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Society.
-HV
Lydia Leavitt,
liKOCKVILLF. :
TIMES PKINTIXG AND I'UIJLISIIIXG COMPANY.
•f
< .'
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY,
" She was not fair,
Nor beautiful,— those words express her not,
But, O, her looks had something excellent
That wants a name."
In a country house near the city of B lived a
lady of cultivated mind and manners, " a noble woman
nobly planned." Well read and familiar with such
writers as Tyndall, Huxley, Spencer and other scien-
tists, and being rather cosmopolitan in tastes, liked
to gather about her, people who had-as she termed it-
^deas. At times there was a strange medley of artists
authors, religious enthusiasts, spiritualists, philanthropists
and even philosophers. On the evening of which I write
there was the usual peculiar gathering, and each one is
expressmg his or her views freely and unrestrainedly.
The visionary and dreamer said : "Let me dec.cribe
a modern Utopia of which I have often dreamed and
thought.
nOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
In a fertile valley, surrounded on all sides by high
mountains, lived a community or body of people who had
never been outside the valley. To them the mountains
proved an impassible barrier and they had no wish or de-
sire to penetrate beyond. For generations they had lived
in this peaceful retreat happy and content. The ground
yielded sufficient for their wants and needs. No one in
this little world was richer than his neighbor and if one
of the community fell ill each contributed something
from their own supply for his or her support. They
knew nothing about the value of money, for here it was
useless. No one dreamed of possessing more than his
neighbor, but each and all must share alike. Time
dealt kindly with these simple people, for they dealt kind-
ly with time, and life flowed on smoothly and pleasantly.
Men and women of seventy years were hale and hearty,
for it is not so much the ntimber of years we live that
leave their traces, as the events which transpire in those
years ; each event, each sorrow, each disappointment
making an era and each one leaving a trace For the
inhabitants of the valley there were few disappointments
and fewer sorrows. If the angel of death entered and
took one of their number, each and all took the sorrow
home for it was looked upon as a personal calamity
when any one of the little community was taken from
them.
The sun seemed to shine brighter, the water to be
clearer and more limpid, the foliage more brilliant in this
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
little world than elsewhere. Perhaps because the eyes of
the people were undimmed by sorrow, perhaps because
their souls were unclouded by sin, or perchance they
were in complete harmony with nature and were able to
see all her beauty, each charm enhanced by something
within themselves.
Nowhere else did the earth yield such abundant
harvest. The wheat bent its yellow head from over weight.
The trees were laden with fruit and here again nature
seemed to be in sympathy with her children. No sordid
motives, no love of gain, no thought of barter and sale en-
tered their minds while sowing their fields or reaping
their grain, but every one labored that each and all might
be benefitted. The men were strong and self-reliant, the
women contented and happy, the children rosy and
healthy.
Every Sabbath morning the old church bell rang a
sweet summons to meet together to worship God.
One church was sufficient for all. They knew nothing
about heresies and schisms but assembled together to
hear a simple story simply told. The venerable clergy-
man, with white hair and beard, in the dimly lighted
church resembled the pictures of the matryrs, his face tell-
ing the story of a simple, true, pure life. His sermons
were eloquent from their very simplicity ; no need there of
learned dissertations, for the people would not have com-
prehended had he been able to give them, and had
they been able to understand, their pastor was unable to
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
teach. It was a pleasant sight, the old men, young
maidens, happy matrons and rosy children assembled
together in their quaint old fashioned dress, simple in
the extreme, listening to the teaching of their minister.
Their amusement and pleasures were simple with no
unnatural craving after excitement. The ever chang-
ing sky and clouds ; the mists on the mountain top ;
the purple hills and yellow waving grain ; the running
brook ; all these were sources of pleasure and amusement.
To a few, the world out side the valley, the numerous
conjectures as to the people who inhabited it, gave food
for thought.
At eventide the sun is setting, throwing a golden
glow over the valley, from a cottage near is heard the
cradle song of some happy mother lulling her child
to sleep ; in the distance can be heard the tinkling
cow bell, and on the purple hill side the sheep have
lain down to rest. The sun has gone down a little
lower and the shadows of the mountains have lengthened
until they stretch almost across the valley ; the sounds
of life have almost ceased ; the child is asleep and the
lullaby ended ; the tinkling of the bells is scarcely heard ;
the birds have gone to their nests, and up from the valley
has risen a white mist that has hidden and completely
covered the last sign of life. Surely a beautiful covering
for such a valley, a fitting mantle for so pure a people.
The morning broke dull and cloudy over the last
happy day of the peaceful valley.
noil EM I AN SOCIETY.
A stranger from the outer world, about which they
had speculated so much, appeared in their midst. Seek-
ing a number of young men he soon engaged them in
earnest conversation, arousing their curiosity by telling
them of the strange and wonderful things which trans-
pired in the world beyond the mountains ; telling them of
the wonderful discoveries of science ; the fame of many
brilliant men and women, telling them of the advantages
of communication with the outer world, of the uselessness
and folly of spending their lives in so simple a manner,
ridiculing their simplicity, telling them that the mere
youths of his country could teach the venerable grandsires
of the valley things of which they had never dreamed,
telling of the advantages of extended thought and educa-
tion. After many days spent in persuasion, he gained
the consent of some to erect a large college which was
immediately begun. Some of the older ones shook their
heads and asked each other the question, "Were we not
happy ? What more can be required ?" Thus the first
seeds of discord were sown where all had been harmony.
Laborers came from afar to aid in the erection of the
college, and day by day the work progressed and child-
ren stood and gazed in open-eyed wonder at the place
where they were to gain a world of information. The
work was finished ; teachers came from foreign lands, mas-
ters of languages, teachers of science, and metaphysicians
to puzzle the heads of the old and weary the brain of the
young. Teachers of music with massive organs for the
liOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
music rooms of the college arrived, teachers of piano and
harp, all of which were a revelation to these simple
people, who could not conceive of any sweeter music than
the song of the birds, their mothers evening hymn or the
soft sweet notes of the happy wife as she crooned her
babe to sleep. The children were sent to the college and
and in a short time the strife began, each one trying to
excel the other. No more time to study the effect of the
misty mountain tops, no more time to listen to the songs
of the birds, for here within these four walls were to be
found and learned stranger things than they had ever
thought of. After a few years the youths who went to
the old church could scarcely be recognized. The same
sweet welcome was given by the old church bell but how
changed were the people who assembled together !
Where all had been love and faith before, there was now
doubt and discord. For had they not dabbled in science?
Some of the more learned ones even whispered that the
old clergyman should be replaced by a younger man, one
more advanced in culture and training. True his head
was bent and very grey, his hands shook and voice
trembled and at times it was almost difficult to under-
stand him, his prayer was so weak and broken. But at
the bed-side of the sick he was always welcome, the in-
firmities of age were forgotten there. For over half ^
century he had held himself in readiness to attend the
bedside of all who might call upon him to speak cheer-
ing, hopeful words to the dying. But now our little com-
BOJIEMIA N SOCIE T Y.
muiiity has become e<lucated and they are able to criticise.
As we look around the church we are lost in wonder as
to what has come to the people. The older ones are
sadder and a spirit of unrest seems to have seized upon
the middle aj^ed, while the very children have lost some-
thing of their charm.
In a short time factories and manulactories are run-
ning ; clouds of smoke ascend from the valley to the
mountain top which had never been touched by anything
less pure than the rain from the cloud or the mists from
the valley below. Nature itself was making a silent
protest against the invasion of her solitude. The trees
which had borne abundant fruit before were barren now.
The older people shook their heads and attributed
the cause to the doubts and unbelief which had arisen in
their lovely valley. The more learned ones assigned the
smoke from the factories to be the cause. Death was of
more frequent occurrence to the inhabitants than for-
merly. This dread visitor came at rare intervals and to
the very aged before the advent of education and com-
merce. But now the little children and youths were fre-
quently stricken with strange diseases, which baffled all
skill.
And after a time enterprise steps in and a railroad is
built, and with it every vestige of the happy valley dis-
appears. The old church is torn down, and a new
one of grand proportions and elaborate workmanship
is built on the old spot. The venerable head of the
i^
10
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
clergyman has lain low for many a year, and in his i)lace
stands an eloquent divine, with all the modern ideas, who,
in trying to prove the doctnnes of his church to be the
true faith, leaves the doctrine of Christianity out — and that
too has gone ; buried beneath the ruins of the old church
and in the grave of the old clergyman.
Now let a person pass through the valley and they
will look in vain for a vestige of the once beautiful
spot. There is a-hurrying to and fro. On the faces of
the young can be seen lines of care and thought. The
innocent faces and sweet manner of the young girls have
given place to a look of consciousness. The pretty,
quaint dresses have gone and fashion has sway. The
quiet, dreamy look and manner of the young men has
given place to a worldly air. The mists which arise
from the valley are mixed with the foul smoke of the fac-
tories and engines, and where all was peace and quiet-
ness ; chaos reigns supreme.
An enthusiast is saying :
Philanthropists in many ages and many lands have
put forth great and noble efforts for the benefit of man-
kind and as we advance in knowledge and civilization the
ways and means chosen have undergone many modifica-
tions. It has dawned upon philanthropists that they
must have some knowledge of the religion of humanity
before the change can be very marked, in the lives of
those they would assist. The religion of humanity is the
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
ti
noblest, the grandest of all religions. It is the one which
our Saviour taught while on earth ; the one which he
taught his disciples to follow ; one which requires no
trained intellect or cultivated mind, but simply an under-
standing of the human heart, the human mind, and human
passions. In it there are no creeds to learn, no dogmas
to understand, but the simple lesson of " Do unto others
as you would they they should do unto you," which is the
foundation of genuine religion. Phariseeism is the curse
of modern times, " Stand aside for I am holier than thou,"
is the spirit too often shown among — so called — Christ-
ians. The teaching of our Saviour ; his life and good
words mean little with many persons. The story of
Mary Magdalen is simply a story, and conveys nothing
to their minds. A supplication from such a one as she
would meet with no return. The drawing of the skirts
aside for fear of contamination, the cold looks and averted
gaze, prove that at least, one noble lesson has been dis-
regarded.
In the German town of Andernach there is a huge
wooden image of the Saviour on the cross. And this is
the legend which all the simple peasants believe
*' One stormy night a poor, sinful creature was wan
dering about the streets with her babe in her arms, and
she was hungry and cold, homeless and friendl(;ss, and
no one in Andernach would take her in. And when she
came to the crucifix, she sat down on a stone at the foot of
the cross and began to pray, and i)ra)ed till she fell
12
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
asleep with her poor little babe on her bosom. But she
did not sleep long, for a bright light shone full in her
face, and when she opened her eyes she saw a pale man
standing before her. He was almost naked, and there
was blood upon his hands and body ; and great tears
stood in his beautiful eyes and his face was like the
face of the Saviour on the cross. Not a word did he
speak, but he looked at the woman compassionately, and
gave her a loaf of bread, and took the babe in his arms
and kissed it."
No need to talk of spiritual things to people who are
suffering from hunger and cold. If the moral nature of
the poor is to be reformed, their surroundings must be
improved. "'The mind becomes that which it contem-
plates." It would be impossible for anyone surrounded
by crime and poverty to understand or be made to com-
prehend the loving kindness of a God who placed them
in such a condition and amidst such surroundings. No
one, unless they were fanatics, would think of distribut-
ing religious tracts to the poor half starved ignorant por-
tion of a large city. The human portion of their natures
must be benefitted before any great results in moral im-
provements can be attained. Commence at the begin-
ning. Teach them the laws of hygiene : teach them
their duty, not from any reward which they may ex-
pect in the next world, but for the sake of right and the
happiness it will afford them in this world.
noUEMIAN SOCIETY.
13
I am often struck with the idea that the religion
which is taught from our pulpits frequently helps to nour-
ish all that is most selfish in our natures. We are taught
that for every kind act we perform, we may expect a re-
ward hereafter. In worldly matters we would have a
poor opinion of a friend — or one calling herself such —
who for every small act of kindness shown us, was con-
stantly thinking of the benefit she was to derive from it.
Why will the reasoning not apply to spiritual matters ?
Such teaching develops all that is lowest in human nature.
And again we are told that by doing certain things which
are sinful in the sight of God, we may expect punish-
ment hereafter ; consequently many people are deterred
from wrong doing, simply from fear ; not because of any
inner consciousness of wrong doing, but for fear of the
consequences of their sin. W^ould it not be well to teach
and train the human mind to the belief that any act com-
mitted which is injurious to ourselves or our fellow crea-
tures is wrong, because the act in itself is wrong and not
because we are to be punished in the future.
Imagine a prisoner, a dangerous character, who con-
ducts himself properly while under the eye of the keeper
and in sight of the lash, compelled by fear to conform
to rules, does the work appointed him, not from a
consciousness of doing right, not because the doing
right is a pleasure, but through fear of the conse-
quences if he disobeys. He serves his time, is dis-
charged, but what kind of a citizen does he become ?
H
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
If fear only restrains him from wrong-doing what object
will he have in doing right? Leave out the doctrine of
reward and punishment, teach and train the mind to
something higher and holier than mere personal gratifi-
cation. The religion of humanity is a grand, a noble
belief. To remember that each and every one has some
claim to consideration, that the way to restrain from
wrong-doing is through the human heart. A warm hand
clasp and a sympathetic tear will do more to strengthen
ones belief in heaven than all the tracts which were ever
written. Can we believe in the goodness and loving
kindness of God, when we see nothing but coldness and
selfishness in our fellow creatures. Ah believe me, the
chords of the human heart are very tender and if touched
by a sympathetic hand will produce sweet sounds but if
touched by the unfriendly hand of coldness and indiffer-
ence, the sounds will be harsh and discordant. There is
no one so low, so ignorant, so fallen, but has claims upon
our sympathies. The Turks collect every scrap of paper
that comes in their way, because the name of God may
be written upon it. Deal tenderly with every fellow
creature, for all are made in the image of God. A few
kind words have sa/ed many lives from shipwreck.
Phariseeism says to itself after hearing of the sin of
some poor mortal "I am holier than that person. I have
never sinned in that way," forgetful of the fact that they
have never been tempted in the same way. The religion
of humanity says "here is a poor mortal who has been
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
15
sorely tried and tempted, we will show him his error and
help him to do right." Phariseeism sends to the boy who
has been arrested for stealing a loaf of bread, a tract
with " Thou shall not steal " in large letters. The
religion of humanity says, "the boy was hungry and we
will feed him." Phariseeism says to the poor shivering
outcast, " the Lord chastiseth those whom he loveth. "
The religion of humanity takes her in and clothes, feeds
and warms her. To the poor woman who is struggling
for daily bread, each day sadder than the last, Phariseeism
says, "bear thy burdens meekly." The religion of
humanity says, " we will do something to lighten her
sorrow. "
Phariseeism sees nothing to condem in itself, forget-
ful that the sins they are committing may be greater in the
sight of God than the sins which they are condeming in
others.
I have often thought if a magician would wave his
magic wand over a pool of water so that, not only the
features but the mind , the motives, the passions were re-
flected, what consternation it would produce in the minds
of the Pharisee.
O be charitable even as Christ was to the sins of
humanity, be sympathetic even as He was to the suffer-
ings of mankind; be kind even as He was to the poor; be
merciful even as He was to erring women, s|)eak comfort-
ing words even as He did to the weak hearted ; speak
cheerful words even as He did to the weary and sad.
i6
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate
Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours
Weeping upon his bed has sate
He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
Again the voice of the dreamer is heard. Let us,
from a slight elevation, watch the busy life of a large city.
At early morning can be heard the rattling of the carts
and the merry whistle of the drivers — the red-faced
market woman is arranging fruit temptingly in front of
her stall ; the shopman in a small street is lowering shut-
ters from his windows ; the little old wizened woman has
seated herself on the curb stone with a small supply of
apples and candy ; the one armed beggar has taken his
accustomed place ; the shop girls are hurrying to their
places behind the counters, the brawny workman with
muscles of iron, strides along to his days labor, and all the
work-a-day world is alert. A little later on the business
portion of the city is abroad, the banker is being driven to
his counting house, the wealthy shop keeper hurries to his
place of business, and farther on the little flower girl with
fresh violets, still wet with dew, can be seen with her
basket, offering to the passers by the sweet contents.
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
»7
Now the great city is thoroughly awake. The miser and
the beggar jostle each other on the crowded pavement,
the little children are taken out for their morning airing
by the white-capped nurse, a black robed nun glides
along on some errand of mercy, with a face like a
mediaeval saint, jostling her as he passes can be agqh the
excited face of the gambler who has staked his all and
lost, and again another llower-girl bearing her bright
burden, now seen and again lost sight of, looks like a
bright humming bird as she Hits along, moving hither
and thither in this strange medley of human beings. A
group has gathered around some Italian street musicians;
little ragged urchins are dancing in time to a merry waltz,
and now the tune changes from gay to grave. Watch the
expression of the dark-eyed harpist while he plays, surely
his thoughts have llown to his sunny Italy, so sad, so
dreamy is his look. Even this picturesque looking street
musician may have a romance and may be dreaming at
this moment of some sweet voiced Italian maiden.
Later in the day all the fashionable world is
astir. Elegant carriages with gaily dressed occupants are
dashing along. There is a carriage with the paint
scarcely yet dry and seated within is a red -faced vulgar
looking woman, the carriage, the horses, the woman, all
painfully — new. At the same time hurrying along in
shabby dress and mean attire is a fragile delicate woman
whose garb shows evidences of much mending and
patient darning, but the shabby dress cannot hide the
i8
BOHEMIAN iiOCIETY.
W l!>
fact that here is a lady, as with easy s^race she moves
clown the street.
The afternoon is somewhat advanced and the occa-
sional glimpses which we get of the flower girl show that
her basket has been replenished but she does not move
quite so quickly as in the morning. Her limbs are get-
ting weary, and there is a pathetic little note in her voice
now as she offers her (lowers for sale.
But see ! on the bridge is the figure of a woman. No
need to hear her history, the face tells its own story of sin
and misery. She is looking down at the river which
flows sluggishly on ; down perhaps at her own reflection
in the water, down perhaps deeper still into her own soul.
The face is hardened and set arid there is scarcely a trace
of womanly likeness left. A life of sin and shame has
almost obliterated all that is good in her nature, almost I
say, for no one, no matter how low or degraded, can be
wholly bad. But here it is difficult to discern one soft
look, as she leans wearily over the railing of the bridge —
a silent, sad, sin-stained creature. Soon there is a sound
of wheels and gay laughter and a carriage rolls by, and
there can be no mistaking the nature and errand of the
occupants. A young girl, with sweet, pure face, all in
white, with white flowers in her hair and carrying a
bouquet of white flowers in her hand, is being driven
towards the church. Passing the solitary woman on the
bridge she picks a beautiful flower from the boquet she is
carrying and tosses it at her feet, for she wishes to-day
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
19
to make all whom she sees as happy as herself. A little
of the hard look leaves the woman's face as she stoops to
pick the flower. Mechanically she follows the carriage,
with stealthy steps and bated breath she enters the
church, choosing a dark corner where she will not be
observed, she sits listning to the clergyman as he pro-
ceeds with the marriage rites and not until all is over and
the lovely bride is passing down the aisle on the arm of
her husband, does she dare to raise her eyes, and as she
does so they meet the pure frank gaze of the lovely girl
who smiles in her face as she recognizes the woman to
whom she threw the flower.
The woman sits in her dark corner. Of what can
she be thinking ? Her head is bowed and on her face is
a look of agony. What a hell has arisen in her breast!
Her thoughts have wandered to her country home which
she has not seen for years. — To the time when she was
as pure as the young girl, who just pronounced her mar-
riage vows ; to the mother's blessing as she saw her young
daughter depart for the great city ; to the early days
when she first arrived and worked honestly for her bread;
to the pride she felt over the first money she sent home to
her old mother. Her thoughts wandered back to the
time when men and women turned to look at her fresh
rosy face on the street, wondering at her beauty which
partook so largely of the wild rose and mountain daisy.
Could this be the same woman, with the hardened face
and form covered with rags ? It seemed so long ago.
20
BOHEMIA N S0( 'IE T Y.
Then came the thoughts of striving with temptation,
then the promises made and broken, of ruin and shame,
then of the long illness, of dreadful poverty, and at last
she sees herself as she is, a ruined, homeless, sin-stained
creature. Oh the misery, the agony ! What hell can be
greater than this! While she is still sitting there the bell
begins to toll, and soon there is a procession moving
slowly up the aisle and four young boys are carrying a
little coffin. It too is covered with white flowers, placed
there by loving hands. In the coffin is a little waxen
form almost covered with the same beautiful flowers.
The clergyman who had read the marriage ceremony,
is now repeating the last sad rites for the dead. Again
they take up their burden and move slowly down the aisle.
As the coffin passes the woman, one of the white flowers
drops almost at her feet. She stoops reverently and
picks it up ; almost hesitatingly as if afraid her touch will
soil its purity, and placing it tenderly by the side of the
bridal flower she walks slowly from the church. Watch
her move along hurriedly, till she comes to a narrow alley
and stops in front of a wretched tenement house. Enter-
ing quickly she passes up the rickety stairs and goes
into a room where there is a little child upon a wretched
bed. Sickness and poverty have almost finished their
work. The child is sleeping and the woman steals
softly to the bed side and places the white flowers on its
breast. Even as she does so the little creature smiles in
its sleep. Perhaps the happy smiling face of the lovely
noil EM IAN SOCIETY.
91
bride has visited it in its slumber, or the spirit of the
dead babe has come with the Howers. to take the hand
of the sick child and h'ad it "across the river."
1 hear the voice of the Pessimist.
Pessimism is increasing daily. Any person who
takes tmie to think on the subject can not fail to see that
human misery is increasing. With all the boasted ad-
vantages of civilization, it has failed to bring happiness
into the lives of the people. The more enlightened
people become, the more they will recognize the fact
that knowledge does not bring happiness. Scientific dis-
coveries do not tend to lighten the load of human misery.
Since
"Man's disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world -and all our woe."
sin has gone on increasing, consequently there has been
more unhappiness. People are asking themselves daily
' IS life worth living," and most persons answer in the
22
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
negative. Are there any who grasp the prize for which
they have struggled ? If there are a few who succeed in
reaching to the height to which they aspire, they find
happiness is just as much beyond their reach as when
they first started in their career. In the middle ages the
magicians who created monsters were haunted by them
forever after. We are all haunted by dreams and
shadows. The dreams of happiness and the shadows of
disappointments. Looking back upon our past and
taking a retrospective glance at years gone by we find
our lives have been made up not oi great events — but of
a succession of disappointments. Each one is haunted
by ii phantom or ideal which they are vainly striving to
reach but seldom attain. The garden of hope seems to
bear well ; we put forth our hands to reach the fruit and
we find we have only the ashes of Dead Hopes.
As Shelly says : *
"First our pleasures, die — and then
Our hopes, and then our fears — and when
These are dead, the debt is due
Dust claims dust — and we die too."
It is bitter mockery to say that the man who strug-
gles for daily bread is happy. He may do his work un-
complainingly, but he cannot be happy. He gets to be
but little better that a machine and does his work
mechanically, perhaps never looking into his own heart,
to ask the question, "Is this a happy life .-*" Some writer
has said that there are two classes of people, those who are
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
93
driven to death and those who are bored to death. There
can be no sympathy between the rich and poor. There
is an impassible gulf that can never be crossed, 'I'he
man who has never known the want of money cannot
know the sorrows and struggles of the poor. ICach must
go his own way, the poor man to his pallet of straw ; the
rich man to his bed of down.
In the world of dreams all are equal. It is an un-
real world, true, but to many it is the happiest. In it
there are no distinctions. The woman who is old and
wrinkled and gray, who has known nothing but hard work
and sorrow in this world, in the land of dreams finds pleasure
she has never known. In spirit, she is in pleasant places,
carried back perhaps to scenes she loved in childhood, to
the old home ; sees pleasant faces of the almost forgotten
dead, is carried above and beyond the world of reality into
the dim shadowy land of dreams. Then comes the wak-
ing, and with the waking the regret of what^"might have
been."
In this land of dreams the rich may travel with the
poor, may revisit the same old scenes, see the same faces
of the dead, leave all that is "earth earthy,"jmd the spirit or
soul wander abroad, over land and seas and in dreams
kneel again at a mother's knee repeating the prayer she
taught and which has long since been forgotten, to awake
with regret to the cares which riches bring.
24
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
■i
i( :
There is one more journey which the rich and the
poor take together and that is down and through the
Valley of the Shadow of Death.
It is a curious study to watch the faces one meets
in a large city or town. Every face has a history,
every life a story, if we but take the trouble to read.
The face is but an index of the heart, and even in the
heart of the happiest the "muffled drums are beating."
As Longfellow so beautifully expresses it in
"Hyperion" "and then mark ! how amid the chorus of a
hundred voices and a hundred instruments — of flutes and
drums, and trumpets — this unreal shout and whirlwind of
the vexed air, you can so clearly distinguish the melan-
choly vibration of a single string touched by the finger—
a mournful sobbing sound. Ah this is indeed human life !
where in the rushing noisy crowd, and sounds of gladness,
and a thousand mingling emotions, distinctly audible to
the ear of thought, are the pulsations of some melancholy
string of the heart, touched by iin invisible hand."
:h and the
rough the
)ne meets
a history,
- to read,
en in the
ating."
tis it in
orus of a
Tutes and
rlwind of
le nielan-
: finofer —
man life !
gladness,
Jdible to
:Iancholy
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY. 3.
An Optimist, a pleasant, sweet f^iced woman, with
a voice like the chime of silver bells, is saying :
"It is only to morbid and diseased minds that exist-
ence looks colorless. People who live too much within
themselves, whose imagination becomes disordered see
only the dark side of life. It was not intended that life
should be all sunshine and no shadow."
"For life is one, and in its warp and woof,
There runs a thread of gold that glitters fair, '
And sometimes in the pattern shows most sweet
Where there are sombre colors."
Dark clouds must appear in the life of each, and
one of the great lessons of life is to learn to bear dis-
appointments philosophically, not sit down with folded
hands and watch the clouds approaching until our vision
becomes obscured. There is sunshine in the lives of
each and every one if they will but see it, and banish vain
regrets and useless repinings. Inertia causes a vast deal
of trouble.
"Lose this day loitering, t'will be the same story
To morrow, and the rest more dilatory
The indecision brings its own delays.
Are you in earnest .? Sieze this very minute !
What you can do or think you can, begin it !
Only engage, and then the mind grows heated,
Begin it, and the work will be completed."
Fortunately the day of fine ladyism has passed and
there are noble women who are not afraid nor ashamed
to take upon themselves the duties and responsibilities of
I!
l!i
26
BOHEMIAN aOCIETY.
life, women who do their work well and faithfully, duties
that perhaps in themselves are not noble, but by the
manner in which they are done the work in itself is
elevated. The common laborer who does his work well
and to the best of his ability is more to be commended
than the President who puts but half his energy in his
duties.
What can be more pitiful than the apathy and utter
uselessness of the would-be fine lady who is enmiied to
the last degree ; one perhaps with good ability who is
conscious of the fact that she is capable of something
better, would like to turn her attention to something use
ful, but is restrained from doing so by the fear of what
"society" will say. Any society which is worth knowing
will extend the right hand of fellowship to the self-reliant
noble woman, much more readily that to the useless
nonentity. Life to be pleasant must have an aim, an
object, and every one has been given some talent to make
use of and for such he or she must answer at "the last
great day."
Life can not but be pleasant to those who make nature
a study. There is a vast book open before us and every
one who chooses can open a page. The study will never
grow monotonous, for nature is constantly changing and
with lavish hand showers upon her children from her
great store house innumerable blessings, to those who
"see books in running brooks, sermons in stones and
good in everything."
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
27
From tht; fern by the way side to the study of
psychology — the most fascinating of all studies — there is
something in which all can interest themselves, but
more specially for women, for to me this seems woman's
kingdom. With much quicker perceptive faculties than
men, they are better able to see the finer more deli-
cate portion of nature's handiwork and mysteries. Un-
fortunately in small towns if a woman tries to investigate
spiritualism, she is immediately called a spiritualist. If
she takes an interest in mesmerism and psychology, she
is called visionary. If she takes an interest in the religi-
ous discussion of the day, she is called an atheist. If she
takes an interest in pathology she is called strong mhided ,
and who does not abhor the so-called strong minded
woman. A woman may be essentially womanly and take
an interest in all these things. Brain was given to
woman for reason and investigation, and "I rather choose
to endure the wounds of those darts which envy casteth at
novelty, than to go on safely and sleepily in the easy ways
of ancient mistakings." Life cannot but be pleasant to
those who are fond of books, "our silent companions."
They speak a language all their own and we can find
companionship for every mood, grave, gay, dreamy, dis-
cursive, philosophical and scientific.
If you are a busy worker in a large city and wish a
breath of country air, a breeze from the meadow, a ram-
ble along a country road, read Whittier's "Among the
Hills."
38
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
,
"Pleasant it was when woods were green
And winds we soft and low,
To lie amid some sylvan scene
Where shadows dark — and sunlight sheen,
Alternate come and go."
If you are weary with brain work and seek repose,
read Longfellow.
"And the cares that infest the day,
Shall told their tents like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away."
If in an heroic mood read Mihon.
"For with thee
Certain my resolution is to die,
How can I live without thee ? how forgo
Thy sweet converse, and love so dearly joined."
If fortune has smiled upon you and flattery falls sweet
on your ear, and you are in danger of forgetting the final
end of all ambition read "Grays Elegy."
"Can storied urn, or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ?
Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust
Or flattery sooth the dull cold ear of death ?"
If you wish to be transported to the mystic cloud-
land of fancy, read Hawthorne.
•'Sleeping or waking, we hear not the airy footsteps of
the strange things that almost happen. He knew not
that a phantom of wealth had thrown a golden hue upon
its waters. Nor that one of death had threatened to
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
29
crimson them with his blood, all in the brief hour since he
lay down to sleep."
To a dreamy and poetic mind what can be more
exquisite than these few lines: "The next morning
Heronymus put the the scroll into his bosom, and went
his way in search of the Fountain of Oblivion, A few
days brought him to the skirts of the Black forest. He
entered, not without a feeling of dread, that land of
shadows, and passed onward under melancholy pines and
cedars, whose branches grew abroad and mingled
together, and, as they swayed up and down, filled the air
with solemn twilight and a sound of sorrow. As he
advanced into the forest the waving moss hung, like cur-
tains, from the branches overhead, and more shut out
the light of heaven ; and he knew the Fountain of Obliv-
ion was not far off. Even then the sound of falling waters
was mingling with the roar of the pines above him ; and
ere long he came to a river, moving in solemn majesty
through the forest, and falling with a dull, leaden sound
into a motionless stagnant lake, above which the branches
of the forest met and mingled, forming perpetual night.
This was the Fountain of Oblivion. Upon its brink the
Student paused, and gazed into the dark waters with a
steadfast look. They were limpid waters dark with
shadows only. And as he gazed, he beheld, far down in
their silent depths, dim and ill-defined outlines, wavering
to and fro, like the folds of a white garment in the
twilight. Then more distinct and permanent shapes arose,
Fli
30
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
— shapes familiar to his mind, yet forgotten and remember-
ed again, as the fragments of a dream ; till at length, far,
far below him he beheld the great City of the Past, with
silent marble streets, and moss-grown walls, and spires up-
rising with a wave-like, flickering motion. And, amid the
crowd that thronged those streets he beheld faces once
familiar and dear to him ; and heard sorrowful, sweet
voices singing, O' forget us not ! forget us not !' and then
the distant, mournful sound of funeral bells, that were
tolling below, in the City of the Past/'
An artist is speaking :
A person may be a true artist, who has never made
a stroke with a brush. Any one who can blend colors
harmoniously or produce effective contrasts in dress, or
even in so trival a thing as fancy work, is an artist.
Again, one may paint for years without the slightest
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
31
knowledge of, or taste for true art. In painting a por-
trait, something more is required than the mere likeness,
something besides pink and white prettiness. Perhaps
in two or three centuries an artist is born, one who in paint-
ing a portrait produces almost a living, breathing crea-
ture ; and is able by his magic touch, to paint in the
thoughts which flit through the brain ; the feelings which
move the heart, and is able to read almost the very soul.
Many years ago a poor struggling painter in an
Italian studio, conceived the idea of painting a picture of
the Madonna. He shut his doors to visitors in order to
give full play to his imagination. Days and nights were
spent in dreaming and working, until he lost conscious-
ness of the outer world and only lived for his work, for
this picture, he was sure would make him famous. Days
rolled into weeks and weeks into months, and still the
realization of his dream seemed as for off as when he first
began. The figure was standing with hands clasped and
head bent in humble submission to the Divine will ; the
graceful, easy repose of the limbs, every curve and line was
perfect. But the face! It seemed at times as if he had
accomplished the great task, yet the expression always
eluded his most earnest efforts, the heavenly expression
of the Divine mother was wanting. At last, after many
failures and vain efforts, it occured to him to open his
doors to visitors and perchance he could catch the longed-
for expression from the faces of the women who might
visit him. As soon as it was announced that the artist
R
IP
32
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
had opened his doors, people came from neighboring
towns and cities, attracted as much by the desire to see
the strange person whom they thought a monomanic, as by
the wish to see the picture. Women of rank and fashion
arrived daily, and it was a curious study to watch the
intent gaze which he fixed upon them, hoping, praying, in
each one to find the desired expression. Occasionally
he would request some beautiful woman to remain stand-
ing in a certain attitude, when he fancied he had caught
the look for which he was striving, but it always proved
unsatisfactory, for often the stately robes covered an aching
heart which told its story very plainly on the canvass.
Again a lovely girl would be asked to pose, but here alas
was disappointment, for oftentimes the face expressed
prettiness, but nothing more. Then again the canvass
reflected the image of some worldly-wise woman with
selfishness stamped upon it. Again the look of envy
stared him in the face, or pride mocked at him while he
struggled vainly on. As the last resort a young
mother and her child were requested to favor him with a
sitting. Here he thought "I shall surely succeed." He
worked steadily on and success seemed at last before him.
The last stroke of the brush had been made and stepping
back to view the work, his heart sank within him, for
here he had succeeded in catching the look of lovely
maternity, with the expression of the earthly mother im-
printed thereon, but the combination of human love and
Divine motherhood was wanting.
ji!i
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
33
Just at nightfall, sick at heart, weary and discour-
aged, he wandered out into the streets, going on and on
until he found himself in the portion of the city inhabited
by the very poor ; passing an old church, he was attrac-
ted toward it, scarcely knowing how or why. On enter-
ing the door, .he saw a woman dressed in rags, kneeling
before the altar. The man gazed in wonder and awe, for
here amidst poverty and distress, he had found the ex-
pression vainly sought after, for weeks and months. In
the face before him, there was no envy, hatred or selfish-
ness, no vain glory or hypocricy, but the resigned look of
one who suffered but bowed, meekly to the chastizement.
At eventide, and alone, she had brought her sufferings to
the foot of the Cross.
I hear the voice of the Cynic.
Friendship is a myth. In prosperity and sunshine
you find yourself surrounded by flatterers and so called
friends, but let the waves of adversity beat about and
34
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
threaten to engulf you — then stretch forth your hands for
the friends you have known and you will find yourself
stranded and — alone. There may be a few timid, shrink-
ing creatures who feel they would like to give the right
hand of fellowship, but popular opinion and example
prove too much for their weak natures and it is but char-
ity to let them go.
"There are times when we are even inclined to smile
at our own misery, but it is the smile which brings
wrinkles instead of dimples."
'f, '
The Philosopher is saying :
"Time in its resistless onward sweep" has taught us
many things ; has disabused our minds of many false
ideas and erroneous views, has opened a new world to the
thinking mind — a world of thought. When God created
man he gave to him the divine instinct of reason, by
which all persons, high and low, rich and poor, can solve
for herself and himself the great problem of life. Very
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
35
young children can only see objects that come within easy
range of their vision ; they are in the world of instinct,
but after a time their vision becomes enlarged, they are
able to see a greater distance, and in the larger space ;
more to arrest the eye — then comes consciousness. After
consciousness ~ reason. The minds of many adults
are still in their infancy, only seeing in a small circle the
things by which they are surrounded and in close proxim-
ity. Others are in a state of consciousness and nothing
more. They live, they breath, they have their being, but
the great mysteries which surround them, the wonderful
problems of life, are as nothing to them. Then again
there is the mind that has reached the height of reason,
and to that mind what a vast world has opened before it.
The wonderful works of an all-wise Greater, the myster-
ies of nature that are so perplexing, are all open for the
investigation of the reasoning thinking mind.
"The venomous insect beneath our feet, and the
noblest and best of our domestic animals ; the terrible
forces of the earth, the tornado and valcano ; the gently
murmuring spring and the boisterous ocean ; the forest
monarch and the pale forget-me-not within its shade, are
all witnesses of a creative power."
From the animalculae up to Gods noblest work, man,
there is the evidence of an all-ruling power and intelli-
gence Interwoven and interlined through all nature's
great mysteries there is the mark of an invisible hand and
all-seeing power, which rules and guides the universe.
9 I
36 BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
"That very law which moulds a tear
And bids it trickle from its source,
That law preserves the earth a sphere
And guides the planets in their course."
It is by reason and investigation that we are permit-
ted to partially understand the strange mysteries of a
wonderful world. Each one must reason for himself
or what better are they intellectually, than the child who
only sees and cannot understand ? Had it not been lor
investigation and reason, we would still have believed the
earth to be flat, and, in the rising and setting of the sun.
There is a law governing all things. There is a
connecting link between earth, air and sea, between
flowers, beasts and birds, between mankind and all ani-
mals, and inanimite things, a mysterious joining of mind
to matter. It is an intangible something, perhaps an
electrical current, but certain it is that the line is there and
unbroken, and betwen every human creature whom God
has made, there is the same unbroken chain, which can be
followed up link by link, step by step, until we find our-
selves on the boundaries of the next world and perhaps
beyond ; who can tell ? The chain may be unbroken
even then.
What matters it if I do not believeP-perhaps because
I do no not understand your creeds, your dognas. What
matters it if I do not interpret the working of Gods ways
in the same manner which you do ?
1! I
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
37
There is the same principle guiding us all, and we
'IS
the
: permit-
ies of a
himself
hild who
been tor
ieved the
; the sun.
here is a
between
^d all ani-
of mind
laps an
there and
lom God
ch can be
find our-
1 perhaps
unbroken
>s because
;. What
ods ways
bow the head reverently to the one God who
same yesterday, to day and forever."
Nations, like individuals, pass through the usual form
of youth, manhood, old age, and decay. Religion, like
nations and individuals, passes through the regular grad-
ation, first of infancy, when religious ideas and thoughts
are crude in the extreme ; the age of Puritanism, when
innocent women and children are burned at the stake for
witchcraft, when with gloomy faces and in unsightly dress
the poor fanatics sacrificed every pleasure on the altar of
duty; the time when Sunday was a day of horror to children
from its gloom, a day when every innocent amusement
was forbidden. After religions infancy comes youth. At
that stage, the absurd dress and gloomy faces were not
considered essential adjuncts to religion, but free discus-
sion, was not allowed, upon religious subjects. Every-
thing must be taken for granted, without any investiga-
tion on the part of the people. After youth comes
manhood, the time when reason has full sway, when super-
stition and credulites form no part of religious teaching
and thought. People are able to think, to reason for them-
selves. After the age of manhood, comes old age and
that is the stage of agnosticism. Questions are being
asked, and ideas propounded which must not be over-
looked nor treated with contempt. All questions asked
in a fair spirit, must be answered in a fair manner. It is
not sufficient to say, "it is so*', but good and tangible
38
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
reasons must be given to prove the truth ot an assertion.
We are now^in the stage' of "old age." Agnosticism"and
Infidelity are wide spread. After old age comes'decay
and the decline of the absolutely orthodox. From time
immemorial, every religion has passed through the same
gradation, of infancy, youth, old age and decay finally
comes philosophy.
A Swedenborgian is speaking :
Down by the sounding sea, in a lonely cottage, lives
a woman, so wrinkled, old and bent that even death
seems to have forgotten her existence. It would be diffi-
cult to imagine that once she was a beauty, but true it is
that many years ago no fresher, fairer maiden could be
found than this same strange old woman. Sixty years
ago she had a sailor lover, who loved her truly and well.
On his return after every cruise it was a sight to soften
the heart of even the hardest, to witness the joyful meet-
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY. 35
ing, the lovers kiss, in which there was no shame, the
tears of joy in which there was no weakness ; the heart-
felt pleasure of two honest hearts. But the part-
ings were soon to be over, for after the next voyacre the
young lovers were to be wedded. The simple wedding
dress was made and all was ready. With gay snatches
of song, and merry feet the young girl flitted about the
house, impatiently waiting the day which was to bring
her lover. There was only one more day of waiting and
"to-morrow, to-morrow he comes," she sang. Early in
the evening dark clouds formed in the sky, the wind
began to moan, the waves beat high upon the shore
the murmering winds changed to howling blasts, the
waves rolled mountains high, the spirits of the sea and
air seemed to have arisen in their fury, doors rattled,
houses shook on .heir foundations—and to-morrow came
but no lover. The wedding clothes were laid away, and
the day which was to have seen the young girl made a
happy wife, found her a heart-broken stricken woman ;
and now she must take up her burden, and from month to
month and year to year, carry this leaden weight called a
heart.
The years rolled by taking with them her girlish
beauty, and leaving in its place the wrinkles of time and
sorrow. As time passed the idea took possesion of her
that her lover would still come back. True the vessel in
which he sailed had been wrecked, but still there I.„^..^
ed the one faint hope, and_every night she lit the hmp
nger-
ili
H
40
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY,
and placed it in the window as she had done in her youth,
as the beacon Hght for the absent love. As time passed
she followed her father to the grave and in a short time
stood by the bed of her dying mother. And now she
was alone in her loneliness and desolation. Every year
when the day came which was to have been her wedding
day, the white dress, which had grown yellow with age,
was taken out, folded and flowers scattered over it as
carefully as we would sprinkle flowers over a child's
grave, for in the box in which the garment lay, were
buried all her hopes. Does it not seem strange that one
can live on year after year, with no hope, no joy ; waken
in the morning with the thought that "here is another
day to be passed over," another night with the sad
dreams and gloomy awaking.
At the approach of a storm, when the clouds began
to gather, the solitary woman could be seen standing on
the shore gazing long and earnestly over the dark waters.
But at last it was with difiiculty that she dragged herself
to the beach and her hands trembled so that she
could scarcely light the lamp for the window, but she said
to herself "he will surely come," for if faith, hope and
long suffering, if patient waiting, prayers and longing
have power to affect disembodied spirits, my faith will
surely be rewarded.
And now another year has passed and again the
anniversary of the sad day has dawned. With trembling,
withered hands, she once more unfolds the wedding dress.
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY. .^
She must make one more visit to the shore, for she feels it
will be for the last time, as with slow uncertain steps she
drags herself along. And now as night approaches she
IS too ill to light the lamp.
Neighbors miss the accustomed light, find the lonely
woman too ill to rise, and they know that in a few hours
all will be over. They lit the lamp to humor the whim
of a dying woman. The winds began to moan fitfully ; the
waves could be heard dashing on the shore, while the licdu-
nmg flashed and illuminated the room in which the woman
ay. There is something weird in the whole scene-the
lighted lamp for the lover, dead over half a century the
dying woman, the moaning wind, and the sound of the
waters. And now she is muttering in her dreams, and
talking to her lover, she has forgotten all the years that
have passed, and is bidding him a joyous welcome and
while the storm is at its height, a smile of tenderness
has passed over the face of the old creature, making her
look almost young, when the door opens ; a fio-ure in a
wet winding sheet, with hair in which was mingled sea
weed, glides to the bed-side, a whispered utterance from
the dying woman, "he has come." the figure moves again
to the door. An invisible power has extinguished th.
light, and the flame of the lamp and the woman's soul, have "
gone out together, while from the bedside to the door
there is the trail of wet garments.
42
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
w
Again I hear the voice of the Cynic.
This is an aije of shoddyism, and it is difficult at
times to distini^uish the real from the sham. The woman
who is covered with jewelry, lookinjr like a travelling door-
plate, is the kind from whom we expect the bow to vary, in
coldness or cordiality, according to the clothes we wear,
or the entertainments we are able to give. With such
people money means everything, brains and breeding
being secondary considerations. And it is very amusing
on meeting Madam Shoddy to note the look with which
she scans one from head to foot, balancing in her mind
the cost of each article of apparel, her mind wholly given
up to dollars and cents, and woe unto the person, who
does not come up to the proper standard, of pounds, shil-
lings and pence.
In talking with such a one you will find their conver-
sation frequently interlarded with the use of the words
/aiilies and gentlemen. But madam shoddy does really
very little actual harm, all these things being a harmless
sort of imbecility.
But at the hands of Madam Snob, one will not fare as
well, for having nothing noble in her own nature she is con-
stantly picking flaws in the character of others. Madam
Snob will entertain you with a long account of her family
connections. Poor soul she is constantly resurrecting the
remains of dead and gone ancestors ; her life is spent in
the charnel house, being very careful however, to let the
remains of a certain few rest in peace, while she rattles
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY. 4-
the dry bones of her favored ones in our face, until we are
tempted to cry "peace." At last our curiosity is aroused,
and we make inquiries as to these noble ancestors, and
find the overwhelming fact-that they had been born !
and that they had died ! very noble of them to have been
born, and very heroic, to have died. If the successors
would follow their illustrious example in the last act the
world would still exist. But you say "this is harmless
and only another form of idiocy." True if it stopped
there, no harm would be done. But did any one ever
know Madam Snob to stop there ? After having visited
her fam.ly vault, you are requested to enter the abode of
your neighbor's dead, and then your turn will come next
and you are asked by madam to unearth your dead.
Now to people who know little and care less about their
great, great, great grandfather, all this is very amusing.
If the Bible be true, and who can doubt it ? there was a^n
ark built in which God's chosen were placed for safety.
Now aiiy one is safe in saying "my ancestry dates from
the ark" but I think it would be rather difficult for a
person to trace their ancestry from the time the chosen
few stepped from the ark to dry land, down to the
present time. But every one has some imagination and
m order to gratify Madam Snob's curiosity, just make use
of It. Tell her some were hanged, some were drowned,
some were in prison for debt, one fought in the War of
the Roses, one was killed in a street brawl, another
hanged for treason. Tell her-well tell her anythir.^ ijiat
' ill
1 I
44
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
will satisfy her curiosity, for there are times wlien an
elastic conscience is excusable. There is another Madam
Snob, who not knowing in the slightest degree what con-
stitutes a lady, is ignorant of the fact that a lady is civil to
everyone ; this madam is uncivil to her servants, but
does not iitsitote to gossip with them, is careless, in
speech and manner, in the presence of inferiors, in fact is
guided wholly in matters of civility by the position in
which the people are in, whom she is with ; is constantly
talking oi socu(y, and turning up her aristocratic nose
at trades-peop]' and in nine cases out of ten, her
father was r> cobbler, or kept a peanut stand, neither of
which woul J. do he* any liarm. if she only knew that
"silence is golden.'' V^'e say, ^/la^ is the lowest form of
sno6 feinine and rarely met with.
There is another form of snobbery which is not so
easily recognized, and recjuires a good judge of human
nature to detect. This Madam Snob is one who should be
a lady, for by education and good breeding she is entitled
to the name. Now, she really posses a good, kind heart,
is kind to the poor, tries to do her duty, but away down,
under several layers of good intentions, there is a little
taint of snobbery, and she really has not the moral courage
to rid herself of it. This Mrs. Snob may have a large
circle of friends, but to each one she accords a different
reception ; to all she is kind, remember, but you can
judge of her opinion of different ones, from the invita-
tions which she issues. First in her estimation, come the
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
45
\ an
Llam
Gon-
dii to
but
,s, in
ict is
3n in
antly
nose
I, her
ler of
r that
rm of
fashionable people, those she asks to her dinner parties ;
then the people whose position in life is not very good,
she asks to luncheon ; then at last, come those whom she
really does not know how to place, and they are the ones
she asks to meet her alone.
Now this poor woman, for whom I have a degree of
pity, not unmixed with contempt, is in a constant struggle
with herself, in her desire to do what she thinks to be
right, and at the same time, do everything that her
neighbors do, for she is bound hand and foot and dare
not make an independent move. But if Mrs. Fitznoodle
were to do certain things, Mrs. P'itzsnob would follow
her example, and the people who are asked to meet their
hostess — alone, might find themselves seated around the
mahogany with Mr. and Mrs. Fitznoodle and daughters
and a select circle of little Noodles.
Again, Mrs. Fitznoodle, with several marriagable
daughters, is constantly on the lookout for unwary young
men, ignoring the fact of their want of brains, lack of
breeding, and wholly regardless of the fact that they have
ro "family" connections, but she spreads her net and per-
haps succeeds in catching this "elegible" young man.
Mrs. Fritzsnob immediately sees something in that
young man to admire, and seeks his acquaintance, and
much to his surprise, and to the surprise of everyone else,
he finds himself for the first time in what is termed good
society. Now this Mrs. Fitzsnob is not a rara arts, but
is frequently met with. Yet how many ladies do
46 BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
we see ? We meet many calling themselves such, who
do not hesitate to talk scandal, to injure their neighbors ;
to ridicule people, to accept of hospitality and comment
ill-naturedly upon it, to talk slang. All these things and
more, people do who call themselves, ladies. There are
houses on which should be placed signs, as on pest houses,
and whose occupants should be labelled "dangerous," for
their tongues are more dangerous than the sting of the
adder, and they are in so-called "society." Heaven save
the mark !
Woman, the most perfect of all God's work, why do
you not scourge society of scandal mongers, of snobs ?
Why do you not iiare to do what you think and know to
be right ? Why will you allow yourselves to be ruled
and guided by the opinion of others ? A woman's in-
s.tinct is her safest guide ; if she follows it she will not err.
It is not women alone, who are tainted with snob-
bishness and shoddyism, but how frequently we see it in
men, generally those who have very little brain and often
in those whom the world calls self-made-men. Now there
is nothing in the world so aggressive as the same self-
made-man. The air with which he moves along, as
though upon him depended the revolution of the world on
its axis, and the safety and welfare of its inhabitants. He
never allows himself, nor others, to forget the fact that he
is self-made. The laborer, who, by dint of hard work
and economy, has succeeded in making a little money ;
with what eagerness he tries to gain some petty office,
B.''^"J
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
47
/ho
»rs ;
icnt
and
are
ises,
' for
the
save
ly do
obs?
)W to
ruled
's in-
tern
snob-
it in
often
there
self-
iig, as
rid on
He
hat he
work
[oney ;
office,
and in a few years his daughters will tell us that they
" belong to the old families." How much old families
have got to answer for ! It would sound refreshing in
this age of snobbery, to see some one who did not con-
sider themselves "as belonging to one of the old families."
The male snob has developed within the past year, into
the dude. By a process of evolution, which Darwin un-
doubtedly could have traced, we have him before us in
all his beauty. To commence, first, he must have a
little money, with that he buys a tight fitting suit of
clothes, a diamond ring, a gold headed cane, a very small
hat, carries his arms akimbo, and in all the perfection of
loveliness, he stands out, a thing apart from the rest of
humanity. Perhaps in two or three centuries, the process
of evolution taking place all the time, something may be
put into the small cranium, which will be called a "brain,"
but it must evolute rapidly or the sun will have cooled,
and there will be another glacial period before that event
takes place.
Then we have before us the man with three hundred
dollars a ye:ir income, who apes the manner of the gentle-
man of leisure.
And now again we have what may be called an in-
tellectual snob ; the man who has a fair share of brain,
but not sufficient to make a name for himself, not enough
to make himself distinguished in any way. So where, honest
candor would expose him, he a[jes the manner of clever
men, allowing himself to get decidedly "out at elbows," to
m
48
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
we arclothes which clccidcdly require brushing, seats him-
self in a corner as though pondering some weighty matter,
tries to look profound — when he probably looks simply,
stupid. This is intellectual snobbishness. How many
people we meet who cover their ignorance by a look of
profundity.
When will people learn that snobbery is the evidence
of a small mind, and that shoddyism is the proof of
a vulgar one ? How long before people will be convinced
of the fact, that, education, talent, and good breeding, are
the most essential requisites for success.
The psychologist says.
In dreams, and profound reveries we forget our
surroundings, we travel over land and seas, through
sunny lands, and many persons tell us that it !s simply
the mind which creates, the mind which travels. Not so ;
it is the soul which journies forth and is actually in
those places, having left the body while it wanders alone.
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
49
our
)ugh
(mply
)t so ;
in
lilone.
A person lyint,'' chmgcrously ill, suffering acute pain,
is given a narcotic and after a time, sleep is produced.
The pain-racked body lies there motionless as a lump of
clay, pain is forgotten but the soul takes a journey, and
for a time revels in joy, flits through a shady grove, or
stops for a moment beside a running brook, scales lofty
heights or lingers in a lovely valley ; the effect of the nar-
cotic wears off, pain returns and the pleasant vision is
ended. Now the mind could not have created these
pleasant scenes, for as everyone knows, there is complete
sym[>athy between the body and mind, and a diseased,
pain-tossed body, would produce a diseased mind. Be-
tween sleep and death there is a wonderful similarity.
In sleep the soul wanders forth and returns to the body,
in death it journeys over the broad sea of eternity
into the great unknown. Have you ever stood at the
bedside of a dying child and seen the look of joy that
passes over its face ? In many instances the child being
too young to reason, too young to create for itself plea-
sant scenes. Then what could have produced the estatic
joy ? I stood by the bed of a dying child, a mere
infant. The little sufferer had lain unconscious during
the day, efforts were made to arouse it, the mother was
bending over the bed anxious for one look of recognition,
but the efforts were useless, the stupor continued until
suddenly, to the surprise of the watchers, the little crea-
ture raised its hand, and pointed upward, with a smile of
perfect joy, and at that moment the soul winged its flight.
iSSM
5"
non KMiA N aoci ety.
Materialists will say the child had been told of the
beauties of another world, and at the last moment memory
and reason returned, and the beauties which had been
depicted, were suddenly repealled to mind. But in this in-
stance the child was too youn<^ to have been told pleasinj^
stories ; and the mind could not have created for itself a
vision. Then what was it ? At the moment of dissolu-
tion the soul had llitted through the gates of the eternal
city.
A study in sombre tints :
In one of the large cities in the wretched portion
where men, women and children hive together, there lived
— or existed — a little boy, so small, so insignificant, that
the people with whom he came in contact would scarcely
have considered him worthy of mention. He was a wee
specimen of humanity with flaxen hair and blue eyes, and
people who stopped to notice him at all, saw something
so strange, so pathetic in the childish look, that they in-
voluntarily turned to look again. He spent the days sel-
noiIEMIAN SOCIETY.
51
f the
mory
been
us in-
:asinj^
self a
ssolu-
ternal
)ortion
lived
It, that
:arcely
a wee
s, and
ithing
ey
ys
in-
sel-
ling matches ; the nights he spent as he could, in empty
boxes, on bundles of straw, in miserable alleys, any-
where, where night overtook him. There was no one
to make enquiries, for he was alone, alone in the great
city, alone in the world. One stormy night a woman
found her way to one of the wretched tenement houses,
bearing in her arms a tiny burden. One of the inhabi-
tants, more kindly than the rest, took her in, gave her the
only bed they had, a pallet of straw, on which she lay fcr
a few days, making no complaint, giving little trouble.
The women saw at a glance that she was a different order
of being from themselves, that she belonged to another
world than theirs. But by what chance had she wander-
ed there ? Questions were asked but no answers return-
ed. She simply asked to be lelt alone. In a short time
she died, leaving behind the litrlc bundle of humanity,
bequeathing to him nothing but ' r own sensitive nature,
the same blue eyes and flaxen hair, and the name "Ned,"
nothing more. They buried her in the potter's field, and
a life's tragedy was ended. Little Ned lived among them,
getting more blows than kind words, nearly always
hungry, but never complaining. If they gave him food
he ate it ; if he got none, he never murmured. The
rough women, involuntarily, lowered their voices when
little Ned was present, for there was something they
could never comprehend about the strange child. They
felt he was with them but not of them. He was unlike
the children in the street, never seeking, but shunning
52
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
!:i
M
their society. After a time he was old enough to go on
the street and sell matches, and it was a relief to the
women when he was gone, for then there was no res-
traint, and the little lonely waif was turned adrift. Little
Ned seemed never quite alone, for he frequently talked
alone, asked questions which seemed to have been an-
swered —in fact lived in a world, peopled by his own
childish fancy, and passed unharmed through danger and
sin, where one, more conscious of evil, would have fallen.
How unlike the world he was in, was the one he pictured
to himself. At night he crawled into empty boxes, scarcely
knowing vhat it was to go to sleep without feeling
hungry, but the Goddess of dreams wove golden threads
through the brain of little Ned, weaving her most brilliant
colors, through the warp and woof of his childish dreams,
as if in compensation for the sombre colors and gloom of
his waking moments, and no child lying on his bed of
down, placed there by the careful hands of nurse, and
receiving the mother's good night kiss, ever had sweeter,
purer dreams, than the friendless, homeless match-seller
on his bed of straw. Mothers, do you ever think when
you see your children safe in their warm beds, of the
numberless little waifs in large cities, whose resting
places are pallets of straw, whose good night kisses are
the cold breath of poverty ?
There was very little variety in the life of little Ned.
Waking in the morning, he would start out with the
matches, selling them if he could, if not, hunger, to which
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY. 33
he was so accustomed, was his companion. So from day
today it was the same story, the only variation, the only
change was in his dreams and visions ; lumger coi,14 not
deprive liim of that solace, the cold could not freeze
the warm fancies and imaginations. One mornin<T
in early spring little Ned awoke from his pleasant dreams
and started on his route. Passing numberless people
some stopped to look at him carefully, for his face had
such a strange look, his eyes had such a dreamy expres-
sion, and at times he smiled to himself as he moved
along. But people did not not stop long, for who in a
large, busy city has time to enquire mto the life and
means of living of a little match s Jler. All day long, he
trudged his weary way, and towards night-fall he found
himself nearer the suburbs than he had ever been before
He passes a house which is brilliantly lighted, and strains
of gay music reach his ear Moving to the window, which
was open, he gazes with open-eyed wonder at the sc^ne
within, it is evidently a children's party for little fairy
forms are flitting about in a merry dance, and al! is
light, warmth and happiness, while outside with his face
pressed close to the window stands little Ned. His
flaxen hair is blown by the wind, his blue eyes onen to
their widest extent as he looks at the gay scene, of which
he fo -ms no part. Inside, all is happiness, outside is the
gloom of night, and the desolate figure of little Ned
He turns away with a sigh, turns away from the happi-
ness he has never known, into the darkness with which
54
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
m I
! ;
he is so familiar. He has grown very hungry, having
eaten nothing since noon. Seeing a woman before a
handsome carriage, he tells his story, but it falls on stony
ground, the woman has nothing to give, and leaves him
standing there, while she dries away. " O, the rarity of
Christian charity ! " Such are the women whose names
very often head the list of subscriptions for Christian mis-
sions, but who turn a deaf ear to the sorrows of people at
their own door ; but if they give to the poor in secret no
one will know it, while if they head a list with a large
sum, they will be called good Christian women.
Little Ned starts again, trudging bravely on, foot-
sore and hungry, and now he is in a strange part of the
city, a place entirely new to him. A large building
attracts his attention, and the sounds of voices reach his
ear. Going to the door he sees a clergyman — a young man
— talking earnestly to a group of rough looking men, evi-
dently working men. The speaker does not stand aloof
from them as though afraid to come in contact with them,
but is talking freely, and has succeeded in getting their
undivided attention, has won their hearts by his sympathy
with them, has shown them that he is like themselves — sub-
ject to human errors and weakness, and these rough men
are listening attentively, as they would never do to lengthy
discourses about things of which they knew nothing.
Here was a Christian — thank heaven there are such —
who has not placed himself on a lofty pedestal, while the
hearers feel that he is far from them both in heart and
II
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
55
men
igthy
|;hing.
ich—
le the
It and
sympathy, but they feel that he is a man like themselves; he
has touched the human part of their natures, and the rest
will be easy. Little Ned listened, for the minister was
speaking of things with which the listeners were familiar;
of sin, of sorrow, of temptations, speaking cheerful words
of comfort, leading them step by step to something higher
and holier than they had ever dreamed of. At last, in
language they could all understand, he told them of an-
other life, another world where sin and sorrow could not
enter. The child listened, and as he left the building
hunger and fatigue were forgotten. Only half compre-
hendiig what the clergyman had said, only remembering
in a jonfused way that he had spoken of a brighter world ;
one wholly unlike this one, one in which there would be
lio more hunger and cold, no more blows and harsh
usuage, the little fellow started in search, resolved to find
it. Surely it could not be verydifficult to find, and it must be
some place outside this great city. Little Ned started on
his search, going towards the open country, toward the
place where the moon was rising, never doubting, never
fearing, but that he would succeed. Day after day he wan-
dered on, eating berries which he founr by the wayside,
and occasionally asking for something to eat. He slept
in the open air, for he knew no fear ; his brain still weav-
ing the golden threads ; still talking to invisible spirits ;
his face looking so sjMritual that one was not surprised
that strange tongues spoke a strange language to the
lonely boy. He has wandered on until his feet are sore
56
BO HE MIA N SOCIE T Y.
and a feeling of weariness steals over him; he looks around
and finds that he is no nearer than when he started to the
l)right world which the clergyman had talked about. So
he resolves to turn, to go back to the place where he had
seen the minister, and ask him to show him the way.
Back he turns on his long journey. Step by step, slowly
and wearily he trudges along, his eyes have grown larger,
his skin more transparent, and each day finds him a little
weaker, but he feels that he must go on. Strange voices
are speaking to him more frequently than ever, and his
dreams are filled with visions of the new world of which
he has heard, and now he has almost reached his journeys
end, but it requires a great effort for him to move, he is
so foot-sore and weary, but the voices are urging him on
and at last the building is in sight. He drags himself
wearily to the door. It is night and the door is open —
the place is deserted, but he throws himself down on the
lloor with a sigh of contentment. The next morning
they found him with his hands clasped and face upturned
to the skies. The blue eyes were opened wide, the lips
parted in a ha[)py smile, and poor little lonely Ned had
found the "bright world."
Mi
! ;
I i
f i
i i
' I
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
57
The Poet says :
So many abler tongues and pens than mine have
chosen the St. Lawrence as a theme on which they have
written love songs, romances and legends, that it would
Ill-become me to even attempt the subject. A writer,
many years ago, while paddling up the river and amonn^
the Islands, expressed himself thus : "As the sun se*t
below the islands the full moon rose in all her beauty.
The light evening breeze had subsided into a calm ; not
a breath of air ruffled the glassy waters.
Impressed with the solemnity of the scene, I could
not refrain from wishing that here, at least, Nature might
be permitted to reign unmolested, but the solitary watch-
fires of the recent settlers gave proof that though his
tenure was yet but frail, man ! rapacious and indefati-
gable man ! was fast establishing usurpation." This was
written many years ago. What would be the astonish-
ment of the writer, if he could revisit the scene. Would
he think it improvement or desecration ? On the islands
cottages are built, and well kept lawns, sloping down to
the water, are brightened by the bright dresses of women
and children, and in some places the modern game of
lawn tennis is being played, and everything shows that
Nature has not been allowed to reign unmolested
Steamboats are plying from place to place ; pleasure
seekers lift their voices to hear the sounds re-echoed from
island to island, from shore to shore, until the faint rever-
beration is lost among the murmuring pines. Surely the
FfTT
58
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
crags and trees, the pines and poplars, are tempted to return
the echo as a protest against this invasion. If the sensi-
bilities were quickened to the sounds of nature, the words
re-echoed would be " leave us alone in our solitude."
The St. Lawrence does not speak to our hearts of
deep tragedies, but breathes into the soul a spirit of
love.
"When Eve plucked death from the tree of life and
brought tears of sorrow upon earth, Adam was driven out
into the world to mourn with her, and taste from the bitter
spring that we drink to-day."
" Then angels on their wings, bore the silent Eden
to the eternal spheres on high, and placed it in the heavens
— but in passing through space, they dropped along the
way, to mark their course, some flowers from the garden
divine. These flowers of chanofine hues, fallinir into the
great river, became the Thousand Isles — the Paradise of
the St. Lawrence."
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY
59
It is a study to watch the different expressions
and manners of the people whom we meet. There is the
woman who, on meeting, makes one feel that they have
passed through some difficult surgical operation, her look
is so hard and penetrating, like the surgeon's knife. Then
another with an expression so benevolent, so charitable,
that one is inclined to turn acrain to catch one more
glimpse of the kindly face. A little farther on we see a
young girl, with a look so joyous and happy, so entirely
free from from care, that we are impelled to search for the
rosy glasses through which she views life. Time, the
dispeller of all golden hued visions, has left her mind un-
touched, and she retains the joyous dreams of youth.
There is another with a look of discontent, amount-
ing to almost misery. The rose-colored glasses have
been broken early, and she is gazing through the murky,
cloudy atmosphere of discontent. Another young girl is
passing, and look closely ! her face is a study, with its
varying expression, reflecting every passing mood, then
gay, now sad. The world either hardens or breaks the
heart. Which process is her heart undergoing ? In a
few years, meeting her again, the face will be the page on
which the story will be written in full, either in sombre
tints or golden gleams.
Once more look at the daintily dressed woman com-
ing down the street. She was made for sunsJiine and
happiness, adversity would kill her. There are women
who give one the impression that they should have all
6o
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
I'
i'
f f
the good gifts which the gods provide, should be care-
fully looked after, tenderly cared for, they will share your
joys, but no need to tell them your sorrows, for what
can they know of sorrow ? they whose feet have always
travelled in smooth places. Refinement of manner and
delicacy of feeling are essential qualities for every lady ;
but spare us the " dainty " woman. In hospitals there
are women, educated and refined, who witness sights
daily which cause them to sicken and shudder, but they
are none the less refined, because they look upon the suf-
fering of some poor mortal, none the less ladies, because
they assist in alleviating the distress of their own kind.
But *' dainty," they can not be, thank heaven ! It is the
dainty woman who, if she sees a diseased, shabbily
dressed mortal in trouble, passes quickly to the other side
for fear of contamination, if she sees a child in distress
hesitates, before offering help, to see if it is cleanly, and
then the hand she offers is so nerveless, helpless and life-
less, so weak and vacillating that perhaps it would have
been just as well had she gone on her dainty way.
Again there are people who shut themselves in an
armour of selfishness, impervious alike to gaunt poverty
and hollovv-eyed sorrow. From the crown of their heads
to the soles of their feet is their world, they can
neither see nor hear beyond it. The good qualities of
their neighbors are seen through the large end of a tele-
scope, appearing very small and a long way off, while
their own are magnified until they at last look upon them-
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
6i
in an
overty
heads
can
ties of
1 tele-
while
them-
selves as being the personification of all that is good and
holy, and it is very amusing to study such a one, to watch
her manner of addressing others. I^'rom the lofty pedes-
tal of her own conceit, she allows some poor mortal to
approach her shrine, but her manner says, " so far shalt
thou come and no farther." Of what is she afraid ? Has
she fear of contamination .'* Is her goodness and purity
of such a perishable nature that she fears pollution .-*
Do not ferr. If you possess innate goodness and
womanly qualities you can pass through dangers unharm-
ed, you ran walk in the midst of sin and it will not touch
you, you can take the hand of vice and it will leave no
stain. From the height of your own purity do not look
with scorn upon some less fortunate mortal, do not turn
away in disgust, but examine closely, and underlying the
outer crust of wickedness and sin, you will be astonished
at the amount of good you can find, even in the most de-
praved. The human heart is a strange compound, made
up of love and hate, of joy and sorrow, hope and despair,
and who is able to read it ? Who is able to understand
the sorrows, struggles and temptations of others, and who
is competent to take upon himself the task of judging ?
Every beat of the heart gives us a glimpse, either of
heaven inspired love, ur hell-born hate, of the sun-lit river
of joy, or the gloom of sorrow, the golden gleam of hope
or the stagnant pool of despair. Is it not strange that in
all the workings of nature there is complete harmony ;
the whispering trees, the murmuring winds, the lowing
6a
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
■
u\
]'''■
!) '
herds, all speak a language of their own, while man is the
only animal which makes war with his kind ? The love
of riches, the desire of gain, the pride of ambition takes
possession of his mind to the exclusion of all else. In
battle, soldiers walk over the dead bodies of friends and
foes alike, unmoved, the only thought, the only desire is
to win ; the groans of the dying are drowned in the
exultant shouts of the living as they find themselves vic-
torious. In the battle of life there are many who, in their
desire to win at all hazards, walk over the bodies of fallen
enemies, and heed not the groans of even their friends.
In all this worry and strife, all the weariness of body and
brain, how few stop to enquire of themselves the means
they are taking to attain their aim. Some have taken a
step higher by walking over the body of a brother who has
fallen by the wayside, wearied a^id heart sore, and if he
succeeds in reaching the top-most rung of the ladder,
envious tongues and slanderous epithets will reach him
there, while if he falls he will carry with him the sneers
and taunts of his fellow men. In this vast universe
there is room for all, no need to jostle and crowd your
neighbor. If he succeeds, while you fail, it will not better
your condition to slander and vilify ; if he fails while you
win you will never regret having offered the hand in good
will and fellowship. Many a heart has been softened,
many a burden made lighter, by a few kind, cheerful
words. There are none so low, none so degraded, as to
be beneath consideration. To take the hand of the
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
hardest criminal will not coiitaminatu—
ta^ious.
63
vicu IS not con-
Joaquin Miller says :
Is it worth while that we jostle a brother,
Bearing his load on the rough road ot life ?
Is it worth while that we jeer at each other,
In blackness of heart that we war to the knile ?
God pity us all in our pitiful strife.
God pity us all as we jostle each other,
God pardon us all for the triumph we feel,
When a fello.v goes down 'neath his load on'the heather.
Pierced to the heart by words keener than steel
And mightier iar for woe than for weal.
Were it not well, in his brief little journey.
On over the isthmus, down into the tide,
We give him a fish instead of a serpent,
Ere fol ling the hands to be and abide
Forever, and aye. in dust at his side ?
Look at the roses saluting each other ;
Look at the herds all in peace on the plain,
Man, and man only, makes war on his brother
And laughs in his heart at his perils and pain.
Shamed by the beasts that go down on the pla'in.
It is worth while that we battle to humble
Some poor fellow down into the dust ?
God pity us all ! Time too soon will tumble
AH of us together, likes leaves in the gust,
Humbled, indeed, down into the dust.
64
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
■ i
■!
A woman was sjjcaking who was dressed in soft
white which cUing to her shght form, and gave one the
idea of a statue ; a Galatea without a soul.
Fatalism had wound its slimy Holds about her and
she was unable to free herself from its chilling embrace.
There is an old German legend which runs thus, "V^ineta
was an old fortified place by the sea and the capital of an
ancient nation. Her dominion extended over the neigh-
boring coasts and over the waves where she ruled
supreme. Unparalled in splendor and greatness, count-
less treasures flowed in to her from other lands, but pride
presumption and the sins of her inhabitants brought down
the chastisement of Heaven upon her and she sank,
swallowed up by the waves." The sailors still affirm that
the fortress of V^ineta lies uninjured at the bottom of the
sea. Th(iy say that deep down in the water, they catch
a glimpse of towers and cupalos, hear the bells ring, and
at enchanted hours, the whole fairy city rises out of the
depths and shows itself to a favored few. The old legend
tells us that the one who has once looked on the lost
Vineta, has once heard the sounds of her bells, is pursued
all his life by a longing which bears him no rest until the
enchanted city rises before him once more — or draws him
down below unto the depths. The unfortunate person
who has once gazed upon the ghastly ruins of Fatalism,
knows no peace, but like the legend of Vineta, i "ill
him down to misery and distruction.
BOHEMIAN SOCIETY.
65
in soft
)nc the
her and
mbnice.
"Vinetii
ill of an
J ncigh-
c ruled
;, count-
ut pride
ht down
le sank,
Firm that
11 of the
ey catch
ng, and
of the
legend
the lost
Dursued
intil the
aws him
person
"atalism.
The lady was saying :
We are but clay in the hands of the potter, Nothing
we do can change the current of our lives. The hand of
Fate is over all, leading us on, whether it be for good or
for ill. From the cradle to the grave, from birth to death,
there is a power ruling our destinies. In infancy our
cradles are rocked by the invisible hand of fate, in middle
age we are driven by it, in old age we are led by the same
hand. I see before me a vessel starting out under full sail.
The sky is clear ; the air soft and balmy, and everything
speaks of a favorable voyage, but when in mid -ocean, the
sky grows dark, the wind arises, the waves roll higher
and higher ; soon the vessel gets beyond control, and
the sailors find themselves drifting towards the breakers
Efforts are redoubled, all that human energy can do is
done, but of no avail. F'ate is beckoning them onward
to their doom. We see a boy starting out in life full of
youthful hopes and boyant in health, happiness and
strength. He sees in his mind's eye a thousand chances
of success. Life is before him and there is one haven he
must reach before his ambition is gratified. About mid-
way in his career he stops. Clouds gather and he finds he
has been driven from his course by adverse winds and
tides — struggle as he may his efforts are futile for fate
has intervened. The hand of destiny has led him, per-
haps to n 'sery, perchance to happiness, but which-ever it
proves to be, he finds there is a hand, shaping, ruling,
guiding, and that is the hand of Fate.