partly in the 
 reader's continual questioning of the possibility 
 of such results and the shrewdness with which 
 Mrs. Oilman meets these inevitable questions 
 with trenchant facts and incontestable figures. 
 At the end one may not be convinced, but one 
 has been impressed. The kitchen, whose sor- 
 did demands have thwarted the aspirations of 
 so many women and prevented any measure 
 of real life, has a real interest in the hands of 
 such a serious and clever writer. — The Chicago 
 Evening Post. 
 
 Mailed post-paid by 
 
 Handsomely bound, $L00 
 
 THE CHARLTON COMPANY 
 
 67 Wall Street, New York City 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 The Man-made World 
 
 Or, 
 
 Our Androcentric Culture 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLOTTE PERKINS OILMAN 
 
 "Since the beg-innin:^ of recorded history the most civiHzed part of 
 our world has held that woman was at the bottom of all the evil from 
 which we are suffering. Now comes a woman who tells us that it is 
 all the other way. In so far as the world is bad, she says, it is so 
 because man has made it to suit himself, without regard for woman's 
 ways and woman's needs. 
 
 "Furthermore, this woman says that for six thousand years, at least, 
 man has been writing books about woman, as woman making her out 
 to be everything but what she really is. This one woman is tired of the 
 process. She wants to get even with man, and so she has written a 
 book about man — as man. She knows that he will not like it, but she 
 does not care. For she feels that the world can never become what it 
 ought to be until woman gets a hand at its remaking, and for this 
 reason the truth must be told first of all. 
 
 "Of the future Mrs. Oilman says this in conclusion : "The scope and 
 purpose of human life is entirely above and beyond the field of sex 
 relationship. Women are human beings, as much as men, by nature; 
 and as women, they are even more sympathetic with human processes. 
 To develop human life in its true powers we need full equal citizen- 
 ship for woman." — A^. V. Times, Sunday, January 15, 191 1. 
 
 Mailed post-paid Price, $L00 
 
 THE CHARLTON COMPANY 
 
 67 Wall Street, New York City 
 
VoliHTie II. No. 6 
 
 THE 
 
 JUNE, 1911 
 
 1.00 A YEAR 
 
 FORERUNNER 
 
 A MONTHLY MAGAZINE 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN 
 
 AUTHOR, Owner & Publisher 
 67 Wall Street, New York 
 
 10 A COPY 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1911 C. P. GILMAN 
 ENTERED IN NEW YORK POST OFFICE, N. Y., OCTOBER 29. 1909, AS SECOND-CLASS MATTER 
 
 Parental duty is a law of Nature. 
 
 Filial duty is a virtue invented by the Patriarchs. 
 
 SOMETHING TO VOTE 
 
 A One Act Play 
 
 FOR 
 
 JUN 6 1811 
 
 TIME, 50 MINUTES. 
 PEOPLE IN THE PLAY. 
 
 Mrs. May Carroll: A young, beautiful, rich 
 widow; an "Anti" ; President of Woman's 
 Club; social leader. 
 
 Dr. Strong: A woman doctor, from Colo- 
 rado, interested in Woman Suffrage and 
 pure milk. 
 
 Miss Carrie Turner: Recording Secretary 
 of Club; a social aspirant; agrees with 
 everybody; "Anti." 
 
 Mrs. RtEDWAY : Corresponding Secretary of 
 Club; amiable, elderly nonentity; "Anti." 
 
 Mrs. Wolverhampton : Rich, impressive, 
 middle-aged matron; "Anti." 
 
 Mrs. O'Shane: A little woman in black; 
 thin, poor. 
 
 Louise: A maid. 
 
 Club Women : Mrs. Black, White, etc. 
 
 Mr. Henry Arnold: A Milk Inspector. 
 
 Mr. James Billings : Head of the Milk Trust. 
 
 Place — A parlor, porch or garden, belong- 
 ing to Mrs. Carroll. 
 
 Properties Required — Chairs enough, a 
 small table, a small platform covered with a 
 rug, a table bell, tzvo pitchers, a glass, a vase; 
 two milk bottles filled zvifh water, starch and 
 a little black dirt; a yellow-backed bill, some 
 red ink, a small buncJi of flozvers, tzvo large 
 clean handkerchiefs, a small bottle of iodine, 
 a teacup. Miss Turner has a bag for her 
 papers, and Dr. Strong an instrument bag or 
 something similar, also a large pocket-book. 
 
 SOMETHING TO VOTE FOR. 
 
 {Chairs arranged at right, platform, 
 with table and three chairs at left 
 front. Doors at left, right and center.) 
 
 (Enter Miss Turner and Mrs. Rced- 
 Zi'ay, I.) 
 
 Copyright, 1911 
 
 By Charlotte Perkins Oilman 
 
 Mrs. Reedway — Dear me! I was so 
 afraid we'd be late ! 
 
 Miss Turner — {Looking at watch.) 
 Oh, no ! The meeting begins at three 
 you know, and it's only quarter past ! 
 
 Mrs. Reedway — {Drawing scarf 
 about her.) I wish it would get warmer! 
 I do Hke warm weather! 
 
 Miss Turner — So do I ! 
 
 Mrs. Reedway — What a lovely place 
 Mrs. Carroll has ! I think we are ex- 
 tremely fortunate to have her for our 
 president. 
 
 Miss Turner — So do I ! She's so 
 sweet ! 
 
 Mrs. Reedway — I hear she has asked 
 Mr. Billings to this milk discussion. 
 
 Miss Turner — Yes — you're not sur- 
 prised are you ? 
 
 Mrs. Reedway — Oh, no! Every one 
 is talking about them. He's been con- 
 spicuously devoted to her for some time 
 now. I think it's her money he's after. 
 
 Miss Turner — So do I ! But she's 
 crazy about him ! 
 
 Mrs. Reedway — I suppose she thinks 
 he's disinterested — being so rich himself. 
 But I've heard that he'd lose a lot if this 
 milk bill goes through. 
 
 Miss Turner — So have I ! 
 
 {Enter Dr. Strong. I.) 
 
 Dr. Strong — Sorry to be late. I was 
 detained by a patient. 
 
 Miss Turner — Oh, you're not late, 
 Dr. Strong. The ladies are usually a lit- 
 tle slow in gathering. 
 
pf^il'V^^ 
 
 And about what 
 really begin ^ 
 
 144 
 
 Dr. Strong — I see ! 
 time do your meetings 
 
 Miss Turner — About half past three, 
 usually. 
 
 Dr. Strong — Next time I'll come 
 then. I could have seen two more pa- 
 tients—I hate to see women so un- 
 punctual. 
 
 Miss Turner — So do I ! This is Mrs. 
 Reedway, our corresponding secretary. 
 Dr. Strong. (They shake hands.) 
 
 Mrs. Reedway — You must remember, 
 Dr. Strong, that our members are not 
 — as a whole — professional women. 
 
 Dr. Strong — More's the pity ! 
 
 (Enter Airs. Wolverhampton, I.) 
 
 Mrs. Wolverhampton — Well, well ! 
 Not started yet? But you're always on 
 hand, Miss Turner. (Fans herself.) 
 Bless me, how hot it is ! I do hate hot 
 weather. 
 
 Miss Turner — So do I. 
 
 Mrs. Reedway — Have you met our 
 new member, Mrs. Wolverhampton? Dr. 
 Strong, of Colorado. (Mrs. IV. bozvs. 
 comes forzvard and shakes 
 
 me 
 
 Dr. S 
 hands. ) 
 
 Mrs. Wolverhampton — Dear 
 From Colorado ! And I suppose you 
 have voted ! 
 
 Dr. Strong — I certainly have. You 
 seem to think I look like it. 
 
 Mrs. Wolverhampton. — Why, yes; 
 if you'll pardon me, you do. 
 
 Dr. Strong — Pardon you? It seems 
 to me a compliment. We're very proud 
 of being voters — in my country. 
 
 (Mrs. R. and Mrs. W. draw aside and 
 converse in lozv tones. Miss T. fussily 
 arranges papers; she has a large flat hag, 
 and is continually diznng into it and 
 fumbling about.) (Enter Mrs. Car- 
 roll, c.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Pardon me, ladies ! 
 I'd no idea it was so late. (Greets them 
 all). 
 
 Miss Turner — Dear Mrs. Carroll ! 
 Would you accept these flowers ? 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — How charming of 
 you. Miss Turner ! They are lovely. 
 (Siveeps tozvard Dr. S., both hands out, 
 c.) My dear Doctor! I feel so glad and 
 proud to have you with us ! ( Turns to 
 others.) You know, Mrs. Wolverhamp- 
 ton, Dr. Strong saved my mother's life! 
 If she had come here sooner I'm sure 
 she would have saved my baby ! And 
 
 Something To Vote For ^ ■ - 
 
 she's going to be such a help to our .-lub, 
 aren't you, Doctor? 
 
 Dr. Strong — I'm not so sure of that, 
 Mrs. Carroll. I'm afraid this isn't the 
 sort of club I'm used to. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — It's the sort of a club 
 that needs you, Doctor! (Takes Dr.'s 
 arm and sits dozvn zvith her.) Make 
 yourselves quite at home, ladies, the 
 others will be here presently. (Miss T., 
 Mrs. R. and Mrs. W. go out, c.) We've 
 got everything arranged. Doctor. I'm 
 going to have a bottle of the Billings Co. 
 milk tested, and ]\Ir. Billings himself is 
 to be here. 
 
 Dr. Strong — That may be awkward. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Oh, no ! The milk is 
 all right — I've taken it for years. And I 
 think he's a very line man. 
 
 Dr. Strong. — (Drily.) So I hear. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — You mustn't believe 
 all you hear. Doctor. 
 
 Dr. Strong — I don't. But I hope it 
 isn't true. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Hope what isn't true? 
 
 Dr. Strong — About you and Mr. 
 Billings. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Never mind about me 
 and Mr. Billings ! The question is have 
 you got the new Inspector to come ? 
 
 Dr. Strong — ^Yes, he'll be ready on 
 time — but the club won't, I'm afraid. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Oh, a few moments 
 won't matter, I'm sure. It's a Mr. Ar- 
 nold you said — do you know his initials? 
 
 Dr. Strong — His name's Henry T. 
 Arnold. I believe he's honest and efifi- 
 cient. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — (Meditatively.) I 
 used to go to school with a boy named 
 Harry Arnold — he was the very nicest 
 boy in the room. I think he liked me 
 pretty well 
 
 Dr. Strong — And I think you liked 
 him pretty well — eh? 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Oh, well ! That was 
 years ago ! 
 
 Dr. Strong — (Suddenly.) By the 
 way, Mrs. Carroll, have you any red ink ? 
 
 AIrs. Carroll — Red ink? 
 
 Dr. Strong — Yes, red ink — can you 
 
 get me some? 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Why, I'm sure I 
 don't know. Let me see — I did have 
 some — it's right here — if there is any. 
 (Goes out r. and returns zvith red ink.) 
 
 Dr. Strong — Thank you. (Takes out 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 145 
 
 a yellozv - backed bill, and deliberately 
 marks it.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — How exciting! What 
 do you do that for, Doctor? 
 
 Dr. Strong — Just a habit of mine. 
 Some day I may see that again and then 
 I'd know it. 
 
 ]Mrs. Carroll — Do you mark all your 
 money ? 
 
 Dr. Strong — Oh, no. Only some of 
 it. And now will you do me a real 
 favor ? 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Indeed I will ! 
 Dr. Strong — Please do not make any 
 remark about this bill if you see me 
 change it ! ! 
 
 INIrs. Carroll — How mysterious ! I 
 won't say a word. 
 
 Dr. Strong — (Putting azuay bill.) 
 You said I might bring along one of my 
 patients, for evidence, and I have. I've 
 got little Mrs. O'Shane here to tell them 
 how it affects the poor people. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — That will be interest- 
 ing, I'm sure — where is she? 
 
 Dr. Strong — Waiting outside — I 
 couldn't induce her to come in. 
 Mrs. Carroll — I'll bring her in. 
 (Exit Mrs. C, I., returns zvith a small 
 shabby zvomen in black, zvho shrinks into 
 the chair farthest back and sits silent. 
 Mrs. Carroll — It's very good of you 
 to come, Mrs. O'Shane; we're so much 
 obliged ! 
 
 (Enter Louise, I.) 
 Louise — Mr. Arnold, Ma'am. 
 Mrs. Carroll — Show him in, Louise. 
 (Exit Louise. Enter Mr. Arnold, I.) 
 
 Dr. Strong— Mrs. Carroll— Mr. Ar- 
 nold, 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — It is Harry Arnold, I 
 do believe ! But you don't remember me ! 
 Mr. Arnold — Don't remember little 
 May Terry ! The prettiest girl in school ! 
 I've never forgotten her. But I did not 
 expect to find you here. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — I'm glad to welcome 
 you to my home, Mr. Arnold, as well as 
 to our club. And how are you — get- 
 ting on? 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Nothing to boast of 
 Mrs. Carroll, if you mean in dollars and 
 cents. I like public work you see, and 
 the salaries are not high. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — But some of our offi- 
 cials get very rich, don't they? 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Yes, some of them do, 
 — but not on their salaries. 
 
 Dr. Strong — If you knew more about 
 politics, Mrs. Carroll, you would think 
 better of Mr. Arnold for not making 
 much. And he an Inspector, too! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — You don't mean that 
 our public men are bribed, surely! 
 
 Dr. Strong — It's been known to oc- 
 cur. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Oh, I can't believe 
 that such things go on — here ! Did any 
 one ever bribe you, Mr. Arnold? 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Some have tried. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Not in this town, 
 surely. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Not yet. 
 
 Dr. Strong — He's only just appoint- 
 ed, Mrs. Carroll. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Thanks to you, Dr. 
 Strong. 
 
 Dr. Strong — Yes, I guess I did help. 
 (Enter Louise, L) 
 
 Louise — Mr. Billings. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Ask him to come in. 
 (Exit Louise, I. Enter Mr. Billings, I.) 
 Good afternoon, Mr. Billings. Let me 
 present you to my dear friend, Dr. 
 Strong — our new member. And Mr. 
 Arnold you probably know — the Milk 
 Inspector. (Mr. Billings approaches Dr. 
 Strong, zvho bozvs stiffly. He shakes 
 hands amiably ztnth Mr. Arnold.) 
 
 Mr. Billings— Well, Mr. Arnold, I 
 think we're going to make an impression 
 on these ladies. I trust you'll deal gent- 
 ly with me. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — I'll do the best I can, 
 Mr. Billings. I didn't expect to have 
 the head of the Milk Trust in my audi- 
 ence. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — That is all my fault, 
 Mr. Arnold. I have taken milk of Mr. 
 Billings' company for years, and it's al- 
 ways good. And I want the ladies to 
 know it. Mr. Billings can stand the 
 test. 
 
 jMr. Arnold — I'm glad to hear it, 
 Mrs. Carroll. 
 
 ]Mr. Billings — (Genially.) You'll 
 show up all of us rascally milk-men I 
 don't doubt. 
 
 Mr. Arnold— I hope not. (Mr. Bil- 
 lings goes to Mrs. Carroll. They talk 
 apart. Dr. Strong confers zdth Mr. 
 Arnold.) 
 
 Dr. Strong— (To Mr. Arnold.) Now 
 
146 
 
 Something To Vote For 
 
 Mr. Arnold watch me, and be sure you 
 play up. Say you can't make change 
 for this bill! (Goes to Mr. Billings.) 
 Mr. Billings — can you — and will you — 
 change this bill for me? Mr. Arnold 
 here can't make it. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — I'm sorry, Doctor. But 
 I haven't seen a hundred dollar bill in 
 some time. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Perhaps I can — 
 
 Mr. Billings — No indeed, Mrs. Car- 
 roll ! I shall be delighted. Dr. Strong, — 
 if I have that much about me. (Brings 
 out bills from pockets and makes up the 
 amount.) 
 
 Dr. Strong — Thank you, Mr. Bil- 
 lings. (Gives him her marked bill. The 
 club members are seen arriving in back- 
 ground, c. Returning to Mr. A.) What 
 figures have you brought, Mr. Arnold? 
 I don't want to cross your trail. (They 
 confer apart.) 
 
 Mr. Billings — (To Mrs. Carroll.) 
 Isn't it rather a new thing for you to 
 interest yourself in public matters, Mrs. 
 Carroll? 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Oh, but milk is really 
 a domestic matter — don't you think so? 
 So many of our ladies are getting 
 interested in it. 
 
 Mr. Billings — I suspect that is be- 
 cause you are ! I do not think you 
 realize your influence in this town. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — I'm sure you overesti- 
 mate it. 
 
 Mr. Billings — Not in the least ! Look 
 at the way you swing this club ! And 
 these are the society lights — all the other 
 women follow. And the men are yours 
 to command anyhow ! I tell you such 
 an influence as yours has Woman Suf- 
 frage beaten to a standstill ! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Oh ! — Woman Suf- 
 frage! (With great scorn. Enter Mrs. 
 Wolverhampton, c.) 
 
 Mrs. Wolverhampton — Pardon me 
 Mrs, Carroll, but it is half past three. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Dear me ! yes, we 
 must come to order. (Ladies all come in 
 and take seats. Some polite confusion. 
 Mrs. Carroll in the chair. Mrs. O'Shane 
 and Mr. Billings at extreme right, be- 
 hind others but near front of stage.) 
 Platform, table, etc., I. front.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — (Rising.) Ladies, and 
 — gentlemen, — I — er — as you all know, 
 I can't make a speech, — and I'm not in 
 
 the least fit to be the president of a club — 
 but you would have it you know ! (Mur- 
 mur of approval; faint applause.) I am 
 very glad to welcome you to my home, 
 and I'm sure I hope we shall all enjoy 
 meeting here. (Adore faint applause.) I 
 don't suppose it's very business like — 
 but the very first thing I want to do is to 
 introduce our new member, Dr. Strong 
 of Col. (Mrs. C. sits. Dr. S. rises and 
 bozvs.) O do come forward to the plat- 
 form. Doctor, where we can all see you. 
 
 Dr. Strong — (Coming to platform.) 
 Madam President — Ladies — and gentle- 
 men ! I did not expect to be sprung on 
 you until after the reading of the 
 minutes at least. But I am very glad to 
 meet you and to feel that you have 
 honored me with membership in what I 
 understand is the most influential wom- 
 an's club in this community. I have 
 heard that this is a very conservative 
 club, but I find that you are interesting 
 yourselves in one of the most vital move- 
 ments of our time — a question of practi- 
 cal politics — Pure Milk. (The ladies cool 
 and stiffen at the word "politics.") It is 
 a great question — a most important ques- 
 tion — one that appeals to the mother- 
 heart and housekeeping sense of every 
 woman. It is a matter of saving money 
 and saving life — the lives of little chil- 
 dren ! I do not know of any single issue 
 now before us which is so sure to make 
 every woman want to vote. The ballot 
 is our best protection. (Cries of "no!" 
 "no" Much confusion and talking among 
 members. One hiss. Mrs. Wolverhamp- 
 ton rises ponderously.) 
 
 Mrs. Wolverhampton — Madam 
 President ! I rise to a point of order ! I 
 move you that our new member be in- 
 formed that all discussion of woman suf- 
 frage is forbidden by the by-laws of this 
 club! There is no subject so calculated 
 to disrupt an organization. 
 
 Mrs Black — Madam President! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Mrs. Black. 
 
 Mrs. Black — I wish to second the 
 motion ! We decided long ago to allow 
 no discussion of woman suffrage ! I con- 
 sider it to be one of the most dangerous 
 movements of our time ! 
 
 Mrs. White — Madam President! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Mrs. White. Won't 
 you come forward, Mrs. White? 
 
 Mrs. White — O no, excuse me — no. 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 147 
 
 I'll speak from here. I merely wish to 
 agree with the previous speaker. Wom- 
 an suffrage breaks up the home. 
 
 Mrs. Grey — Madam President! 
 
 Mrs. Greex — Madam President. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Airs. Grey I think 
 spoke first. In a moment, Mrs. Green. 
 Mrs. Gray. I just want to say that I for 
 one should feel obliged to resign if 
 woman suffrage is to be even mentioned 
 in the club ! 
 
 Mrs, Green — Madam President ! 
 
 Mrs. Brown — Madam President ! 
 
 Mrs. &c — Madam President! {There 
 has been a constant buzz of disap- 
 proval. ) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Ladies ! One at a 
 time, please! {Several ladies are on 
 their feet. All speak together.) 
 
 Mrs. Green — A woman's place is in 
 the home, Madam President! If she 
 takes good care of the home and brings 
 up her children right — 
 
 Mrs. Brow^n — Women are not fitted 
 for politics, they haven't the mind for it 
 — and my husband says politics is not fit 
 for women, either ! 
 
 Mrs. Jones — This club decided long 
 ago that it was against woman suffrage 
 — et al. Who'd take care of the baby? 
 
 Our power is through our feminine in- 
 fluence — 
 
 Yes — a woman's influence. — {Great 
 confusion.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — {Rapping feebly on 
 the table.) Ladies, ladies, we will ad- 
 journ for some refreshments. Won't 
 you please all come and have some tea? 
 {All go out, c. and r. still talking. Mrs. 
 C. and Mr. B. last. Dr. S. and Mr. A 
 remain.) 
 
 Mr. Arnold— (To Dr. S.) Well, Dr. 
 Strong, you did put your foot in it ! 
 
 Dr. Strong — [Ruefully.) Yes — that 
 was unfortunate, wasn't it? I'd no idea 
 they'd fly up like that, 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Never mind. I'll only 
 talk milk to 'em — pure milk ! 
 
 Dr. Strong — {Walks up and dozvn, 
 hands behind her, much perturbed.) I'm 
 right sorry to have annoyed those wom- 
 en. This is an awfully important oc- 
 casion. Even if they can't vote, they 
 could do something. 
 
 Mr, Arnold — Don't you fret. Doctor, 
 we'll get them interested. 
 
 Dr. Strong — You don't know how 
 
 important this is. The death rate among 
 the babies here is something shameful — 
 it's mostly owing to bad milk — and the 
 bad milk is mostly owing to this man 
 Billings. If this bill passes he's got the 
 whole thing in his hands ! And he's 
 crooked ! 
 
 Mr. Arnold — I'd about come to that 
 conclusion, myself. 
 
 Dr. Strong — He's got her confidence 
 you see — and she swings this town, so- 
 cially. What's more, he means to marry 
 her — and he's not a fit man to marry 
 any decent woman. We've got to put a 
 spoke in his wheel, Mr. Arnold ! 
 
 Mr. Arnold — I'm willing. 
 
 Dr. Strong — You'll never get a better 
 opportunity than right now ! He'll try 
 to fix you before you speak — I'll promise 
 you that ! and do you stick out for that 
 hundred dollar bill — and take it ! 
 
 Mr. Arnold — I guess not ! What do 
 you think I am? 
 
 Dr. Strong — I think you're man 
 enough to see this game through. It's a 
 marked bill, I tell you ! You take that 
 hundred and look at it — if there's a 
 speck of red in the middle on the top 
 — on both sides — you take it, and bring 
 it out in evidence after you've shown 
 up the milk ! 
 
 Mr. Arnold — But the milk he sends 
 here'll be all right. 
 
 Dr. Strong — Of course! But I've 
 brought in another bottle in my bag — 
 and I'm going to substitute it ! It's his 
 milk, all right — the common grocery 
 store kind — you'll be safe with the iodine 
 test. Sh ! You take that bill ! 
 {Re-enter Mrs. C. c. bringing tea to Mrs. 
 O' Shane.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll— (To Mrs. 0.) We are 
 really much indebted to you for coming, 
 Mrs. O'Shane — I hope you are quite 
 comfortable? 
 
 Mrs. O'Shane — Thank you Ma'am, 
 thank you kindly ! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — {Crossing to Dr. S.) 
 Now Dr. Strong, you musn't be angry 
 because our ladies are not suffragettes. 
 
 Dr. Strong — Not a bit — I'm only 
 sorry I mentioned it — I'm here to talk 
 milk — not suft'rage. 
 
 Mrs, Carroll — That's so nice of you ! 
 Now do go out and get some tea, doc- 
 tor. {E.rit Dr. S. r.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — I suppose you're 
 
148 
 
 Something To Vote For 
 
 going to be very impressive Mr. Arnold ! 
 You were as a boy, you know ! 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Was I? I don't re- 
 member that. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Yes, indeed. You 
 used to brush your hair, — when you did 
 brush it — in a way I thought extremely 
 fine. 
 
 ]\Ir. Arnold — And yours was always 
 brushed! Beautiful long soft curls! I 
 used to wish I dared touch them ! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — My hair's grown so 
 much darker since then, and I'm getting 
 grey. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — (Drawing nearer.) 
 Grey! It's a libel! Not a single one. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — There were — two or 
 three — but, to speak confidentially, I 
 pulled them out. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — It wasn't necessary. 
 You will be still more beautiful with 
 grey hair ! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — You didn't make com- 
 pliments at thirteen. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — No — I didn't dare. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — And how do you dare 
 now. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — The courage of desper- 
 ation, I suppose. Here you are, still 
 young, more beautiful than ever — the 
 richest woman in the town ; the social 
 leader; able to lift and stir all these 
 women — and here am I, a lot older than 
 you are — and nothing but a milk inspec- 
 tor! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — You haven't had 
 much personal ambition, have you? 
 
 Mr. Arnold — No, I haven't. But I 
 might — if I were encouraged. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Mr. Arnold ! I am so 
 glad to find you are my old friend. And 
 to think that you do — perhaps — value 
 my opinion. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — You're right as to that. 
 That's what discouraged me when you 
 married Carroll ; and when I heard that 
 you had become a mere society woman — 
 You've got a good mind, always had, but 
 you don't use it. 
 
 Mrs, Carroll — You do think I have a 
 mind then? 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Indeed I do! A first- 
 class one ! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Then let me persuade 
 you to speak for this milk bill, Mr. 
 Arnold ! And I do hope in your speech — 
 you'll mention the excellent influence — 
 
 on the milk, you know — of Mr. Billings' 
 company. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Why — I shall have to 
 tell what I know, Mrs. Carroll; you 
 want the facts. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Of course we want 
 the facts ! But — having Mr. Billings' 
 milk to be tested — and Mr. Billings 
 here — and he being a good friend of 
 mine — I'm particularly anxious to have 
 his reputation thoroughly established. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — I see. And if I said 
 anything against Mr. Billings, we should 
 meet as strangers? 
 
 Mrs. Carroll— Not at all, Mr. Arn- 
 old ! It's the milk we're talking about 
 — not Mr. Billings. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — I beg pardon — I under- 
 stand ! (Re-enter Mr. B. c. Exit Mr. 
 A. r.) 
 
 Mr. Billings — (Coming to Mrs. C.) 
 I began to think I shouldn't have a 
 chance to see you at all ! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Why I'm quite con- 
 spicuous, I'm sure, — in the chair ! 
 
 Mr. Billings — Ah! But I like best to 
 see you alone ! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — No one sees me when 
 I'm alone ! 
 
 Mr. Billings — You can joke about it, 
 Mrs. Carroll; it is a very serious matter 
 to me. You must know how much I 
 care for you — how long I have been de- 
 voted to you. You know I'm an ambi- 
 tious man, Mrs. Carroll. I must be to 
 dare hope for you! There are things I 
 can't speak of yet — big chances in poli- 
 tics — if I had you with me — with your 
 beauty and fascinating ways — By Hea- 
 vens ! There's no place I wouldn't try for. 
 (Walks up and doivn excitedly.) I 
 never wanted anything so much in my 
 life — as I want you. When will you 
 give me an answer? 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Certainly not now, 
 Mr. Billings. 
 
 Mr. Billings — W^hen the meeting is 
 over? 
 
 Mrs. Carroll— Perhaps— when the 
 meeting is over. 
 
 (Enter Miss Turner c. with bag and 
 papers.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll (rises, and goes to her. 
 Mr. B. turns oway)— Well, Miss Tur- 
 ner, are you going to set us to work 
 again ? 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 149 
 
 Miss Turner — I hope I don't inter- 
 rupt 
 
 AIrs. Carroll — Interrupt! Why this 
 is a club meeting. Miss Turner ! Are 
 we ready now? 
 
 Miss Turner — Perhaps, if you'd have 
 the maid bring in the sample. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Oh, yes. (Rings. 
 Enter maid r.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Bring in the bottle of 
 milk, Louise. (Exit maid r. Re-enter 
 Dr. S. and Mr. A. c.) 
 
 Mrs. Billings (jocularly) — I'm to 
 be the scapegoat for the sins of the 
 whole community, I see ! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — You are going to 
 clear the good name of our milk sup- 
 ply, Mr. Billings. 
 
 (Re-enter maid r. witJi bottle of milk, 
 sets it on table I. f.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Here it is ! The best 
 milk in town. (They all approach 
 table.) 
 
 Mr. Billings (takes it up) — That's 
 mine, all right. Name blown in the bot- 
 tle, sealed with paraffine, air-tight from 
 cow to customer, Mr. Arnold ! 
 
 Mr. Arnold (examining bottle) — 
 Looks like good milk, Mr. Billings. 
 
 Mr. Billings — It is good milk, ]\Ir. 
 Arnold; there's none better in the mar- 
 ket! We're not afraid of your exam- 
 ination. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Do you send out a uni- 
 form quality? 
 
 Mr. Billings — Well, hardly that, of 
 course. W^e have some with less butter 
 fat, comes a cent or two lower — but it's 
 all pure milk. 
 
 Dr. Strong (to A. aside) — Get 'em to 
 look at your papers — call 'em off! 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Have you seen our of- 
 ficial cards, Mrs. Carroll? (Takes out 
 papers. They turn to him. The doctor 
 whips out bottle of milk from her bag 
 and changes it for the one on the table. 
 Billings hears her and turns around. 
 Conies over to table and takes bottle up. 
 Starts. Others turn also.) 
 
 Dr. Strong — What's the matter? 
 
 Mr. Billings — JNIatter? Why— noth- 
 ing. 
 
 Dr. Strong — Name blown in the bot- 
 tle all right? Paraffine seal all right? 
 (All come to look.) 
 
 Mr. Billings — Yes, yes, it's all right. 
 (Moves off evidently perturbed.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — What is it? Any- 
 thing wrong with the milk? 
 
 Mr. Billings — No, no, certainly not. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll— Well, Miss Turner, I 
 think we must collect our audience. 
 (They go out. c.) 
 
 Dr. Strong — Can I be of assistance? 
 (Follozvs zvith a meaning glance at Mr. 
 A. ivho is by the table.) 
 
 (Mr. B. zvith sudden determination 
 zvalks szviftly to the table to take milk 
 bottle. Mr. A. sei:::es it.) 
 
 Mr. Billings — Excuse me, Mr. Ar- 
 nold — but there's a mistake here! This 
 is not the milk I sent Mrs. Carroll — ^by 
 some error it's a bottle of our second 
 quality. I'd hate to have her find it out. 
 I've got my car here and I'm just going 
 to run off and change this — it won't take 
 but a minute ! 
 
 Mr. Arnold (holding the bottle) — I 
 don't think you'd better, Mr. Billings. 
 It would look badly. There's really no 
 time. 
 
 Mr. Billings (agitated) — I guess 
 you're right. See here — this is a very 
 important matter to me — more important 
 than you know. . . . This bottle is 
 not my best milk — but — but I'd be much 
 obliged to you if it tested well 
 
 Mr. Arnold (drily) — I hope it will. 
 
 j\Ir. Billings — Look here, Arnold, 
 confound it ! They'll all be back in a 
 minute! Here! Quick! (Passes him a 
 bill.) 
 
 AIr. Arnold (takes it. Looks at it, 
 both sides) — I'm not in the habit of tak- 
 ing bribes, Mr. Billings. 
 
 Mr. Billings — Sh ! I can see that — 
 you are so stiff about it ! For goodness 
 sake, man, see me through this foolish 
 hen-party and I'll make it well worth 
 your while ! Come, put that in your 
 pocket for this one occasion, you under- 
 stand ! 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Well — just for this one 
 occasion! (Puts bill in pocket.) 
 
 (Ladies all re-enter r. I. c. and take 
 scats. Meeting called to order. Mrs. C. in 
 chair as before; I. /., bustle, talk.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll (rapping on table) — 
 Will the meeting please come to order. 
 I think, since it is already so late — and 
 since we have such important — er — such 
 an important — question to discuss, it will 
 be as well to postpone the regular order 
 of business until our next meeting. I'm 
 
150 
 
 Something To Vote For 
 
 sure you will be glad to have our discus- 
 sion opened with a few words from Mr. 
 Billings. Mr. Billings is the head of the 
 milk business here, and knows more 
 about it than any man in town. It is his 
 milk which we are to have tested this 
 afternoon — and he is proud to have it so 
 — aren't you, Mr. Billings? (Smiles at 
 him. ) 
 
 Mr. Billings (rather constrainedly) 
 — Yes ; yes. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Now, do talk to us a 
 little, Mr. BilHngs. Won't you please 
 come forward. 
 
 Mr. Billings (rising in his place) — 
 Madam President, and ladies, also Mr. 
 Inspector : I feel it to be an honor to be 
 here to-day to meet so many of the lead- 
 ing ladies of our community ; to see so 
 many fair faces — hear so many sweet 
 voices — take the hand of so many I am 
 proud to number among my friends. I 
 wish to congratulate this club on its new 
 president (botv.^ to Mrs. Carroll.) — a 
 lady whose presence carries a benefac- 
 tion wherever she goes. (Applause.) 
 In these days, when so many misguided 
 and unwomanly women are meeting to- 
 gether for all manner of unnecessary 
 and sometimes utterly mistaken purposes, 
 it is a genuine pleasure to find here so 
 many true women of that innate refine- 
 ment which always avoids notoriety. 
 (Takes out large ivhitc handkerchief and 
 zvipes face.) The subject upon which I 
 have been asked to address you is one 
 which appeals to the heart of every 
 woman — milk for babes ! The favorite 
 food of our children, the mainstay of 
 the invalid, the foundation of all deli- 
 cate cookery ! 
 
 It has been my pleasure, ladies, and 
 my pride to have helped in serving this 
 community with pure and healthful milk 
 for many years past. 
 
 Our new organization, of which there 
 is now so much discussion in the public 
 press, is by no means the evil some 
 would have you believe. I speak as one 
 who knows. This is not the place for 
 dry financial statistics, but I assure you 
 that through this combination of milk 
 dealers which has been recently effected 
 you will have cheaper milk than has ever 
 been given here before, and a far more 
 regular and reliable service. For the 
 quality we must trust to the opinion of 
 
 these experts (zvaz'es his hand to Dr. 
 Strong and Mr. Arnold) ; but for the 
 wish to serve your best interests, and 
 for a capacity in service developed 
 through years of experience, you may 
 always count upon yours truly. ( Bozvs 
 and sits. Stir and murmurs of ap- 
 proval. Applause.) 
 
 Mrs. a. — Isn't he interesting. 
 
 Mrs. B. — Just what I think. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — I'm sure we are all 
 very grateful to Mr. Billings for giving 
 us so much of his valuable time. It is so 
 interesting, in this study of large general 
 questions, to get information from the 
 fountain head. And now we shall learn 
 the medical side of it from a most com- 
 petent authority. Ladies, I take pleas- 
 ure in introducing my dear friend. Dr. 
 Strong, who will speak to us on — what 
 do you call it. Doctor? 
 
 Dr. Strong (coming forzvard) — Let 
 us call it The Danger of Impure Milk. 
 (Stands a moment, looking earnestly at 
 them.) We all love babies. We love 
 our own babies best of all, naturally. 
 We all want to feed our babies well, and 
 some of us can't do it ourselves. Next 
 to the Mother, the most important food 
 supplier for our children is the Cow. 
 Milk is the most valuable article of food 
 for little children. 
 
 I suppose you all know that bottle- 
 fed babies die faster than breast-fed — 
 by far; they die mostly in summer, and 
 from enteric and diarrheal diseases. 
 (Reads from notes.) 17,437 babies un- 
 der a year old died in New York in 1907 ; 
 1,315 died in Boston between June 1st 
 and November 30th of that same year — 
 in six months. In Fall River, at that 
 time, more than 300 out of 1,000 died — 
 nearly one-third. In New York, in five 
 years, over 23,000 children of all ages 
 died of measles, scarlet fever and diph- 
 theria combined, and in the same time 
 over 26,000 babies under two years died 
 of diarrheal diseases. Out of 1,91:3 
 cases of these infantile diseases, in New 
 York, only three per cent were breast- 
 fed. 
 
 Now, ladies, this class of diseases 
 comes from bacteria, and the bacteria 
 come, in the vast majority of cases, 
 from the milk. You see, the bottle-fed 
 baby does not get its supply directly 
 from the source, as when fed by its 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 151 
 
 mother; between the Cow and the Baby 
 stands the Milkman. The Milkman is 
 not a mother. I really believe that if 
 mothers ran the milk business they 
 would not be willing to poison other 
 women's babies even to make money for 
 their own ! 
 
 The producer and distributer of milk 
 has small thought for the consumers' 
 interests. To protect the consumer, the 
 law now provides the ]\Iilk Inspector. 
 But the Milk Inspector has on one side 
 a few alert business men, often ready to 
 pay well to protect their interests, and 
 on the other the great mass of apathetic 
 citizens, who do not take the trouble to 
 protect their own. 
 
 The discussion to-day is in the hope 
 of rousing this club to see the vital im- 
 portance of pure milk for our children, 
 and to urge its members to use their in- 
 fluence to secure it. 
 
 By the kind permission of your presi- 
 dent I have brought with me a resident 
 of a less fortunate part of the town, 
 that she may give you a personal experi- 
 ence. ]\Irs. O'Shane, will you please 
 come to the platform? (The little wo- 
 man in black rises, hestitates, sits down 
 again. ) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Won't you please 
 make room, ladies? (She comes down 
 and escorts Mrs. O'Shane to platform. 
 Airs. O'Shane much agitated.) 
 
 Dr. Strong — Brace up, Mrs. O'Shane. 
 It's for little Patsy's sake, you know. 
 He's gone, but there are many more. 
 
 Mrs. O'Shane — Indade there are, 
 thank Hiven ! It's not too late for the 
 others! The street's full ov thim ! If 
 ye please, ladies, did any of you ever 
 lose a child? 
 
 Mrs. Carroll (coming to her and 
 taking her hand)^I have, Mrs. O'Shane. 
 (Sits again.) 
 
 Mrs. O'Shane — There's many, I don't 
 doubt. But ye have the consolation of 
 knowin' that your children had all done 
 that could be done for thim. An' ours 
 dies on us every summer — such a many 
 of thim dies — an' we can't help it. They 
 used to tell us 'twas the Hand 'o God, 
 and then they said 'twas the hot weather, 
 and now they're preachin' it to us 
 everywhere that 'tis the milk does it! 
 The hot weather is bad, because thim 
 things that's in the milk shwarms thicker 
 
 and faster — thim little bugs that kills 
 our babies. ... If ye could have 
 seen my little Patsy ! He was the han'- 
 somest child, an' the strongest! Walkin' 
 he was — and him hardly a year old ! 
 An' he was all I had — an' me a widder ! 
 An', of course, I took the best milk I 
 could get ; but all the milk in our parts 
 comes from the Trust — an' sisteen cents 
 a quart for thim fancy brands I could 
 not pay. An', just think of it — even if 
 I could, there's not enough of that sort 
 to go around! There's so many of us! 
 We have no choice, and we have no 
 money to pay for the extras, an' we 
 must give our babies the milk that is 
 sold to us — an' they die ! . . . 
 
 I know I should care most for the 
 hundreds an' thousands of thim — an' for 
 Mrs. Casey's twins that died in a week 
 last summer, an' three of Mrs. Flah- 
 arty's, an' even thim little blackies on 
 Bay street ; but I care the most for my 
 Little Patsy — havin' but the wan ! 
 Ladies, if you could have seen him! The 
 hair on his head was that soft ! — an' all 
 in little rings o' curls ! An' his cheeks 
 like roses — before he took sick; an' his 
 little feet was that pretty — an' he'd kick 
 out so strong and bold with them! An' 
 he could stand up, and he was beginning 
 to hold on the chairs like — an' he'd catch 
 me by the skirts an' look up at me with 
 such a smile — an' pull on me he would, 
 an' say Mah ! J\Iah ! An' what had I 
 to give him but the milk? And the milk 
 killed him. ... I beg your pardon, 
 ladies, but it breaks my heart! (She 
 cries. Mrs. Carroll comforts her, cry- 
 ing too. Many handkerchiefs out. Mrs. 
 Carroll rises up, repressing emotion.) 
 
 ]\Irs. Carroll — Ladies, we will now 
 hear from our new Inspector, Mr. Ar- 
 nold. (Mr. Arnold conies forward and 
 boii's.) 
 
 Mr. Arnold — I fear cold facts will 
 make but little impression after this 
 moving appeal. Mrs. O'Shane has given 
 you the main points in the case. ]\Iost 
 people are poor. Most milk is poor. And 
 the poorest milk goes to the poorest peo- 
 ple. The community must protect itself. 
 The Inspector has no power except to 
 point out defects in the supply. Action 
 must be taken to enforce the law, and 
 unless the public does its duty there is 
 often no action taken. (Reads from 
 
152 
 
 Something To Vote For 
 
 paper.) Dr. Strong has given you some 
 figures as to the mortahty among babies. 
 There is also a heavy death rate for 
 adults from contaminated milk, as in the 
 case of the typhoid fever outbreak in 
 Stamford, Conn., in 1895, when 160 
 cases were reported in nine days, 147 of 
 which had all used milk from one dairy- 
 man. In about six weeks 386 cases 
 were reported ; of these 352 took milk 
 from that one dealer, and four more got 
 it from him indirectly. His dairy was 
 closed, and in two weeks the outbreak 
 had practically subsided. 
 
 Typhoid fever, scarlet fever and dip- 
 theria, as well as many less common dis- 
 eases, are spread by infected milk. 
 
 The inspection service watches both 
 the producer and distributor; examining 
 the dairy farm as to the health of the 
 cattle, the nature of their surroundings, 
 the care given them, the methods of 
 milking, bottling, and so on; and look- 
 ing to the milkmen in each step of handl- 
 ing, carriage and delivery. 
 
 In judging milk there are three main 
 questions to be considered : Its compara- 
 tive quality as good milk ( the percent- 
 age of butter-fats, etc.) ; its cleanliness 
 (dirty milk is always likely to carry dis- 
 ease) ; and its freedom from adultera- 
 tion — from the primative pump-water 
 and starch down to the subtler and more 
 dangerous commercial methods of to- 
 day. 
 
 I have been asked to show you a sim- 
 ple test or two — such as might be used 
 at home. These do not require chemical 
 or bacteriological analysis, a microscope 
 or a lactometer ; merely a fine cloth 
 {produces it) and a little iodine {pro- 
 duces that). 
 
 {The ladies lean forzuard eagerly. Mr. 
 Billings looks indifferent.) 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Please understand, 
 ladies, that neither of these tests proves 
 anything absolutely harmful. I feel ex- 
 tremely awkward in testing a bottle of 
 the Billings Company milk in the pres- 
 ence of Mr. Billings. Please remember 
 that the Billings Company has many 
 supply dairies. If this one bottle should 
 not prove first-class it is no direct re- 
 proach to your guest. 
 
 Mr. Billings — Ladies, I do not ask 
 any excuses. The Billings Company is 
 reliable. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — We have every con- 
 fidence in this milk, Mr. Billings ; that 
 is why I asked for the test. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — May I ask for another 
 vessel — a pitcher or milk bottle? 
 
 {Mrs. Carroll rings. Enter Louise, 
 r.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Bring another pitcher, 
 Louise, and an empty milk bottle — 
 clean. ( Exit Louise, r., and returns 
 with them, r., ivhile Mr. Arnold con- 
 tinues.) 
 
 AIr. Arnold — Only two things are to 
 be decided by this little test — whether 
 the milk is clean, and whether it has 
 starch in it. If it is clean milk, accord- 
 ing to our standard, there will be but a 
 slight smear on the cloth when it is 
 strained. {He puts cloth over top of 
 pitcher, pushing it dozvn inside, and 
 fastens it zvith string or rubber band; 
 then solemnly pours in most of the milk. 
 Buzz among ladies.) 
 
 Mr. Arnold — While this is straining, 
 I will apply the iodine test to what re- 
 mains in the bottle. If there is starch 
 in it, it will turn blue. {Pours zvater 
 from a glass into the bottle, adds a fezv 
 drops of iodine, shakes it, holds it tip be- 
 fore them. It is blue.) 
 
 Mrs. W., Mrs. B., Mrs. G. {together) 
 —Oh ! Look at that ! Just think of it ! 
 
 {Mr. Billings much confused, but un- 
 able to escape.) 
 
 Mr. Arnold — I'm afraid one of the 
 supplying dairymen thins his milk and 
 whitens it. Starch is not dangerous. 
 Dirt is. We will now examine our 
 strainer. {Holds up cloth. A heavy, 
 dark deposit is shozvn. There is a tense 
 silence.) 
 
 Mrs. O'Shane {suddenly rising up) 
 That's what killed my Patsy! {Points 
 at Mr. Billings.) An' 'twas him that did 
 it! {Commotion.) 
 
 Mr. Billings (rising) — Ladies, I de- 
 mand to be heard ! You have all known 
 me for years. Most of you take my 
 milk. You know it is good. There is 
 some mistake; that is not the milk that 
 should have been delivered here. 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Evidently not. 
 
 Mrs. O'Shane — No! 'Tis not the 
 milk for the rich — 'tis the milk for the 
 poor ! 
 
 Mr. Billings — Ladies, I protest ! My 
 standing in this community — my years 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 153 
 
 of service — ought to give me your con- 
 fidence long enough to look into this 
 matter. I must find out from which of 
 my suppliers this inferior milk has come. 
 We will have a thorough overhauling, I 
 assure you. I had no idea any such milk 
 was being handled by us. 
 
 Mr. Arnold — Then why did you give 
 me this bill? {Shozvs marked bill.) This 
 was handed to me a few moments ago 
 by Mr. Billings to ensure my giving him 
 a favorable test. It is the first time I 
 ever held a bribe — even for evidence. 
 
 Dr. Strong (coming forzvard) — 
 Ladies, I wish to clear Mr. Arnold of 
 even a moment's suspicion. I knew the 
 Milk Trust would not bear inspection, so 
 I urged Mr. Arnold to take the money, 
 if it was oft'ered, and bring it out in evi- 
 dence. There it is. 
 
 AIr. Billings — I suspected as much ! 
 This is admitted to be a conspiracy be- 
 tween our new doctor and our new in- 
 spector. But I trust, ladies, that more 
 than the word of two strangers will be 
 required to condemn an old friend and 
 fellow-citizen. 
 
 Dr. Strong — I gave you that bill, Mr. 
 Billings ; it's the one you changed for 
 me just now. That much of a conspir- 
 acy I admit. 
 
 Mr. Billings — So you and your ac- 
 complice had it all framed up to knife 
 me ! And is your word and his — a man 
 whose very admission proves him a venal 
 scoundrel — to stand against mine? Do 
 you think I had but one hundred-dollar 
 bill about me? 
 
 Dr. Stiiong — I doubt if you had more 
 than one with a red mark in the middle 
 
 of the top — on both sides! {Mrs. Car- 
 roll suddenly takes up bill and examines 
 it. Rises.) 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — It was a painful sur- 
 prise to find the quality of milk which 
 has been served to me, but it is more 
 painful to see that it was evidently 
 known to be bad. Ladies, I saw Dr. 
 Strong mark that bill. I saw her give it 
 to him in change for smaller ones. 
 
 Mrs. O'Shane — Sure, an' I saw him 
 pass it to the man ! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — Ladies, if you will 
 kindly move a little I think Air. Billings 
 would be glad to pass out. (They make 
 "ccay for him and he goes out, turns at 
 door and shakes fist at Mr. Arnold.) 
 
 Mr. Billings — You'll lose your job, 
 yotmg man ! I have some power in this 
 town ! 
 
 Mrs. Carroll — And so have I, Mr. 
 Billings. I'll see that Mr. Arnold keeps 
 his place. We need him. You said this 
 club could carry the town ; that we wo- 
 men could do whatever we wanted to 
 here — with our "influence" ! Now we 
 see what our "influence" amounts to ! 
 Rich or poor, we are all helpless together 
 unless we wake up to the danger and 
 protect ourselves. That's what the bal- 
 lot is for, ladies — to protect our homes ! 
 To protect our children ! To protect the 
 children of the poor ! I'm willing to vote 
 now! I'm glad to vote now! I've got 
 something to vote for! Friends, sisters, 
 all who are in favor of woman suffrage 
 and pure milk say Aye ! 
 
 (Clubzvomen all rise and wave their 
 Jiandker chiefs, zvith cries of "Aye!" 
 "Aye!") curtain. 
 
 A DIET UNDESIRED 
 
 He was set to keep a flock of sheep. 
 
 And they seemed to him too slow ; 
 
 So he took great pains to improve their brains 
 
 With food to make them grow. 
 
 But they would not eat the high-spiced meat 
 For all that he could say; 
 
 His scorn was wasted and the food untasted- 
 P'or the sheep weren't made that way ! 
 
 He would make them take his good beefsteak ! 
 So he raged day after day ; 
 But his anger deep was lost on the sheej 
 I'or they were not made that way ! 
 
154 
 
 HAPPINESS AND RELIGION 
 
 THE consolations of religion" have 
 been offered to us with age long 
 reiteration. Persons who were 
 healthy and happy, and so felt 
 no need of consolation, were apt to be 
 similarly indifferent to religion ; and those 
 who labored to convert them were 
 obliged to fall back on gloomy prog- 
 nostications, saying, "One of these days 
 trouble will come to you ; then you will 
 feel the need of religion." 
 
 This was an unfortunate association 
 of ideas, for no person likes to antici- 
 pate misery. There is an attitude 
 among some Socialists closely akin to 
 the above, they holding that poverty 
 must increase until, by some social 
 alchemy, extreme unhappiness drives 
 men into Socialism. 
 
 Increase of poverty is considered to 
 lead to Socialism as increase of misery 
 to religion, and in both cases the effect 
 on an average mind is one of preferred 
 postponement. If one can avoid the 
 misery, why bother with religion? If 
 one can avoid the poverty, why bother 
 with Socialism ? Perhaps the average 
 mind is not wise in its feelings, but it 
 is here to be dealt with none the less. 
 
 It is true that a satisfying religion 
 is "a very present help in time of trou- 
 ble." If we know that the general 
 management of things is good, we can 
 stand a temporary personal mishap 
 with equanimity. 
 
 But this is by no means the main 
 use of one's basic faith. If it were, 
 if the chief power of religion was as a 
 solace, a comforter, a hope and promise 
 for the future to those whose present 
 is miserable, then it would lose its hold 
 as the happiness of the world increased- 
 If the advance of Socialism were best 
 promoted by the advance of poverty, 
 then it would be hindered by the gen- 
 eral gain in wealth. 
 
 The appeal of Socialism is to each 
 of us, rich and poor, offering greater 
 happiness to all ; and the appeal of re- 
 ligion should be the same. Let us 
 have, not only the consolations of re- 
 ligion, but its congratulations ! What 
 has religion to say of happiness? 
 
 A successful God surely requires the 
 rich fulfillment of the known laws of 
 life, and that fulfillment means happi- 
 ness. We have in our range of con- 
 
 sciousness the whole scale of joy now 
 known, and unmeasured possibilities 
 beyond that. 
 
 Mere physical existance, rightly car- 
 ried out, means happiness. As healthy 
 animals we should experience, from 
 glad uprising to peaceful lying down, 
 the steady well being of quiet nerves, 
 normal digestion, and the orderly per- 
 formance of functions, each bringing 
 its own satisfaction. Just being heal- 
 thy makes life one long contentment, 
 and is itself a primal duty. What has 
 religion to say to a healthy person? 
 And what has a healthy person to say 
 to religion? It should be to us not a 
 sort of accident insurance, but an as- 
 surance of well being. 
 
 vSeeing life to be a good and pleasant 
 thing, the world a garden in the mak- 
 ing (not a garden lost!) and mankind 
 engaged in a majestic upward prog- 
 ress; finding ourselves personally com- 
 fortable and clearly on the road to 
 great joy, what place has religion in 
 such a scheme of things? 
 
 It has the most vital and important 
 position ; it is the great equalizer, di- 
 rector, promoter of all this blessedness. 
 It is not a mere system of therapeutics 
 for sick souls, but a science of practical 
 ps3^chology for well ones. 
 
 Religion should give to the mind a 
 clear, satisfying explanation of life, 
 not based on a hotly defended revela- 
 tion, but on common knowledge ; a 
 glad sense of assured respect for the 
 Central Power, of absolute confidence 
 in and enjoyment of it as a Working 
 Force, w^ell proven ; and lines of con- 
 duct laid out so clearly that any nor- 
 mal child could see why this is right 
 and that is wrong. 
 
 No vague mystery in this religion of 
 our children, but well-established 
 facts : requiring no stultification of the 
 intellect, but full use of our best in- 
 telligence ; no abnegation and surren- 
 der of the will, but the fullest exercise 
 of that vital power. 
 
 Such a religion recognizes happiness 
 as the norm of life, the health of the 
 soul ; and shows the way to it. Then 
 we shall not say, "Ah, wait till you are 
 in trouble ; then you will need relig- 
 ion!" but, "Ah, let us make you happy; 
 then you will appreciate religion!" 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 155 
 
 THE CRUX 
 
 chapter vi. 
 New Friends and Old. 
 
 There is hope till life is through, my dear! 
 
 And wonders never cease; 
 'Twould be too bad to be true, my dear, 
 
 If all one's swans were geese! 
 
 VIVIAN'S Startled cry of wel- 
 come was heard by Susie, 
 perched on the stairs with 
 several eager youths gathered 
 as close as might be about her, and 
 several pairs of hands helped her swift 
 descent to greet her brother. 
 
 ]\Iiss Orella, dropping Air. Dyke- 
 man's arm, came flying from the ball- 
 room. 
 
 "Oh Morton ! Morton ! When did you 
 come? Why didn't you let us know? 
 Oh, my dear boy !" 
 
 She haled him into their special par- 
 lor — took his hat away from him — 
 pulled out the most comfortable chair — 
 
 "Have you had supper? And to think 
 that we haven't a room for you ! But 
 there's to be one vacant — next week. 
 I'll see that there is. You shall have 
 my room, dear boy. Oh I am so glad 
 to see you !" 
 
 Susie gave him a sisterly hug, while 
 he kissed her, somewhat gingerly, on 
 the cheek ; and then perched herself on 
 the arm of a chair and gazed upon him 
 with affectionate interest. Vivian, her 
 arm around Susie, gazed also, busily 
 engaged in fitting present facts to past 
 memories. 
 
 Surely he had not looked just like 
 that! The Morton of her girlhood's 
 dream had a clear complexion, a bright 
 eye, a brave and gallant look — only the 
 voice was not different. 
 
 But here was Morton in present fact, 
 something taller, it seemed, and a good 
 deal heavier, well dressed in a rather 
 vivid way, and making merry over his 
 aunt's devotion. 
 
 "Well, if it doesn't seem like old 
 times to have Aunt 'Rella running 
 'round like a hen with her head cut off, 
 to wait on me." The simile was not 
 unjust, though certainly ungracious, 
 but his aunt was far too happy to re- 
 sent it. 
 
 "You sit right still !" she said. "I'll 
 
 go and bring you some supper. You 
 must be hungry." 
 
 "Now do sit down and hear to rea- 
 son, Auntie !" he said, reaching out a 
 detaining hand and pulling her into a 
 seat beside him. "I'm not hungry a 
 little bit ; had a good feed on the diner. 
 Never mind about the room — I don't 
 know how long I can stay — and I left 
 my grip at the Allen House anyway. 
 How well you're looking, Auntie ! I 
 declare I'd hardly have known you ! 
 And here's little Susie — a regular belle ! 
 And Vivian — don't suppose I dare call 
 you Vivian now. Miss Lane?" 
 
 Vivian gave a little embarrassed 
 laugh. If he had used her first name 
 she would never have noticed it. Now 
 that he asked her, she hardly knew 
 what answer to make, but presently 
 said : 
 
 "Why, of course, I always call you 
 Morton." 
 
 "Well, I'll come when you call me," 
 he cheerfully replied, leaning forward, 
 elbows on knees, and looking around 
 the pretty room. 
 
 "How well you're fixed here. Guess 
 it was a wise move, Aunt 'Rella. But 
 I'd never have dreamed you'd do it. 
 Your Dr. Bellair must have been a 
 powerful promoter to get you all out 
 here. I wouldn't have thought any- 
 body in Bainville could move — but me. 
 Why, there's Grandma, as I live !" and 
 he made a low bow. 
 
 Mrs. Pettigrew, hearing of his ar- 
 rival from the various would-be part- 
 ners of the two girls, had come to the 
 door and stood there regarding him 
 with a non-committal expression. At 
 this address she frowned perceptibly. 
 
 "My name is Mrs. Pettigrew, young 
 man. I've known you since you were 
 a scallawag in short pants, but I'm no 
 Grandma of yours." 
 
 "A thousand pardons! Please ex- 
 cuse me, Mrs. Pettigrew," he said with 
 exaggerated politeness. "\\^on't you 
 be seated?" And he set a chair for her 
 with a flourish. 
 
 "Thanks, no," she said. "I'll go 
 back" — and went back forthwith, at- 
 tended by Mr. Skee. 
 
156 
 
 The Crux 
 
 "One of these happy family re- 
 unions, ma'am?" he asked with approv- 
 ing interest. "If there's one thing I 
 do admire, it's a happy surprise." 
 
 " 'Tis some of a surprise," Mrs. Pet- 
 tigrew admitted, and became rather 
 glum, in spite of Mr. Skee's undeniably 
 entertaining conversation. 
 
 "Some sort of a fandango going on?" 
 Morton asked after a few rather stiff 
 moments. "Don't let me interrupt? 
 On with the dance ! Let joy be uncon- 
 fined ! And if she must" — he looked 
 at Vivian, and went on somewhat 
 lamely — "dance, why not dance with 
 me? May I have the pleasure. Miss 
 Lane?" 
 
 "Oh, no," cried Miss Orella, "We'd 
 much rather be with you !" 
 
 "But I'd rather dance than talk, any 
 time," said he, and crooked his elbow 
 to' Vivian with an impressive bow. 
 
 Somewhat uncertain in her own 
 mind, and unwilling to again disap- 
 point Fordham Greer, who had already 
 lost one dance and was visibly waiting 
 for her in the hall, the girl hesitated; 
 but Susie said, "Go on, give htm part 
 of one. I'll tell Mr, Greer." So Vivian 
 took Morton's proffered arm and re- 
 turned to the floor. 
 
 She had never danced with him in 
 the old days ; no special memory was 
 here to contrast with the present; yet 
 something seemed vaguely wrong. He 
 danced well, but more actively than 
 she admired ; and during the rest of the 
 evening devoted himself to the various 
 ladies with an air of long usage. 
 
 She was glad when the dancing was 
 over and he had finally departed for 
 his hotel ; glad when Susie had at last 
 ceased chattering and dropped reluc- 
 tantly to sleep. 
 
 For a long time she lay awake try- 
 ing to straighten out things in her 
 mind and account to herself for the 
 sense of vague confusion which op- 
 pressed her. 
 
 Morton had come back ! That was 
 the prominent thing, of which she re- 
 peatedly assured herself. How often 
 she had looked forward to that mo- 
 ment, and felt in anticipation a vivid 
 joy. She had thought of it in a hun- 
 dred ways, always with pleasure, but 
 
 never in this particular way — among 
 so many strangers. 
 
 It must be that which confused her, 
 she thought, for she was extremely 
 sensitive to the attitude of those about 
 her. She felt an unspoken criticism of 
 Morton on the part of her new friends 
 in the house, and resented it, yet in 
 her own mind a faint comparison 
 would obtrude itself between his man- 
 ners and those of Jimmie Saunders or 
 Mr. Greer, for instance. The young 
 Scotchman she had seen regarding 
 Morton with an undisguised dislike; 
 and this she inwardly resented, even 
 while herself disliking his bearing to 
 his aunt — and to her grandmother. 
 
 It was all contradictory and unsatis- 
 fying, and she fell asleep saying over 
 to herself, "He has come back! He 
 has come back!" and trying to feel 
 happy. 
 
 Aunt Orella was happy at any rate. 
 She would not rest until her beloved 
 nephew was installed in the house, 
 practically turning out Mr. Gibbs in 
 order to accommodate him. Morton 
 protested, talked of business and of 
 having to go away at any time ; and 
 Mr. Gibbs, who still "mealed" with 
 them, secretly wished he would. 
 
 But Morton did not go away. It 
 was a long time since he had been 
 petted and waited on, and he enjoyed 
 it hugely, treating his aunt with a serio- 
 comic affection that was sometimes 
 funny, sometimes disagreeable. 
 
 At least Susie found it so. Her first 
 surprise over, she fell back on a fund 
 of sound common sense, strengthened 
 by present experience, and found a 
 good deal to criticise in her returned 
 brother. She was so young when he 
 left, and he had teased her so unmer- 
 cifully in those days, that her early 
 memories of him were rather mixed in 
 sentiment, and now he appeared, not 
 as the unquestioned idol of a manless 
 family in a well-nigh manless town, 
 but as one among many; and of those 
 many several were easily his superiors. 
 
 He was her brother, and she loved 
 him, of course ; but there were so many 
 wanting to be "brothers" if not more, 
 and they were so much more polite! 
 Morton petted, patronized and teased 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 157 
 
 her, and she took it all in good part, 
 as after the manner of brothers, but 
 his demeanor with other people was 
 not to her mind. 
 
 His adoring aunt, finding no fault 
 whatever with this well-loved nephew, 
 lavished upon him the affection of her 
 unused motherhood, and he seemed to 
 find it a patent joke, open to every- 
 one, that she should be so fond. 
 
 To this Mrs. Pettigrew took great 
 exception, and, indeed, to his general 
 walk and conversation. 
 
 "Fine boy — Rella's nephew!" she 
 said to Dr. Bellair late one night when, 
 seeing a light over her neighbor's tran- 
 som, she dropped in for a little chat. 
 Conversation seemed easier for her 
 here than in the atmosphere of Bain- 
 ville. 
 
 "Fine boy — eh? Nice complexion!" 
 
 Dr. Bellair was reading a heavy- 
 weight book, by a heavier weight spec- 
 ialist. She laid it down, took off her 
 eyeglasses, and rubbed them. 
 
 "Better not kiss him," she said. 
 
 "I thought as much I" said Grandma. 
 I thought as much! Huh!" 
 
 "Nice world, isn't it?" the doctor 
 suggested genially. 
 
 "Nothing the matter with the world, 
 that I know of," her visitor answered. 
 
 "Nice people, then — how's that?" 
 
 "Nothing the matter with the peo- 
 ple but foolishness — plain foolishness. 
 Good land ! Shall we never learn any- 
 thing !" 
 
 "Not till it's too late apparently," 
 the doctor gloomily agreed, turning 
 slowly in her swivel chair. "That boy 
 never was taught anything to protect 
 him. What did Rella know? Or for 
 that matter, what do any boys' fathers 
 and mothers know? Nothing, you'd 
 think. If they do, they won't teach it 
 to their children." 
 
 "Time they did !" said the old lady 
 decidedly. "High time they did ! It's 
 never too late to learn. I've learned 
 a lot out of you and your books, Jane 
 Bellair. Intersting reading! I don't 
 suppose you could give an absolute 
 opinion now, could you?' 
 
 "No," said Dr. Bellair gravely, "no, 
 I couldn't; not yet, anyway." 
 
 "Well, we've got to keep our eyes 
 
 open," Mrs. Pettigrew concluded. 
 "When I think of that girl of mine — " 
 
 "Yes — or any girl," the doctor added. 
 
 "You look out for any girl — that's 
 your business; I'll look out for mine — 
 if I can." 
 
 Mrs. Pettigrew's were not the only 
 eyes to scrutinize Morton Elder. 
 Through the peep hole in the swing 
 door to the kitchen, Jeanne Jeaune 
 watched him darkly with one hand on 
 her lean chest. 
 
 She kept her watch on whatever 
 went on in that dining room, and on 
 the two elderly waitresses whom she 
 had helped Miss Elder to secure when 
 the house filled up. They were rather 
 painfully imattractive, but seemed like- 
 ly to stay where no young and pretty 
 damsel could be counted on for a year. 
 Morton joked with perseverance about 
 their looks, and those who were most 
 devoted to Susie seemed to admire his 
 wit, while Vivian's special admirers 
 found it pointless in the extreme. 
 
 "Your waitresses are the limit, 
 Auntie," he said, "but the cook is all to 
 the good. Is she a plain cook or a hand- 
 some one?" 
 
 "Handsome is as handsome does, 
 young man," Mrs. Pettigrew pointedly 
 replied. "Mrs. Jones is a first class 
 cook and her looks are neither here nor 
 there." 
 
 "You fill me with curiosity," he re- 
 plied. "I must go out and make her 
 acquaintance. I always get solid with 
 the cook ; it's worth while." 
 
 The face at the peep hole darkened 
 and turned away with a biter and de- 
 termined look, and Master Theophile 
 was hastened at his work till his dim 
 intelligence wondered, and then blessed 
 with an unexpected cookie. 
 
 Vivian, Morton watched and fol- 
 lowed assiduously. She was much 
 changed from what he remembered — 
 the young, frightened, slender girl he 
 had kissed under the lilac bushes, a kiss 
 long since forgotten among many. 
 
 Perhaps the very number of his sub- 
 sequent acquaintances during a varied 
 and not markedly successful career in 
 the newer states made this type of New 
 England womanhood more marked. 
 Girls he had kno\vn of various sorts ; 
 
158 
 
 The Crux 
 
 women old and young had been kind 
 to him, for Morton had the rough good 
 looks and fluent manner which easily 
 find their way to the good will of many 
 female hearts; but this gentle refine- 
 ment of manner and delicate beauty 
 had a novel charm for him. 
 
 Sitting by his aunt at the table he 
 studied Vivian opposite ; he watched 
 her in their few quiet evenings to- 
 gether, under the soft lamplight on 
 Miss Elder's beloved "center table ;" 
 and studied her continually in the stim- 
 ulating presence of many equally de- 
 voted men. 
 
 All that was best in him was stirred 
 by her quiet grace, her reserved friend- 
 liness ; and the spur of rivalry was by 
 no means wanting. Both the girls had 
 their full share of masculine attention 
 in that busy houseful, each having her 
 own more particular devotees, and the 
 position of comforter to the others. 
 
 Morton became openly devoted to 
 Vivian, and followed her about, seeking 
 every occasion to be alone with her — 
 a thing difficult to accomplish. 
 
 "I don't ever get a chance to see 
 anything of you," he said. "Come on, 
 take a walk with me — won't you?" 
 
 "You can see me all day — practi- 
 cally," she answered. "It seems to me 
 that I never saw a man with so little 
 to do." 
 
 "Now that's too bad, Vivian ! Just 
 because a fellow's out of a job for a 
 while ! It isn't the first time, either ; 
 in my business you work like — like 
 anything, part of the time, and then get 
 laid off. I work hard enough when I'm 
 at it." 
 
 "Do you like it — that kind of work?" 
 the girl asked. 
 
 They were sitting in the family par- 
 lor, but the big hall was as usual well 
 occupied, and some one or more of the 
 boarders always eager to come in. Miss 
 Elder at this moment had departed for 
 special conference vAth her cook, and 
 Susie was at the theatre with Jimmie 
 Saunders. Fordham Greer had asked 
 Vivian, as had Morton also, but she 
 declined both on the ground that she 
 didn't like that kind of play. Mrs. 
 Pettigrew, being joked too persistently 
 about her fondness for "long whist," 
 had retired to her room — but then, her 
 
 room was divided from the parlor only 
 by a thin partition and a door v/ith a 
 most inefficacious latch. 
 
 "Come over here by the fire," said 
 Morton, "and I'll tell you all about it." 
 
 He seated himself on a sofa, comfort- 
 ably adjacent to the fireplace, but Viv- 
 ian preferred a low rocker. 
 
 "I suppose you mean travelling — 
 and selling goods?" he pursued. "Yes, 
 I like it. There's lots of change — and 
 you meet people. I'd hate to be shut 
 up in an office." 
 
 "But do you — get anywhere with it? 
 Is there any outlook for you? Any- 
 thing worth doing?" 
 
 "There's a good bit of money to be 
 made, if you mean that ; that is, if a 
 fellow's a good salesman. I'm no 
 slouch myself, when I feel in the mood. 
 But it's easy come, easy go, you see. 
 And it's uncertain. There are times 
 like this, with nothing doing." 
 
 "I didn't mean money, altogether," 
 said the girl meditatively, "but the 
 work itself ; I don't see any future for 
 you." 
 
 Morton was pleased with her inter- 
 est. Reaching between his knees he 
 seized the edge of the small sofa and 
 dragged it a little towards her, quite 
 unconscious that the act was distaste- 
 ful to her. 
 
 Though twenty-five years old, Viv- 
 ian was extremely young in many 
 ways, and her introspection had spent 
 itself in tending the inner shrine of his 
 early image. That ikon was now jar- 
 ringly displaced by his insistent pres- 
 ence, and she could not satisfy herself 
 yet as to whether the change pleased 
 or displeased her. Again and again his 
 manner antagonized her, but his visible 
 devotion carried an undeniable appeal, 
 and his voice stirred the deep well of 
 emotion in her heart. 
 
 "Look here, Vivian," he said, "you've 
 no idea how it goes through me to have 
 you speak like that ! You see I've been 
 knocking around here for all this time, 
 and I have'nt had a soul to take an 
 interest. A fellow needs the society of 
 good women — like you." 
 
 It is an old appeal, and always reach- 
 es the mark. To any woman it is a 
 compliment, and to a young girl,, 
 doubly alluring. As she looked at him,. 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 159 
 
 the very things she most disliked, his 
 too free anner, his coarsened com- 
 plexion, a certain look about the eyes, 
 suddenly assumed a new interest as 
 proofs of his loneliness and lack of 
 right companionship. What Mrs. St. 
 Cloud had told her of the enobling in- 
 fluence of a true woman flashed upon 
 her mind. 
 
 "You see, I had no mother," he said 
 simply — "and Aunt Rella spoiled 
 me — " He looked now like the boy 
 she used to know. 
 
 "Of course I ought to have behaved 
 better," he admitted. "I was ungrate- 
 ful — I can see it now. But it did seem 
 to me I couldn't stand that town a day 
 longer !" 
 
 She could sympathize with this feel- 
 ing, and showed it. 
 
 "Then when a fellow knocks around 
 as I have so long, he gets to where he 
 doesn't care a hang for anything. See- 
 ing you again makes a lot of difference, 
 Vivian. I think, perhaps — I could take 
 a new start." 
 
 "Oh do ! Do !" she said eagerly. 
 You're young enough, Morton. You 
 can do anything if you'll make up your 
 mind to it." 
 
 "And you'll help me?" 
 
 "Of course I'll help you — if I can," 
 said she. 
 
 A feeling of sincere remorse for 
 wasted opportunities rose in the young 
 man's mind ; also, in the presence of 
 this pure-eyed girl, a sense of shame for 
 his previous habits. He walked to the 
 window, his hands in his pockets, and 
 looked out blankly for a moment. 
 
 "A fellow does a lot of things he 
 shouldn't," he began, clearing his 
 throat; but she met him more than half 
 way with the overflowing generosity of 
 youth and ignorance : 
 
 "Never mind what you've done, Mor- 
 ton — you're going to do differently 
 now ! Susie'll be so proud of you — and 
 Aunt Orella!" 
 
 "And you?" He turned upon her 
 suddenly. 
 
 "Oh — I? Of course! I shall be very 
 proud of my old friend." 
 
 She met his eyes bravely, with a 
 lovely look of hope and courage, and 
 again his heart smote him. 
 
 "I hope you will," he said and 
 
 straightened his broad shoulders man- 
 fully. 
 
 "Morton Elder!" cried his aunt, bust- 
 ling in with deep concern in her voice, 
 "What's this I hear about you're hav- 
 ing a sore throat?" 
 
 "Nothing, I hope," said he cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 "Now. Morton" — Vivian showed 
 new solicitude — "you know you have 
 got a sore throat ; Susie told me." 
 
 "Well, I wish she'd held her ton- 
 gue," he protested. "It's nothing at 
 all — be all right in a jiffy. No, I won't 
 take any of your fixings. Auntie." 
 
 "I want Dr. Bellair to look at it, 
 anyhow." said his aunt, anxiously. 
 "She'll know if it's diptheretic or any- 
 thing. She's coming in." 
 
 "She can just go out again." he said 
 with real annoyance. "If there's any- 
 thing I've no use for it's a woman 
 doctor !" 
 
 "Oh hush, hush!" cried Vivian — too 
 late. 
 
 "Don't apoligize," said Dr. Belliar 
 from her doorway. "Who's got a sore 
 least offended. Indeed, I had rather 
 surmised that that was your attitude , I 
 didn't come in to prescribe, but to find 
 Mrs. Pettigrew." 
 
 "Want me?" inquired the old lady 
 from her doorway. "Who'se got a sore 
 throat?" 
 
 "Morton has," Vivian explained, 
 "and he won't let Aunt Rella — why 
 where is she?" 
 
 Miss Elder had gone out as suddenly 
 as she had entered. 
 
 "Camphor's good for sore throat," 
 Mrs. Pettigrew volunteered. "Three or 
 four drops on a piece of sugar. Is it 
 the swelled kind, or the kind that 
 smarts?" 
 
 "Oh — Halifax !" exclaimed Morton, 
 disgustedly. "It isn't any kind. I 
 haven't a sore throat." 
 
 "Camphor's good for cold sores ; you 
 have one of them anyhow," the old lady 
 persisted, producing a little bottle and 
 urging it upon Morton. "Just keep it 
 wet with camphor as often as you think 
 of it, and it'll go away." 
 
 Vivian looked on, interested and 
 sympathetic, but ISIorton put his hand 
 to his lip and backed away. 
 
 "If you ladies don't stop trying to 
 
160 
 
 The Crux 
 
 doctor me, I'll clear out tomorrow, so 
 there !" 
 
 This appalling threat was fortunately- 
 unheard by his aunt, who popped in 
 again at this moment, dragging Dr. 
 Hale with her. Dr. Bellair smiled 
 quietly to herself. 
 
 ''I wouldn't tell him what I wanted 
 him for, or he wouldn't have come, 
 I'm sure — doctors are so funny," said 
 Miss Elder, breathlessly, "but here he 
 is. Now, Dr. Hale, here's a foolish 
 boy who won't listen to reason, and I'm 
 real worried about him. I want you to 
 look at his throat." 
 
 Dr. Hale glanced briefly at Morton's 
 angry face. 
 
 "The patient seems to be of age. Miss 
 Elder; and, if you'll excuse me, does 
 not seem to have authorized this call." 
 
 "My affectionate family are bound to 
 have me an invalid," Morton explained. 
 "I'm in imminent danger of hot baths, 
 cold presses, mustard plasters, aconite, 
 belladonna and quinine — and if I can 
 once reach my hat — " 
 
 He sidled to the door and fled in 
 mock terror. 
 
 "Thank you for your good inten- 
 tions. Miss Elder," Dr. Hale remarked 
 dryly. "You can bring water to the 
 horse, but you can't make him drink 
 it, you see." 
 
 "Now that that young man has gone, 
 we might have a game of whist," Mrs. 
 Pettigrew suggested, looking not ill- 
 pleased. 
 
 "For which you do not need me in 
 the least," and Dr. Hale was about to 
 leave, but Dr. Bellair stopped him. 
 
 "Don't be an everlasting Winter 
 woodchuck, Dick! Sit down and play ; 
 do be good. I've got to see old Mrs. 
 Graham yet ; she refuses to go to sleep 
 without it — knowing I'm so near. By 
 
 Mrs. Pettigrew insisted on playing 
 
 with Miss Elder, so Vivian had the 
 questionable pleasure of Dr. Hale as a 
 partner. He was an expert, used to 
 frequent and scientific play, and by no 
 means patient with the girl's mistakes. 
 
 He made no protest at a lost trick, 
 but explained briefly between hands, 
 what she should have remembered and 
 how the cards lay, till she grew quite 
 discouraged. 
 
 Her game was but mediocre, played 
 only to oblige ; and she never could see 
 why people cared so much about a 
 mere pastime. Pride came to her res- 
 cue at last ; the more he criticised, the 
 more determined she grew to profit by 
 all this advice ; but her mind would 
 wander now and then to Morton, to his 
 young life so largely wasted, it ap- 
 peared, and to what hope might lie be- 
 fore him. Could she be the help and 
 stimulus he seemed to think? How 
 much did he mean by asking her to 
 help him? 
 
 "Why waste a thirteenth trump on 
 your partner's thirteenth card?" Dr. 
 Hale was asking. 
 
 She flushed a deep rose color and 
 lifted appealing eyes to him. 
 
 "Do forgive me; my mind was else- 
 where." 
 
 "Will you not invite it to return?" 
 he suggested drily. 
 
 He excused himself after a few 
 games, and the girl at least was glad to 
 have him go. She wanted to be alone 
 with her thoughts. 
 
 Mrs. Pettigrew, sitting unaccount- 
 ably late at her front window, watched 
 the light burn steadily in the small 
 office at the opposite corner. Presently 
 she saw a familiar figure slip in there, 
 and, after a considerable stay, come 
 out quietly, cross the street, and let 
 himself in at their door. 
 
 "Huh!" said Mrs. Pettigrew. 
 {To be continued^ 
 
 STONES 
 
 Let those cold stones that mark old bones 
 
 Be ground to dust and spread; 
 
 So grass shall grow more green below. 
 
 Trees more green overhead, 
 
 And youth and love laugh on above 
 
 Those well- forgotten dead. 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 161 
 
 THE WILD OATS OF THE SOUL 
 
 WHEN Humanity was young, 
 very young, its new-born 
 Consciousness loomed large 
 within ; and each Individual 
 naturally supposed this mighty feel- 
 ing to be his own. 
 
 He called it His Soul. 
 
 He felt it to be different from the 
 Body, which he called Himself; from 
 the group of inherited reflexes he 
 called His Heart ; different even from 
 those Percepts and Processes he called 
 His Mind. 
 
 It was a big uneasy pushing thing, 
 now up, now down ; patently at vari- 
 ance with the personal activities he 
 called Life, always irritating him with 
 a desire for something farther. 
 
 To feed, to quiet, to satisfy this 
 young Soul, the mind of man began to 
 spin whole worlds of Theory, religious 
 and emotional — it did not want to 
 think, it wanted to feel, to feel strongly. 
 No matter how gross and cruel were 
 the Religions he first invented, the 
 ardent boisterous Young Soul plunged 
 gaily in, and lived them to the full. 
 
 In passionate ecstacy of self-torture, 
 in life-long immolation of anguished 
 self-surrender, and in merciless op- 
 pression of all who dared to differ, 
 this huge force poured itself out re- 
 sistlessly. 
 
 There were no limits to the excesses 
 of the wild Young Soul. Our poor 
 instincts were as nothing in its path ; 
 all common duties, all common plea- 
 sures, all common relations it ate in 
 a consuming fire; and those who had 
 not so much Soul, bowed down to those 
 who had. 
 
 But the Soul, growing from the care- 
 less cruelty of infancy to the period of 
 Ambition and Romance, outgrew its 
 taste for mutilation and torture, and 
 found new channels for its growing 
 powers. 
 
 Into the swelling hearts of Kings 
 and Conquerors it poured itself, first 
 in a mad rage for Conquest, then in 
 the growing glory of Statesmanship. 
 
 In art it found a fascinating medium 
 of expression; and to this day streams 
 fitfully along in form and color, sound 
 
 and motion ; though not so nobly as 
 of yore. 
 
 But its favorite outlet now was 
 along lines of love, not through the 
 still-locked doors of wide human af- 
 fection, but in the unbroken sweep of 
 love for an idea. 
 
 Urged by the growing demands of 
 our Great Prisoner, we built for it new 
 ideas of God; God as a Person, lov- 
 ing us and pining for our love. 
 
 Then rose the Soul and flowed forth 
 into space, triumphant. 
 
 Its gathering power, reflected from 
 our lives, poured in wide waves of 
 spiritual passion ; while we, relieved of 
 its compelling presence, were free to 
 plod along old easy paths of primitive 
 self-interest. 
 
 In those minds which could not erect 
 the God-idea to a sufficiently attract- 
 ive height and intensity (and they 
 were many), the one next to it was the 
 idea of sublimating the love of men 
 and women. 
 
 Allied and interwoven are these two 
 lines, and the still childish Soul, hasty 
 and undiscerning, rushed into both 
 with equal ardor ; spending hot per- 
 sonal devotion upon God ; and making 
 an exacting worship out of human 
 love ; with failure in either branded 
 apostasy. 
 
 Soul-driven man, in mad excesses 
 of emotion, worshipping now God and 
 now Woman (seldom both at once), 
 has filled wide fields of history with 
 the fruitless sheaves of the Wild Oats 
 of the Soul. 
 
 His passionate adoration of God re- 
 sulted in magnificent churches and as 
 magnificent sentiments, but did little 
 to promote the work of social de- 
 velopment. 
 
 His passoniate adoration of \\'oman 
 (that is of his woman), has resulted in 
 forming a creature not magnificent but 
 pitiful, and all his crimson glory of 
 wild worship has not prevented him 
 from degrading and exploiting her. 
 
 The hot-headed ill-directed young 
 Soul, pushing violently and irregularly 
 along, has mostly spent its force upon 
 wrong impulses. 
 
162 
 
 That Obvious Purpose 
 
 Now new ideas of God have come to 
 us, and new ideas of Man, and we 
 begin to see the normal use of our 
 Great Common Power in lines of 
 natural living. 
 
 This is Our Soul, not mine and 
 yours ; its force is The Force of the 
 Universe. 
 
 It is not meant to "rest," it does 
 not need to be "saved," its one legiti- 
 mate demand is to be Used. 
 
 God pushes — we must act. No one 
 love can satisfy the Soul ; only to feel 
 and fill them all ; and then to Serve ; 
 no frenzied emotion is this Soul's life, 
 but strong and steady action; its vast 
 power of Feeling used in vast fields of 
 Doing. 
 
 The Soul must settle into happy 
 orderly relations with the world. 
 
 A reformed Soul makes the best 
 Social Servant. 
 
 THAT OBVIOUS PURPOSE 
 
 DR. SARGENT, of the Depart- 
 ment of Physical Culture at 
 Harvard, is again quoted on 
 the subject of the strength of 
 women. He says — or is said to ha^^^e 
 said, in this report — that in the sense 
 of being more enduring, women are su- 
 perior to men ; and then falls back on 
 that common and ancient androcentric 
 idea : "It is obvious that women are 
 built primarily with a single fixed and 
 definite purpose in view. This is the 
 bearing of children. Other characteris- 
 tics which can be ascribed to women 
 in general, radiate from this one pri- 
 mordial characteristic." 
 
 Quite possibly Dr. Sargent is misrep- 
 resented by the reporter, but the idea 
 is thrust forth again, as it has been so 
 many times before. 
 
 Is it not time that persons with some 
 knowledge of biology began to acknowl- 
 edge that this old idea is wrong? 
 It is true, of course, that females, as 
 such, are modified to the reproduction 
 of their species ; but so are males. It 
 is obvious that men are built primarily 
 with a single fixed and definite pur- 
 pose, and that other special male char- 
 acteristics radiate from this primordial 
 one — often painfully obvious. 
 
 It is equally obvious that men and 
 women have a preponderating array of 
 common human characteristics which 
 have no relation whatever to the pri- 
 mordial one. The erect posture, for in- 
 stance ; the degree of intellect common 
 to human beings; the instinct of w^ork- 
 manship ; the interest in scientific truth 
 and the pursuit of knowledge ; the love 
 
 of nature, of art, of amusement — in 
 short, all human characteristics ; these 
 belong to us as a race, as human crea- 
 tures, not as sexes. 
 
 If women had no other relation to 
 life than that of a queen bee, this cease- 
 less insistance on their feminine func- 
 tions might be justified, but, being 
 what they are, it is only explicable as 
 a piece of androcentric prejudice pure 
 and simple. 
 
 If some great overturn in public 
 thought and feeling should come to 
 pass so that the eyes of the world be- 
 came fixed with staring intensity on 
 the maleness of men ; if all education, 
 literature and art rang the changes 
 upon it continually, and even science 
 came solemnly along with platitudes 
 about the obviousness of masculine 
 characteristics, there would be a prompt 
 and just rebellion on the part of men. 
 
 Women are more patient. We have 
 been discussed and studied, honored 
 and despised, rewarded and punished 
 for thousands of years as females, al- 
 ways females ; and many of us have 
 grown to accept the male idea of us — 
 that we are nothing else. 
 
 Several millions of unmarried 
 women now filling useful and honored 
 places in the world, leading virtuous 
 and contented lives, could give valua- 
 ble testimony as to whether their exis- 
 tence is a verifiable fact^ or whether 
 they really did expire and vanish on 
 failure to fulfill that "single primordial 
 purpose." Men, living similarly, would 
 perhaps feel as much lack in the 
 "primordial purpose" as do women. 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 163 
 
 MOVING THE MOUNTAIN 
 
 Synopsis: John Robertson, falling over a 
 precipice in Tibet, loses all recollection for 
 thirty years. He is found by his sister, re- 
 covers his memory, and returns home. On 
 the way he learns of great changes in his na- 
 tive land, and is not pleased. Arriving, he 
 cannot deny some improvements, but is still 
 dissatisfied. New food and new housekeeping 
 arrangements impress him ; better buildings 
 and great saving in money. As man to man 
 his new brother-in-law tells him of the change 
 in women and its effect on men. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OUT OF the mass of information 
 offered by my new family and 
 the pleasant friends we met, 
 together with the books and 
 publications profusely piling" around 
 me, I felt it necessary to make a spec- 
 ies of digest for my own consideration. 
 This I submitted to Nellie, Owen, and 
 one or two others, adding suggestions 
 and corrections ; and thus established 
 in my own mind a coherent view of 
 what had happened. 
 
 In the first place, as Owen repeat- 
 edly assured me, nothing was done — 
 finished — brought to static perfection. 
 
 "Thirty years isn't much, you see," 
 he said cheerfully. "I dare say if you'd 
 been here all along you wouldn't think 
 it was such a great advance. We have 
 removed some obvious and utterly un- 
 necessary evils, and cleared the ground 
 for new beginnings ; but what we are 
 going to do is the exciting thing! 
 
 "Now you think it is so wonderful 
 that we have no poverty. We think 
 it is still more wonderful that a world 
 of even partially sane people could 
 have borne poverty so long." 
 
 We naturally discussed this point a 
 good deal, and they brought up a little 
 party of the new economists to en- 
 lighten me — Dr. Harkness, sociologist; 
 Mr. Alfred Brown, Department of Pro- 
 duction; Mrs. Allerton of the Local 
 Transportation Bureau ; and a young 
 fellow named Pike, who had written a 
 little book on "Distinctive Changes of 
 Three Decades," which I found very 
 useful. 
 
 "It was such a simple matter, after 
 all, you see," the Sociologist explained 
 to me, in an amiable class-room man- 
 ner. 
 
 "Suppose now you were considering 
 the poverty of one family, an isolated 
 family, sir. Now, if this family was 
 poor, it would be due to the limitations 
 of the individual or of the environ- 
 ment. Limitations of the individual 
 would cover inefficiency, false theory 
 of industry, ill-judged division of labor, 
 poor system of production, or misuse 
 of product. Limitation of environment 
 would, of course, apply to climate, soil, 
 natural products, etc. No amount of 
 health, intelligence or virtue could 
 make Iceland rich — if it was complete- 
 ly isolated ; nor England, for that mat- 
 ter, owing to the inexorable limita- 
 tions of that environment. 
 
 "Here in this country we have no 
 complaint to make of our natural re- 
 sources. The soil is capable of sus- 
 taining an enormous population. So 
 we have merely to consider the limita- 
 tions of individuals, transferring our 
 problem from the isolated family to the 
 general public. 
 
 "What do we find? All the limita- 
 tions I enumerated ! Inefficiency — 
 nearly every one below par in work- 
 ing power in the generation before 
 last, as well as miserably educated; 
 false theories of industry everywhere 
 — idiotic notions as to what work was 
 'respectable' and what wasn't, more 
 idotic notions of payment; worst of all, 
 most idotic idea that work was a curse 
 . . . Might as well call digestion a 
 curse ! Dear ! Dear ! How benighted 
 we were ! 
 
 "Then there was ill-judged division 
 of labor — almost universal ; that evil 
 For instance, look at this one point; 
 half the workers of the w^orld, nearly, 
 were restricted to one class of labor, 
 and that in the lowest industrial 
 grade." 
 
 "He means women, in housework, 
 John," Nellie interpolated. "We never 
 used to think of that as part of our 
 economic problem." 
 
 "It was a very serious part," the pro- 
 fessor continued, hastily forestalling 
 the evident intention of Mr. Brown to 
 strike in, "but there were many others. 
 The obvious utility of natural special- 
 ization in labor seemed scarcely to oc- 
 
164 
 
 Moving the Mountain 
 
 cur to us. Our system of production 
 was archaic in the extreme ; practically 
 710 system was followed." 
 
 "You must give credit to the work 
 of the Department of Agriculture, Dr. 
 Harkness," urged Mr. Brown, "the in- 
 troduction of new fruits, the improve- 
 ment of stocks " 
 
 "Yes, yes," agreed Dr. Harkness, 
 "the rudiments were there, of course ; 
 but no real grasp of organized produc- 
 tivity. And as to misuse of product — 
 why, my dear Mr. Robertson, it is a 
 wonder anybody had enough to live on 
 in those days, in view of our criminal 
 waste. 
 
 "The real turning point, Mr. Robert- 
 son, if we can put our finger on one, 
 is where the majority of the people 
 recognized the folly and evil of pov- 
 erty — and saw it to be a thing of our 
 own making. We saw that our worst 
 poverty was poverty in the stock — that 
 we raised a terrible percentage of poor 
 people. Then we established a tem- 
 porary Commission on Human effic- 
 iency, away back in 1913 or 14 — " 
 
 "Thirteen," put in Mr. Pike, who sat 
 back listening to Dr. Harkness with an 
 air of repressed superiority. 
 
 "Thank you," said the eminent So- 
 ciologist courteously. "These young 
 fellows have it all at their fingers' 
 ends Mr. Robertson. Better methods 
 in education nowadays, far better ! As 
 I was saying, we established a Com- 
 mission on Human Efficiency." 
 
 "You will remember the dawning 
 notions of 'scientific management' we 
 began to have in the first decade of the 
 new century," Mrs. AUerton quietly 
 suggested. "It occurred to us later to 
 apply it to ourselves — and we did." 
 
 "The Commission found that the 
 majority of human beings were not 
 properly reared," Dr. Harkness re- 
 sumed," with a resultant low standard 
 of efficiency — shockingly low ; and that 
 the loss was not merely to the individ- 
 ual but to the community. Then So- 
 ceity stretched out a long arm and 
 took charge of the work of humanicul- 
 ture — began to lift the human stand- 
 ard. 
 
 "I won't burden you with details on 
 that line at present; it touched but 
 one cause of poverty after all. The 
 
 false theory of industry was next to be 
 changed. A few far-seeing persons 
 were already writing and talking about 
 work as an organic social function, but 
 the sudden spread of it came through 
 the new religion." 
 
 "And the new voters, Dr. Hark- 
 ness," my sister added. 
 
 He smiled at her benevolently. A 
 large, comfortable, full-bearded, rosy 
 old gentleman was Dr. Harkness, and 
 evidently in full enjoyment of his pres- 
 ent task. 
 
 "Let us never forget the new voters, 
 of course. They have ceased to be 
 thought of as new, Mr. Robertson — 
 so easily does the human mind accept 
 established conditions. The new re- 
 ligion urged work — normal, well- 
 adapted work — as the duty of life — as 
 life itself; and the new voters accepted 
 this idea as one woman. 
 
 "They were, as a class, used to do- 
 ing their duty in patient industry, gen- 
 erally distasteful to them ; and the op- 
 portunity of doing work they liked — 
 with a sense of higher duty added — 
 was universally welcomed." 
 
 "I certainly remember a large class 
 of women who practiced no industry 
 at all — no duty either, unless what 
 they called 'social duties,' " I rather 
 sourly remarked. Mrs. Allerton took 
 me up with sudden heat : 
 
 "Yes, there were such, in large num- 
 bers, in our great cities particularly; 
 but public opinion was rising against 
 them even as far back as 1910. The 
 more progressive women turned the 
 light on them first, and then men took 
 it up and began to see that this domes- 
 tic pet was not only expensive and use- 
 less but injurious and absurd. I don't 
 suppose we can realize," she continued 
 meditatively, "how complete the 
 change in public opinion is — and how 
 supremely important. In visible ma- 
 terial progress we have only followed 
 simple lines, quite natural and obvious, 
 and accomplished what was perfectly 
 possible at any time — if we had only 
 thought so." 
 
 "That's the point!" Mr. Pike was 
 unable to preserve his air of restraint 
 any longer, and burst forth voluably. 
 
 "That was the greatest, the most 
 sudden, the most vital of our changes, 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 165 
 
 sir — the change in the world's thought ! 
 Ideas are the real things, sir! Brick 
 and mortar? Bah! We can put brick 
 and mortar in any shape we choose — 
 but we have to choose first ! What 
 held the old world back was not facts 
 — not conditions — not any material 
 limitations, or psychic limitations 
 either. We had every constituent of 
 human happiness, sir — except the 
 sense to use them. The channel of 
 progress was obstructed with a deposit 
 of prehistoric ideas. We choked up 
 our children's minds with this mental 
 refuse as we choked our rivers and 
 harbors with material refuse, sir." 
 
 Dr. Harkness still smiled. "Mr. Pike 
 was in my class ten years ago," he ob- 
 served amiably. "I always said he 
 was the brightest young man I had. 
 We are all very proud of Mr. Pike." 
 
 Mr. Pike seemed not over pleased 
 with this communication, and the old 
 gentleman went on : 
 
 "He is entirely right. Our idiotic 
 ideas and theories were the main 
 causes of poverty after all. The new 
 views on economics — true social econ- 
 omics, not the 'dismal science' ; with 
 the blaze of the new religion to show 
 what was right and wrong, and the 
 sudden uprising of half the adult world 
 — the new voters — to carry out the 
 new ideas ; these were what changed 
 things ! There you have it, Mr. Rob- 
 ertson, in a nutshell — rather a large 
 nutshell, a pericarp, as it were — but I 
 think that covers it." 
 
 "We students used always to admire 
 Dr. Harkness' power of easy generali- 
 zation," said Mr. Pike, in a mild, sub- 
 acid tone, "but if any ground of in- 
 quiry is left to you, Mr. Robertson, 
 I could, perhaps, illuminate some spec- 
 ial points." 
 
 Dr. Harkness laughed in high good 
 humor, and clapped his whilom pupil 
 on the back. 
 
 "You have the floor, Mr. Pike — I 
 shall listen to you with edification." 
 
 The young man looked a little 
 ashamed of his small irony, and contin- 
 ued more genially: 
 
 "Our first step — or one of our first 
 steps, for we advanced like a strenuous 
 centipede — was to check the birth of 
 defectives and degenerates. Certain 
 
 classes of criminals and perverts were 
 rendered incapable of reproducing 
 their kind. In the matter of those dis- 
 eases most injurious to the young, very 
 stringent measures were taken. It was 
 made a felony to infect wife or child 
 knowingly, and a misdemeanor if it 
 were done unknowingly. Physicians 
 were obliged to report all cases of in- 
 fectious disease, and young girls were 
 clearly taught the consequence of mar- 
 riage with infected persons. The im- 
 mediate result was, of course, a great 
 decrease in marriage ; but the increase 
 in population was scarce checked at all 
 because of the lowered death rate 
 among children. It was checked a lit- 
 tle ; but for twenty years now, it has 
 been recovering itself. We increase a 
 little too fast now, but see every hope 
 of a balanced population long before 
 the resources of the world are ex- 
 hausted." 
 
 •Mr. Brown seized upon a second 
 moment's pause to suggest that the 
 world's resources were vastly in- 
 creased also — and still increasing. 
 
 "Let Pike rest a moment and get 
 his breath," he said, warming to the 
 subject, "I want to tell Mr. Robertson 
 that the productivity of the earth is 
 gaining every year. Here's this old 
 earth feeding us all — laying golden 
 eggs as it were ; and we used to get 
 those eggs by the Caesarian operation! 
 We uniformly exhausted the soil — uni- 
 formly ! Now a man would no more 
 think of injuring the soil, the soil that 
 feeds him, than he would of hurting his 
 mother. We steadily improve the soil; 
 we improve the seed ; we improve 
 methods of culture ; we improve every- 
 thing." 
 
 Mrs. Allerton struck in here, "Not 
 forgetting the methods of transporta- 
 tion, Mr. Robertson. There was one 
 kind of old world folly which made 
 great waste of labor and time ; that 
 was our constant desire to eat things 
 out of season. There is now a truer 
 sense of what is really good eating; 
 no one wants to eat asparagus that is 
 not of the best, and asparagus cut five 
 or ten days cannot be really good. We 
 do not carry things about unnecessar- 
 ily ; and the carrying Ave do is swift, 
 easy and economical. For slow freight 
 
166 
 
 Moving the Mountain 
 
 we use waterways wherever possible — 
 you will be pleased to see the 'all-water 
 routes' that thread the country now. 
 And our roads — you haven't seen our 
 roads yet ! We lead the world." 
 
 "We used to be at the foot of the 
 class as to roads, did we not?" I asked; 
 and Mr. Pike swiftly answered : 
 
 "We did, indeed, sir. But that very 
 need of good roads made easy to us the 
 second step in abolishing poverty. 
 Here was a great social need calling 
 for labor; here were thousands upon 
 thousands of mien calling for employ- 
 ment ; and here were we keeping the 
 supply from the demand by main 
 strength — merely from those archaic 
 ideas of ours. 
 
 "We had a mass of valuable data al- 
 ready collected, and now that the 
 whole country teemed with new ideals 
 of citizenship and statesmanship, it 
 did not take very long to get the two 
 together." 
 
 "We furnished employment for all 
 the women, too," my sister added. "A 
 Social Service Union was formed the 
 country over ; it was part of the new 
 religion. Every town has one — men 
 and women. The same spirit that 
 used to give us crusaders and mission- 
 aries now gave plenty of enthusiastic 
 workers." 
 
 "I don't see yet how you got up any 
 enthusiasm about work," said I. 
 
 "It was not work for oneself," 
 Nellie explained. That is what used to 
 make it so sordid ; we used really to 
 believe that we were working each 
 for himself. This new idea was over- 
 whelming in its simplicity — and truth ; 
 work is social service — social service is 
 religion — that's about it." 
 
 "Not only so," Dr. Harkness added, 
 "it made a three-fold appeal ; to the 
 old deep-seated religious sense ; to the 
 new, vivid intellectual acceptance ; and 
 to the very widespread, wholesome 
 appreciation of a clear advantage. 
 
 "When a thing was offered to the 
 world that agreed with every social 
 instinct, that appeal to common sense, 
 that was established by the highest 
 scientific authority, and that had the 
 overwhelming sanction of religion — 
 why the world took to it." 
 
 "But it is surely not natural to peo- 
 
 less to like to 
 
 pie to work — much 
 work !" I protested. 
 
 "There's where the change comes 
 in," Mr. Pike eagerly explained. "We 
 used to think that people hated work 
 — nothing of the sort! What people 
 hated was too much work, which is 
 death ; work they were personally unfit 
 for and therefore disliked, which is tor- 
 ture ; work under improper conditions, 
 which is disease; work held contempti- 
 ble, looked down upon by other people, 
 which is a grievous social distress ; and 
 work so ill-paid that no human beings 
 could really live by it." 
 
 "Why Mr. Robertson, if you can 
 throw any light on the now incon- 
 ceivable folly of that time so utterly 
 behind us, we shall be genuinely in- 
 debted to you. It was quite under- 
 stood in your day that the whole 
 world's life, comfort, prosperity and 
 progress depended upon the work done, 
 was it not?" 
 
 "Why, of course; that was an econ- 
 omic platitude," I answered. 
 
 "Then why were the workers pun- 
 ished for doing it?" 
 
 "Punished? What do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean just what I say. They were 
 punished, just as we punish criminals 
 — with confinement at hard labor. The 
 great mass of the people were forced 
 to labor for cruelly long hours at dull, 
 distasteful occupations ; is not that 
 punishment?" 
 
 "Not at all," I said hotly. "They 
 were free at any time to leave an occu- 
 pation they did not like." 
 
 "Leave it for what alternative?" 
 
 "To take up another," said I, per- 
 ceiving that this, after all, was not 
 much of an escape. 
 
 "Yes, to take up another under the 
 same heavy conditions, if there was any 
 opening; or to starve — that was their 
 freedom." 
 
 "Well, what would you have?" I 
 asked. "A man must work for his living 
 surely." 
 
 "Remember your economic plati- 
 tude, Mr. Robertson," Dr. Harlcness 
 sugo-ested. "The whole world's life, 
 comfort, prosperity and progress de- 
 pends upon the work done, you know. 
 It was not their living they were work- 
 ins: for ; it was the world's." 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 167 
 
 "That is very pretty as a sentiment." 
 I was beginning ; but his twinkling eye 
 reminded me that an economic plati- 
 tude is not precisely sentimental. 
 
 "That's where the change came," Mr. 
 Pike eagerly repeated. "The idea that 
 each man had to do it for himself kept 
 us blinded to the fact that it was all 
 social service ; that they worked for the 
 world, and the world treated them 
 shamefully — so shamefully that their 
 product was deteriorated, markedly de- 
 teriorated." 
 
 "You will be continually surprised, 
 Mr. Robertson, at the improvement of 
 our output," remarked Mr. Brown. 
 "We have standards in every form of 
 manufacture, required standards ; and 
 to label an article incorrectly is a mis- 
 demeanor." 
 
 "That was just starting in the pure 
 food agitation, you remember," my sis- 
 ter put in — ('with apple juice containing 
 one-tenth of one per cent, of benzoate 
 of soda).'" 
 
 "And now," Mr. Brown continued, 
 " 'all wool' is all wool ; if it isn't, you 
 can have the dealer arrested. Silk is 
 silk, nowadays, and cream is cream." 
 
 "And 'caveat emptor' is a dead let- 
 ter?" 
 
 "Yes, it is 'caveat vendor' now You 
 see, selling goods is public service." 
 
 "You apply that term quite different- 
 ly from what it stood for in my mem- 
 ory," said I. 
 
 "It used to mean some sort of bene- 
 ficent statesmanship, at first," Nellie 
 agreed. "Then it spread to various 
 philanthropic efforts and wider grades 
 of government activities. Now it means 
 any kind of world work." 
 
 She saw that this description did not 
 carry much weight with me, and added, 
 "Any kind of human work, John ; that 
 is, work a man gives his whole time 
 to and does not himself consume, is 
 world work — is social service." 
 
 "If a man raises, by his own labor, 
 just enough corn to feed himselt — that 
 is working for himself," Mr. Brown ex- 
 plained, "but if he raises more corn 
 than he consumes, he is serving" hu- 
 manity." 
 
 "But he does not give it away," I 
 urged : "he is paid for it." 
 
 "Well, you paid the doctor who 
 
 saved your child's life, but the doctor's 
 work was social service none the less — 
 and the teacher's — anybody's." 
 
 "But that kind of work benefits hu- 
 manity — " 
 
 "Yes, and does it not benefit human- 
 ity to eat — to have shoes and clothes 
 and houses? John, John, wake up!" 
 Nellie for the first time showed impa- 
 tience with me. But my brother-in- 
 law extended a protecting arm. 
 
 "Now, Nellie, don't hurry him. This 
 thing will burst upon him all at one" 
 Of course it's glaringly plain, but there 
 was a time when you and I did not see 
 it either." 
 
 I was a little sulky. "Well, as far 
 as I gather." and I took out my note 
 book, "people all of a sudden changed 
 all their ideas about everythmg — and 
 your demi-millenium followed.'' 
 
 "I wish we could say that." said Mrs. 
 Allerton. "We are not telling you of 
 our present day problems and difficul- 
 ties, you see. No, Mr. Robertson, we 
 have merely removed our most obvious 
 and patently unnecessary difficulties, 
 of which poverty was at least the larg- 
 est. 
 
 "What we did, as we have rather 
 confusedly suggested, I'm afraid, was 
 to establish such measures as to insure 
 better births, and vastly better environ- 
 ment and education for e^jpry child. 
 That raised the standard of the people, 
 you see, and increased their efficiency. 
 Then we provided emnlnvi-nent for 
 everyone, under good conditions, and 
 improved the world in two ways at 
 once." 
 
 "And who paid for this universal em- 
 ployment?" I asked. 
 
 "Who paid for it before?" she re- 
 turned promptly. 
 
 "The employer, of course." 
 
 "Did he? Out of his own private 
 pocket? At a loss to himself," 
 
 "Why, of course not," I replied, a lit- 
 tle nettled. "Out of the profits of the 
 business." 
 
 "And 'the business' was the work 
 done by the employees?" 
 
 "Not at all ! He did it himself ; they 
 only furnished the labor." 
 
 "Could he do it alone — without 
 'labor?' Did he furnish employment 
 as a piece of beneficence, outside of his 
 
168 
 
 "N. G. 
 
 business — Ah, Mr. Robertson, surely it 
 is clear that unless a man's labor lur- 
 nished a profit to his employer, he 
 would not be employed. It was on 
 that profit that 'labor' was paid — they 
 paid themselves. They do now, but at 
 a higher rate." 
 
 I was annoyed by this clever jug- 
 gling with the hard facts of business. 
 
 "That is very convincing, Mrs. Aller- 
 ton," I said with some warmth, "but it 
 imfortunately omits certain factors. A 
 lot of laborers could make a given arti- 
 cle, of course ; but they could not sell 
 it — and that is where the profit comes 
 in. What good would it do the laborer 
 to pile up goods if he could not sell 
 them?" 
 
 "And what good would be the ability 
 to sell goods if there were none, Mr. 
 Robertson. Of course I recognize the 
 importance of transportation : that is 
 my own line of work, but there must 
 be something to transport. As long 
 
 ago as St. Paul's day it was known that 
 the hand could not say to the foot, I 
 have no need of thee.' " 
 
 "To cover that ground more easily, 
 Mr. Robertson," Dr. Harkness ex- 
 plained, "just put down in your digest 
 there that Bureaus of Employment 
 were formed all over the country; 
 some at first were of individual initia- 
 tive, but in a few years' time all were 
 in government management. There 
 was a swift and general improvement 
 in the whole country. The roads be- 
 came models to the world, the harbors 
 were cleared, canals dug, cities rebuilt, 
 bare hills reforested, the value of our 
 national property doubled and trebeled 
 — all owing to the employment of 
 hitherto neglected labor. Out of the 
 general increase of wealth they got 
 their share, of course. And where 
 there is work for everyone, at good 
 wages, there is no poverty ; that's 
 clearly seen." 
 
 {To be covtinued) 
 
 N. G." 
 
 THE non-voting companionship 
 of women with "idiots, lunatics, 
 and criminals" has been sus- 
 tained for a long while, only a 
 comparatively few openly resenting it ; 
 but are women to accept with patience 
 this new census classification? 
 
 The initials "N. G." are used to indi- 
 cate the status of all women who are 
 not wage-earners. This does not mean 
 "no good," as is irresistably suggested, 
 but merely "non-gainful ;" and in itself 
 furnishes food for thought. While we 
 are thinking of it, let us include in our 
 meditations a new group sharing the 
 shelter of these initials. 
 
 We are told that the new census bu- 
 reau has issued verbal orders to its 
 tabulating clerks to classify prostitutes 
 as "N. G." 
 
 Statistics on the "social evil" are of 
 the most vital importance to the na- 
 tion. Why should they be suppressed? 
 Are these women so frightfully numer- 
 
 ous that the authorities fear to have 
 their numbers known? A most mis- 
 taken policy; the worse the case is the 
 more fully we ought to know it. 
 
 Are they so few as to be negligible? 
 We ought to know that also. 
 
 We have figures for the waitresses, 
 mill-workers, milliners, dressmakers, 
 and so on ; but these unfortunates, 
 whose names and addresses have been 
 secured with all the others, are now to 
 be obliterated professionally. 
 
 Since they must be concealed, an(« 
 could not, apparently, be sheltered 
 under the mantle of any industrial 
 workers, they have been added to the 
 ranks of daughters, wives and mothers 
 living at home. 
 
 May it be suggested, from the point 
 of view of an equal suffragist, that if 
 women were responsible for these sta- 
 tistics they would have done quite 
 otherwise. 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 169 
 
 COMMENT AND REVIEW 
 
 *'The New Machiaveli," by H. G. Wells, Duf- 
 field & Co., New York. $1.35 net. 
 
 In times past, when an unusual 
 woman showed marked capacity in 
 some Hne of human service, all were 
 quick to see and point out with scorn 
 or pity, the "feminine limitations" of 
 her work. It was done "like a 
 woman," they said ; it was "womanish ;" 
 it was to be grudgingly measured as 
 "good — for a woman," if good at all. 
 
 Now we are beginning to use some- 
 thing of the opposite point of view in 
 regard to men's achievements ; and we 
 need it, constantly, in considering the 
 work of Mr. H. G. Wells 
 
 The masculine limitations of this au- 
 thor are marked and persistent. He 
 sees life wholly from the side of sex — 
 his sex ; and when, as in this last book, 
 he frankly announces himself "femin- 
 ist," it is only sex in woman which he 
 sees, and for which he demands social 
 recognition. 
 
 Of course it is difficult for a man to 
 overcome this bias, more so than for a 
 woman ; yet many great men have 
 been able to do it. Mr. Wells has not. 
 
 Note this record of masculine emo- 
 tion and conduct, its morbid excesses 
 blasting an otherwise valuable life — 
 indeed several of them — yet discussed 
 with naive solemnity as if it was all in 
 the necessary order of nature. 
 
 The book tells of a boy somewhat 
 unfortunate in birth and breeding, as 
 most of us are ; growing up to keen- 
 minded speculation on human life, its 
 pressing needs and problems ; yet in 
 all this wide sociological interest to- 
 tally oblivious to such a predominating 
 social question as the woman's move- 
 ment. 
 
 The girl he passes in the street who 
 stirs his boyish sensations ; the women 
 of his frankly told experiences ; the 
 woman he marries — "I suppose it was 
 because I had so great a need of such 
 help as her whiteness proffered," he 
 says ; "I wanted a woman to save me ;" 
 — and the next one with whom he 
 overwhelmingly falls in love; these are 
 real to him ; and one other, mercilessly 
 caricatured. These impress him ; but 
 the change in social relation of thou- 
 
 sands does not impress him. The 
 work is powerful and clear ; the view 
 of the present confusion of methods, 
 especially in the rearing of young peo- 
 ple, is vividly appealing; but the criti- 
 cisms of political life show a strange 
 lack of adjustment in eyes that see so 
 far. 
 
 To be in the immediate workings of 
 the political department of the social 
 body must necessarily be confusing. 
 
 The social philosopher can see an 
 ordered procession of changes for cen- 
 turies ahead, but the politician must 
 introduce those changes step by step — 
 with some heat. 
 
 The worst thing about this book is 
 the spirit of personal enmity it reveals ; 
 the Dantesque consigning of enemies 
 to the hell of a wickedly clever carica- 
 turization. Little London, where 
 everybody who is anybody knows 
 everybody else, buzzed madly over the 
 book. 
 
 This is pitiful work. If there was 
 no personal animus in this bitter ridi- 
 cule, it shows sheer malice. If there 
 was a personal ground, it implicates 
 the author with his creation most pain- 
 fully. 
 
 Mr. Wells is easily among the first 
 of those who are kindled with the so- 
 cial consciousness, and able to spread 
 the light and heat of it to others. His 
 work is extremely able, though irregu- 
 lar; and with his unrivalled imagina- 
 tion, wide scientific knowledge, and 
 highly developed art, he ought to be 
 one of the prime movers of the world 
 today. But here enter the disabilities 
 of sex. Not only, as in this tale, is a 
 mans' political life ruined by open 
 scandal, but the artist, scientist, and 
 publicist is cut off from highest use- 
 fulness by this constant limitation. 
 
 In a publication whose popularity 
 proves its knowledge of the prevailing 
 tastes of the man in the street, has 
 been running a story most pleasing and 
 absorbing to that man. With passion- 
 ate eagerness he read it from week to 
 week, discussed it with his friends, 
 commented sagely on its florid phil- 
 osophy. 
 
170 
 
 Comment and Review 
 
 This story is "The Grain of Dust," 
 by the late David Graham Phillips. 
 
 It is a man's story, utterly; mascu- 
 line from start to finish; with woman 
 only thrown in as a background; the 
 vain and shallow fiancee, the vain and 
 shallow sister, the vain and shallow 
 girl who served as a grain of dust to 
 stop the action of the hero's "works" ; 
 — not that she had power even to do that 
 — the power was all in him ! 
 
 " 'It isn't the woman who makes a 
 fool of the man,' said Norman, 'it's the 
 man who makes a fool of himself !' " 
 
 The most amusing feature of the 
 book is this; the ultra-male hero; vain 
 beyond belief, brutally self-confident, 
 unprincipled as a fish, indififerent to 
 any intersts but his own, self-indul- 
 gent to a degree which would have 
 made him a shameful wreck in five 
 years had not the author endowed him 
 with a magic immunity to all excesses ; 
 and first, last and always the ceaseless 
 mouthpiece of an egotism unmeasured 
 and unashamed ; this man dwells con- 
 tinually on the vanity and egotism of 
 women ! 
 
 Because a girl, the efifect of whose 
 marvellous everchanging beauty forms 
 the subject matter of the story, thinks 
 she is beautiful — therefore she is a 
 monument of the egotism of her sex ! 
 
 Because another girl whom this lov- 
 able hero was about to marry for her 
 beauty, money and position, and who 
 was somewhat in love with him ; really 
 expected him to love her; really re- 
 sented his loving another woman while 
 relentlessly going on to marry her 
 for business purposes ; and really rec- 
 ognized in herself the beauty, wealth 
 and position he was marrying her for 
 — she was another monument of femi- 
 nine egotism. 
 
 It would seem on the face of it that 
 if one wished to write a book to estab- 
 lish the utter incapacity, selfishness 
 and vanity of women ; one would 
 choose a type of that sort, and sur- 
 round her with the effective contrast 
 of useful, noble, modest and unselfish 
 men. Such a woman, so exhibited, 
 should exert her arts in vain upon 
 these noble characters. 
 
 In this story, however, we have for 
 
 our heroine a quiet, lovely girl, effi- 
 cient and devoted as a daughter; self- 
 supporting and self-respecting under 
 long temptation; finally choosing to 
 marry her chief pursuer even without 
 "love," preferring his wealth and pro- 
 fessed devotion to long poverty and 
 possible failure and shame : a deed at 
 worst no more to be condemned than 
 his earlier attempt. 
 
 His wealth, by the way, was non- 
 existent when he married her — he de- 
 liberately deceived her in this; and his 
 "love" vanished on the morning after. 
 Thereafter he treats her as an upper 
 servant, whose only business in life is 
 to minister to his personal comfort — 
 whose only claim on him was for "sup- 
 port ;" and in her new efforts to please 
 him, forgetting that she had done the 
 work of a house for years and cared 
 tenderly for an absent-minded father, 
 while at the same time earning her 
 living at distasteful labor, he is at 
 great pains to show her pitifully inef- 
 ficient, and never more than moder- 
 ately successful. 
 
 And we can never ask the author if 
 this book was really meant as a satire 
 on men ! 
 
 "The Players of London." Written 
 by Louise Beecher Chancellor, deco- 
 rated by Harry B. Matthews, Pub- 
 lished by B. W. Dodge Company, New 
 York, 1909. 
 
 This is not a new book, in the strict 
 publisher's sense, but it is an ex- 
 tremely attractive one, with its 
 binding of lilac and gold, its pro- 
 fuse inner trimmings of lilac, and 
 vivid illuminations in black and white. 
 The story is a simple one, of the 
 days of Good Queen Bess, with no 
 less a person for the hero than Master 
 Will. Shakespere; and for the heroine, 
 the first woman to appear on the Eng- 
 lish stage. It does seem strange indeed 
 for Romeo and Juliet to be writ- 
 ten with the expectation of some 
 lad's taking the part of that passionate 
 young heroine. But this appears to 
 be what Shakspere did. How he was 
 misled in the matter, for what noble 
 purpose and to what poor end, is 
 shown in this old world tale. 
 
The Forerunner 
 
 THE HOME 
 
 ITS WORK AND INFLUENCE 
 
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 With sound logic and sparkling wit, Mrs. Gilman discusses 
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 Woman, the Girl and the Child, concluding with a study of 
 the tendencies to change and improvement already visible, 
 and a forecast of the future. 
 
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