The Project Gutenberg eBook ofAlmost a Woman

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofAlmost a WomanThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Almost a WomanAuthor: Mary Wood-AllenRelease date: April 2, 2010 [eBook #31861]Most recently updated: January 6, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Meredith Bach, Katherine Ward, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisbook was produced from scanned images of public domainmaterial from the Google Print project.)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALMOST A WOMAN ***

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Almost a WomanAuthor: Mary Wood-AllenRelease date: April 2, 2010 [eBook #31861]Most recently updated: January 6, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Meredith Bach, Katherine Ward, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisbook was produced from scanned images of public domainmaterial from the Google Print project.)

Title: Almost a Woman

Author: Mary Wood-Allen

Release date: April 2, 2010 [eBook #31861]Most recently updated: January 6, 2021

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Meredith Bach, Katherine Ward, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisbook was produced from scanned images of public domainmaterial from the Google Print project.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALMOST A WOMAN ***

Mary Wood-Allen, M. D.

TEACHING TRUTH SERIESALMOST A WOMANBy Mary Wood-Allen, M. D.Author of “Teaching Truth”; “Almost a Man”; “Child-Confidence Rewarded;” “Caring for the Baby”; “The Man Wonderful”; “Ideal Married Life;” Etc.“Standing with reluctant feetWhere the brook and river meet,Womanhood and childhood fleet!Like the swell of some sweet tuneMorning rises into noon,May glides onward into June.”—Longfellow.“Earth’s noblest thing, a woman perfected.”—James Russell Lowell.PUBLISHED BYTHE ARTHUR H. CRIST CO.Cooperstown, N. Y.1911Copyrighted byCRIST, SCOTT & PARSHALL1907All Rights Reserved.Entered at Stationer’s Hall.

TEACHING TRUTH SERIES

By Mary Wood-Allen, M. D.

Author of “Teaching Truth”; “Almost a Man”; “Child-Confidence Rewarded;” “Caring for the Baby”; “The Man Wonderful”; “Ideal Married Life;” Etc.

“Standing with reluctant feetWhere the brook and river meet,Womanhood and childhood fleet!Like the swell of some sweet tuneMorning rises into noon,May glides onward into June.”—Longfellow.“Earth’s noblest thing, a woman perfected.”—James Russell Lowell.

“Standing with reluctant feetWhere the brook and river meet,Womanhood and childhood fleet!

“Standing with reluctant feet

Where the brook and river meet,

Womanhood and childhood fleet!

Like the swell of some sweet tuneMorning rises into noon,May glides onward into June.”

Like the swell of some sweet tune

Morning rises into noon,

May glides onward into June.”

—Longfellow.

“Earth’s noblest thing, a woman perfected.”

—James Russell Lowell.

PUBLISHED BYTHE ARTHUR H. CRIST CO.Cooperstown, N. Y.1911

Copyrighted byCRIST, SCOTT & PARSHALL1907

Pub mark

5PRELUDE.

Mr. Wayne, glancing out of the window, saw some one passing down the front steps. Suddenly a look of recognition came into his face, and he turned to his wife with the exclamation, “I declare, Mary, our daughter Helen is almost a woman, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Wayne, coming to his side and watching the slender figure going down the street. Her face bore a look of motherly pride, but she sighed, as she said,

“Yes, Time and Death are equally inexorable; they both take our babies from us.”

“But not after the same fashion,” replied Mr. Wayne. “Death takes them from our sight, where we cannot witness their growth and development, cannot know into what beauty they have blossomed.”

“Still,” said Mrs. Wayne, “we do not recognize the changes Time makes until they are accomplished. So gradually does the blossom unfold that there is no day to which we can point as the day on which the bud became the full blown flower. On what day did Helen cease to be a baby6and become a child? On what day will she cease to be a child and become a woman?”

“We will know when the actual physical change takes place, but even after that I trust there will remain to us something of our little girl. I do not like to think of her approaching the sentimental age. How old is she?”

“Thirteen.”

“Well, we need have no present fear of a sudden development of sentimentality.”

“Fortunately, no,” replied Mrs. Wayne, “though many a mother of girls no older than Helen is troubled with the question of beaux. Helen, however, has had the good fortune to have for friends boys who seemed to enjoy her comradeship, and I have been very careful not to suggest that their relation could possibly border on the sentimental. So far, she has been perfectly obedient and ever ready to adopt my ideas on all subjects. We have been such close friends that I believe I am acquainted with her inmost thoughts, and if she had felt any romantic emotions I believe she would have confessed them to me.”

“Happy mother!” said Mr. Wayne approvingly, “I wish all girls found in their mothers their closest friends and confidants. By the way, you have always talked freely to her about life’s mysteries; have you explained her approaching womanhood to her?”

“Not yet,” was the reply. “Perhaps I have been a little unwilling to believe that she is really7nearing that crisis. I cannot bear to lose my little girl,” and Mrs. Wayne looked into her husband’s face, smiling through her tears.

“Yes, I can understand that,” he said, “and yet we believe that only through the normal development of her physical nature can she be the ‘woman perfected.’ I beg of you not to postpone your instruction too long. I am more and more convinced that right knowledge not only safeguards purity, but really produces true modesty. To give a young person a reverent knowledge of self is to insure that delicacy of thought which preserves the bloom of modesty. If the girls who are engaged in street flirtations could only be taught the lesson of true womanhood, I am sure they would become quiet and lady-like in conduct. I would rather lose my little girl altogether than have her fall into this error. You have no hesitancy about speaking to her?”

“Not in the least. But I have thought that perhaps she would indicate by some question that her mind was becoming ready for the disclosure. It always seems to me that to force information before the mind is ready to receive it, is to jeopardize its reception.”

“Don’t wait, Mary. You risk too much by allowing some one else the opportunity to give her the knowledge with the taint of evil suggestion.”

“You are right,—and I could not bear that anyone else should explain to her all these mysteries. I have always been her teacher and I will not relinquish8that privilege. I will seize the very first that will allow us uninterrupted time.

“But do you not think that you as a father should have some part in this blessed work of guiding our daughter? I believe that it will be most helpful to her to get the man’s view on the problems of her life. You know, one never gets a true perspective of material objects with only one eye; and I believe this is equally true of life. I can give her the woman’s view, but she needs to know also how men look upon life. She will be better able to judge of the right or wrong of conduct if she knows that my view is supported by your own.”

“You are right, as usual,” replied Mr. Wayne smiling, “and you may rest assured that I will always be glad to supplement your counsel by my own.”

9Almost a Woman

CHAPTER I.

“Mother.” The clear girlish voice rang through the house with persistent intensity but awakened no responsive call. Mr. Wayne, coming up the steps, heard the repeated summons for “Mother” and sent out his answering cry, “Father’s here.” Quick, light steps answered his call and an urgent young voice demanded, “Where’s mother?”

“Mother has been called away for tonight, so you’ll have to put up with father.”

“O, dear!” sighed the girl despondently.

“Is father such a poor substitute, then?” inquired Mr. Wayne in an aggrieved tone.

“O, no,” responded Helen, quickly. “You’re usually as good as mother; but there were some special things I wanted to ask her about this evening. I suppose I can wait,” she added, dolorously.

“Try me and see if I won’t answer tolerably well. What are these weighty problems?” drawing his daughter to his knee as he spoke.

“That’s it,” pouted Helen. “You always make fun,—mother doesn’t.”

“Pardon me, daughter, I had no intention of making fun. I only wanted you to feel at home with me. It was a clumsy attempt, I’ll admit, but really and truly I would like to be in your confidence—to feel that you trust me, too. I can’t fill mother’s place, I know, but I can do what mother can’t, I can give you the man’s view of things, and that is sometimes of great value for a girl to know.”

“Yes,” said Helen, snuggling down in her father’s lap, for they were great friends and she felt his sympathy. “I often wish we could know how things look to other people. I know boys don’t look at matters as girls do, but we can’t always tell just what they do think.”

“That is true,” replied Mr. Wayne, gravely. “I often think that if girls knew just what boys say among themselves it would make them more careful of their conduct.

“For instance, not long ago I was on a steamer where there was dancing. I went into the smoking room, and there I heard the comments of the young men. I am sure the girls had no idea how their dress, figures, freedom and flirtatiousness were criticised and laughed at by these young men, who seemed to them, doubtless, so very nice and polite. Of course, these girls were mostly strangers to the young men and were getting acquainted11without introductions, probably thinking it fine fun.”

“Yes, father. I’ve heard some of the real nice girls talk about getting acquainted in that way, and they seem to think it all right. Someway, it never seemed quite nice to me.”

“I hope not, my daughter. I should be sorry to have you form acquaintances in that way. You never can tell what a man’s character is by his clothes or manners. Indeed, you may think you know a man pretty well, and yet be mistaken. I suppose girls who are familiar with young men and allow them liberties imagine that they are trustworthy. I sat in front of two young men on a train not long ago. They appeared well and really were nice, as boys go, but they had the usual boy’s idea as to honor. They were talking freely of the girls they knew, discussing their merits and charms, saying that this one was soft and ‘huggable,’ that another was sweet to kiss—”

“O, father!” exclaimed Helen, in a fury of surprise and anger. “They didn’t talk that way so that you could hear! And call the girls by name, too?”

“Yes, they did, dear. Then after they had discussed several, who all seemed to allow great freedom, they mentioned another name, and their whole manner changed. ‘Ah,’ said one, ‘there’s no nonsense about her. It’s ‘hands off’ there every time and’—he went on, with great emphasis, ‘that’s the kind of a girl I mean to marry. A12man doesn’t want to feel that his wife’s been slobbered over by all the young men of her acquaintance.’”

Helen hid her face on her father’s shoulder. “How perfectly dreadful!” she said. “They were not gentlemen.”

“I’ll admit that,—and yet the conduct of the girls in permitting such freedom was really an excuse for their speaking so discourteously of them. The girls had not maintained their own self-respect, and therefore had not secured the respect of the young men. The girl who respected herself compelled respect from them, and that is the idea I wish to impress on your mind. Never expect any one to respect you more than you respect yourself, nor to shield your honor if you have placed yourself in their power.”

“But, father,” said Helen hesitatingly, “most of the girls and boys think it no harm to kiss each other good night, and the girls say the boys would be offended if a girl refused.”

“They are mistaken. Of course, the boys like to have the girls think so; but they don’t talk that way among themselves, you may be sure.”

“But, you see, father,” urged Helen, hesitatingly, “they say they are engaged, and that makes it all right.”

“How long do they stay engaged?” asked Mr. Wayne. “Do they really consider it a true engagement, to end ultimately in marriage, or is it merely an excuse for freedom of association?”

“O, they’re all the time breaking their engagements. I don’t believe they expect them to last very long. Now, there’s Dora Ills. She’s only sixteen and she says she’s been engaged four times, and when she breaks the engagement she doesn’t give back the ring. She’s making a collection of engagement rings, she says.”

“It is very evident that she cannot have the highest respect for herself. I knew of a girl whose sister had been engaged several times and who said to her, ‘Why, Lida, you’ve never been engaged yet, have you?’ And Lida replied, ‘No, and I have made up my mind that I’ll not be one of your pawed-over girls.’

“Her expression was not an elegant one, but it showed that she respected herself, and of course, she will be more truly respected by the young men if she does not permit them to approach too closely. A girl is very much mistaken if she fancies that a young man thinks more of her if she lets him be familiar. On the other hand, it is always true that he thinks more of her if she makes him feel that she is not to be carelessly approached. As one boy said to me, ‘Girls ought to know that boys always want most that which is hardest to get.’”

“But, father, if it’s so difficult for boys and girls to be together and act as they should, wouldn’t it be best to keep them entirely apart until they are old enough to marry?”

“That is what they think in the old world, and14girls are kept shut up in schools and convents until they are grown; then their parents select a husband for them, and after they are married they are allowed to go into society. I am afraid our girls wouldn’t like that,—they’d want to select their own husbands.”

“They could do that after they got out of school.”

“My observation is that the girl who has been shut up away from young men, is the very one who doesn’t know how to act when she comes out of school. She has very romantic ideas, and is quite apt to be misled by a glittering exterior. She is less able to judge wisely or to guide her own conduct judiciously than the girl who, having been educated with boys, has less romantic ideas concerning them. No, I believe in co-education and in the common social life for both sexes; but with it I should ask that all young people should be taught to respect themselves and each other, and to understand their responsibility to future generations.”

“And what is that responsibility? What have we young people to do with future generations?”

“Just exactly what we older people once had. We didn’t think of it in our youth, but we can see now that even then we were creating our own characters and at the same time the characters of our future children. Now, I can see in you many of my own youthful characteristics. I can understand why you find it hard to do things that I’d15like you to do, and easy to do some I’d rather you wouldn’t do. And if, in the years to come, you have a daughter, she will be apt to be largely what you are now. All the efforts you make now to overcome your own faults are in reality helping to overcome those faults for her also. Suppose the young people knew and thought of these things; don’t you think they would judge more wisely of what they ought to do?”

“Why, yes, I know what I’d want my daughter to do, it seems to me, even better than I could tell what I ought to do myself.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good way to decide your own conduct—to do only those things which you’d be perfectly willing your daughter should do?”

“But, father, tell me why it’s so much more important for girls to be particular about what they do than for boys.”

“It’s not more important.”

“Well, people seem to think it is. The other day Johnnie Webster was going to a show and his little sister Carrie wanted to go, too, and he told her it was no place for girls, and she said, ‘Then it is no place for boys’; and he said, ‘But boys don’t have to be as good as girls.’ And his father and mother both heard it and never said a word. They only laughed.”

“It is unfortunately quite a common idea that boys and men do not have to be as good as girls and women; but it is not God’s idea. He doesn’t have two standards of morals, and I think the16time is coming when men will be glad to live up to the highest level of purity.”

“Don’t you think it seems worse for girls to swear or drink or gamble than for boys?”

“It doesseemworse, because we have had such high ideals for women; but to God it must seem no worse, because he judges of us assouls, not as men and women, and He has laid down only one rule of conduct for all souls.”

“I’d like to know how the idea ever grew that it was not so bad for men to do wrong as for women.”

“Perhaps we cannot now see all the reasons for this state of things, but we can see at least one reason. Many, many years ago men bought their wives, or took them by force from others, so they felt that theyownedtheir wives. Of course, each man liked to feel that his wife was above reproach, that she really did belong to him; therefore, he held any lack of fidelity as a great sin against himself. But he did not think that he belonged to her. She had neither bought nor captured him, so she had no power over him, except such as she could gain by her fascinations.

“Naturally, he didn’t care to be bound by the same rigid ideas to which he held her. He felt himself free to do what fancy dictated. The general level of morals was low, so he followed the pleasures of sense, and the wife could only submit, or try to be more fascinating to him than any one else. But if he was great and influential17or handsome, and was not bound by any moral restraints, there would be other women desirous of gaining his attentions and the material comforts he might be able to give, and he would quite willingly think himself free to follow his fancy without censure. In this way has grown up the double moral standard, the pure woman holding herself to the strictest morality, and men imagining themselves not so sternly held to the narrow path of absolute purity.

“Women are not now slaves, bought as wives and valued for their personal charms alone. They have intellectual power and moral force and social influence, and they can, if they will, create the single moral standard,—that is, the one high ideal for both men and women.”

“O, father, do you think girls have as much power as that? It always seems to me as if girls might be of value when they are grown up, but that while we are girls we can’t do much to make the world better.”

“That is the mistake girls generally make, when in fact the most important time of life is youth. It is while you are girls that you are forming your own character, and at the same time you are helping to form the character of the generations to come. You are of far more value to the nation now, while you are young and can make of yourselves almost anything you please, than you will be when you are old and your habits are fixed. If girls all lived nobly and exacted noble conduct18of all their associates, boys as well as girls, it would not take long to settle all questions of reform. Young men will be what young women ask them to be, and that, you see, makes girls of great importance. Do you remember what we were reading in Sesame and Lilies the other day about woman’s queenly power? Get the book and let us read it again.”

Helen brought the book, and, finding the place, read:

“Woman’s power is for rule, not for battle, and her intellect is not for invention or creation, but for sweet ordering, arrangement and decision. Her great function is Praise.

“There is not a war in the world, no, nor an injustice, but you women are answerable for it, not in that you have provoked, but in that you have not hindered. Men, by their nature, are prone to fight. They will fight for any cause or none. It is for you to choose their cause for them, and to forbid when there is no cause. There is no suffering, no injustice, no misery in the earth, but the guilt of it lies with you.

“Queens you must always be: queens to your lovers: queens to your husbands and sons: queens of higher mystery to the world beyond, which bows itself and will forever bow before the myrtle crown and the stainless sceptre of womanhood.”

Helen leaned her head on her father’s shoulder19in silence. Then she said, softly: “It makes me almost afraid to become a woman.”

Mr. Wayne kissed his daughter tenderly, saying: “It is worthy your highest ambition to be a noble woman. I would be glad to see you such an one as is pictured in Lowell’s poem of Irene. Would you like to read it to me?”

Helen took the book from her father’s hand and read.

Hers is a spirit deep, and crystal-clear;Calmly beneath her earnest face it lies,Free without boldness, meek without a fear,Quicker to look than speak its sympathies;Far down into her large and patient eyesI gaze, deep-drinking of the infinite,As, in the mid-watch of a clear, still night,I look into the fathomless blue skies.So circled lives she with Love’s holy light,That from the shade of self she walketh free:The garden of her soul still keepeth sheAn Eden where the snake did never enter;She hath a natural, wise sincerity,A simple truthfulness, and these have lent herA dignity as moveless as the center:So that no influence of earth can stirHer steadfast courage, nor can take awayThe holy peacefulness, which, night and day,Unto her queenly soul doth minister.20Most gentle is she; her large charity(An all unwitting, childlike gift to her)Not freer is to give than meek to bear;And, though herself not unacquaint with care,Hath in her heart wide room for all that be—Her heart that hath no secrets of its own,But open as an eglantine full blown.Cloudless forever is her brow serene,Speaking calm hope and trust within her, whenceWelleth a noiseless spring of patience,That keepeth all her life so fresh, so greenAnd full of holiness, that every look,The greatness of her woman’s soul revealing,Unto me bringeth blessing, and a feelingAs when I read in God’s own holy book.A graciousness in giving that doth makeThe small gift greatest, and a sense most meekOf worthiness, that doth not fear to takeFrom others, but which always fears to speakIts thanks in utterance, for the giver’s sake;The deep religion of a thankful heart,Which rests instinctively in heaven’s clear lawWith a full peace, that never can departFrom its own steadfastness;—a holy aweFor holy things,—not those which men call holy,But such as are revealed to the eyesOf a true woman’s soul bent down and lowlyBefore the face of daily mysteries:A love that blossoms soon, but ripens slowlyTo the full goldenness of fruitful prime,21Enduring with a firmness that defiesAll shallow tricks of circumstance and time,By a sure insight knowing where to cling,And where it clingeth never withering:These are Irene’s dowry, which no fateCan shake from their serene, deep-builded state.In-seeing sympathy is hers, which chastenethNo less than loveth, scorning to be boundWith fear of blame, and yet which ever hastenethTo pour the balm of kind looks on the wound,If they be wounds which such sweet teaching makes,Giving itself a pang for others’ sakes:No want of faith, that chills with sidelong eye,Hath she; nojealousy, no Levite prideThat passeth by upon the other side:For in her soul there never dwelt a lie.Right from the hand of God her spirit cameUnstained, and she hath ne’er forgotten whenceIt came, nor wandered far from thence,But labored to keep her still the same,Near to her place of birth, that she may notSoil her white raiment with an earthly spot.Yet sets she not her soul so steadilyAbove, that she forgets her ties to earth,But her whole thought would almost seem to beHow to make glad one lowly human hearth;And to make earth next heaven; and her heart22Herein doth show its most exceeding worth,That, bearing in our frailty her just part,She hath not shrunk from evils of this life,But hath gone calmly forth into the strife,And all its sin and sorrows hath withstoodWith lofty strength of patient womanhood:For this I love her great soul more than all,That, being bound, like us, with earthy thrall,For with a gentle courage she doth striveIn thought and word and feeling so to live.She walks so bright and heaven-like therein,—Too wise, too meek, too womanly, to sin.Like a lone star through riven storm-clouds seenBy sailors, tempest-tost upon the sea,Telling of rest and peaceful havens nigh,Unto my soul her star-like soul hath been,Her sight as full of hope and calm to me;For she unto herself hath builded highA home serene, wherein to lay her head,Earth’s noblest thing, a Woman perfected.

Hers is a spirit deep, and crystal-clear;

Calmly beneath her earnest face it lies,

Free without boldness, meek without a fear,

Quicker to look than speak its sympathies;

Far down into her large and patient eyes

I gaze, deep-drinking of the infinite,

As, in the mid-watch of a clear, still night,

I look into the fathomless blue skies.

So circled lives she with Love’s holy light,That from the shade of self she walketh free:The garden of her soul still keepeth sheAn Eden where the snake did never enter;She hath a natural, wise sincerity,A simple truthfulness, and these have lent herA dignity as moveless as the center:So that no influence of earth can stirHer steadfast courage, nor can take awayThe holy peacefulness, which, night and day,Unto her queenly soul doth minister.

So circled lives she with Love’s holy light,

That from the shade of self she walketh free:

The garden of her soul still keepeth she

An Eden where the snake did never enter;

She hath a natural, wise sincerity,

A simple truthfulness, and these have lent her

A dignity as moveless as the center:

So that no influence of earth can stir

Her steadfast courage, nor can take away

The holy peacefulness, which, night and day,

Unto her queenly soul doth minister.

20Most gentle is she; her large charity(An all unwitting, childlike gift to her)Not freer is to give than meek to bear;And, though herself not unacquaint with care,Hath in her heart wide room for all that be—Her heart that hath no secrets of its own,But open as an eglantine full blown.Cloudless forever is her brow serene,Speaking calm hope and trust within her, whenceWelleth a noiseless spring of patience,That keepeth all her life so fresh, so greenAnd full of holiness, that every look,The greatness of her woman’s soul revealing,Unto me bringeth blessing, and a feelingAs when I read in God’s own holy book.

Most gentle is she; her large charity

(An all unwitting, childlike gift to her)

Not freer is to give than meek to bear;

And, though herself not unacquaint with care,

Hath in her heart wide room for all that be—

Her heart that hath no secrets of its own,

But open as an eglantine full blown.

Cloudless forever is her brow serene,

Speaking calm hope and trust within her, whence

Welleth a noiseless spring of patience,

That keepeth all her life so fresh, so green

And full of holiness, that every look,

The greatness of her woman’s soul revealing,

Unto me bringeth blessing, and a feeling

As when I read in God’s own holy book.

A graciousness in giving that doth makeThe small gift greatest, and a sense most meekOf worthiness, that doth not fear to takeFrom others, but which always fears to speakIts thanks in utterance, for the giver’s sake;The deep religion of a thankful heart,Which rests instinctively in heaven’s clear lawWith a full peace, that never can departFrom its own steadfastness;—a holy aweFor holy things,—not those which men call holy,But such as are revealed to the eyesOf a true woman’s soul bent down and lowlyBefore the face of daily mysteries:A love that blossoms soon, but ripens slowlyTo the full goldenness of fruitful prime,21Enduring with a firmness that defiesAll shallow tricks of circumstance and time,By a sure insight knowing where to cling,And where it clingeth never withering:These are Irene’s dowry, which no fateCan shake from their serene, deep-builded state.

A graciousness in giving that doth make

The small gift greatest, and a sense most meek

Of worthiness, that doth not fear to take

From others, but which always fears to speak

Its thanks in utterance, for the giver’s sake;

The deep religion of a thankful heart,

Which rests instinctively in heaven’s clear law

With a full peace, that never can depart

From its own steadfastness;—a holy awe

For holy things,—not those which men call holy,

But such as are revealed to the eyes

Of a true woman’s soul bent down and lowly

Before the face of daily mysteries:

A love that blossoms soon, but ripens slowly

To the full goldenness of fruitful prime,

Enduring with a firmness that defies

All shallow tricks of circumstance and time,

By a sure insight knowing where to cling,

And where it clingeth never withering:

These are Irene’s dowry, which no fate

Can shake from their serene, deep-builded state.

In-seeing sympathy is hers, which chastenethNo less than loveth, scorning to be boundWith fear of blame, and yet which ever hastenethTo pour the balm of kind looks on the wound,If they be wounds which such sweet teaching makes,Giving itself a pang for others’ sakes:No want of faith, that chills with sidelong eye,Hath she; nojealousy, no Levite prideThat passeth by upon the other side:For in her soul there never dwelt a lie.Right from the hand of God her spirit cameUnstained, and she hath ne’er forgotten whenceIt came, nor wandered far from thence,But labored to keep her still the same,Near to her place of birth, that she may notSoil her white raiment with an earthly spot.

In-seeing sympathy is hers, which chasteneth

No less than loveth, scorning to be bound

With fear of blame, and yet which ever hasteneth

To pour the balm of kind looks on the wound,

If they be wounds which such sweet teaching makes,

Giving itself a pang for others’ sakes:

No want of faith, that chills with sidelong eye,

Hath she; nojealousy, no Levite pride

That passeth by upon the other side:

For in her soul there never dwelt a lie.

Right from the hand of God her spirit came

Unstained, and she hath ne’er forgotten whence

It came, nor wandered far from thence,

But labored to keep her still the same,

Near to her place of birth, that she may not

Soil her white raiment with an earthly spot.

Yet sets she not her soul so steadilyAbove, that she forgets her ties to earth,But her whole thought would almost seem to beHow to make glad one lowly human hearth;And to make earth next heaven; and her heart22Herein doth show its most exceeding worth,That, bearing in our frailty her just part,She hath not shrunk from evils of this life,But hath gone calmly forth into the strife,And all its sin and sorrows hath withstoodWith lofty strength of patient womanhood:For this I love her great soul more than all,That, being bound, like us, with earthy thrall,For with a gentle courage she doth striveIn thought and word and feeling so to live.She walks so bright and heaven-like therein,—

Yet sets she not her soul so steadily

Above, that she forgets her ties to earth,

But her whole thought would almost seem to be

How to make glad one lowly human hearth;

And to make earth next heaven; and her heart

Herein doth show its most exceeding worth,

That, bearing in our frailty her just part,

She hath not shrunk from evils of this life,

But hath gone calmly forth into the strife,

And all its sin and sorrows hath withstood

With lofty strength of patient womanhood:

For this I love her great soul more than all,

That, being bound, like us, with earthy thrall,

For with a gentle courage she doth strive

In thought and word and feeling so to live.

She walks so bright and heaven-like therein,—

Too wise, too meek, too womanly, to sin.Like a lone star through riven storm-clouds seenBy sailors, tempest-tost upon the sea,Telling of rest and peaceful havens nigh,Unto my soul her star-like soul hath been,Her sight as full of hope and calm to me;For she unto herself hath builded highA home serene, wherein to lay her head,Earth’s noblest thing, a Woman perfected.

Too wise, too meek, too womanly, to sin.

Like a lone star through riven storm-clouds seen

By sailors, tempest-tost upon the sea,

Telling of rest and peaceful havens nigh,

Unto my soul her star-like soul hath been,

Her sight as full of hope and calm to me;

For she unto herself hath builded high

A home serene, wherein to lay her head,

Earth’s noblest thing, a Woman perfected.

“That is a beautiful picture of what a girl may be, and I’d be glad to see you making it your model.”

“Yes,” said Helen, slowly. Then, with more enthusiasm, “You know, father, I’ve always wished I were a boy. It seems so much grander to be a man than a woman. A man’s life is so much freer, and he can do so much greater things, you know. Of course, I shall try to be a good woman,23but I wish women could do big things, the way men can.”

“What wondrous things can men do that women can’t do?” asked Mr. Wayne with a smile.

“Oh,” replied Helen, clasping her hands with enthusiasm, “just see what men do. They build immense houses, and great bridges—Oh, they make the world, and women just sit in the house and look on. I’d like todosomething.”

Mr. Wayne smoothed back the hair from the forehead of his enthusiastic daughter with a tender smile, as he replied, “It does seem on the surface as if men did greater things than women, but it is only seeming, my dear. It is just as grand a thing to be a woman as to be a man. True, woman’s work does not show on the surface so plainly, but she works with more enduring material than does man in creating the world of things. We can see the great works of man’s hands and they impress us with a sense of his power; but it ismindthat does the real work, and women haveminds, orareminds, you know.”

“Yes, I know, but they must devote their minds to cooking and dishwashing.”

“I have seen women doing other things. In the old world I saw women digging ditches, carrying brick and mortar to the top of high buildings, ploughing in the fields; in fact, working just like men. The great buildings of the World’s Exposition erected in Vienna in 1873, were largely the work of women’s hands. You are not anxious24to exchange dishwashing for such work, are you?”

“O, no, indeed; but it is man who plans such work and superintends its doing. A woman could not have planned Brooklyn bridge, for example.”

“It is quite true that a woman did not plan it, but did you know that it was completed under a woman’s supervision?”

“No, was it? How did that happen? Tell me all about it.”

“It happened this way. Mr. Roebling, who was superintending its construction, was taken ill, and his wife took his place and personally gave oversight to every part of the work until it was done. You see, her being a woman did not prevent her doing the work. But if she had been only a careless or an ignorant woman she could not have done it. It wasmind, you see, and cultured mind at that, which was the master power. If she had not been working with him in making the plans, she could not have worked for him in carrying them out. Instead of lamenting over your sex, you would better rejoice in the fact that you are aspirit, and realize that your power in all spheres of activity will be measured by the cultivation of your mental and spiritual powers.”

“But, father, even if I do cultivate my mind, I shall probably never have an opportunity to do such a grand thing as help to build a Brooklyn bridge.”

“Probably not, but you can do a greater thing.25You can fit yourself to work on finer material than insensate stones. You can mould plastic minds. It is a far greater thing to wield spiritual forces than to manipulate inorganic matter.”

“But, all men do not merely makethings. There are great statesmen, great soldiers, great writers.”

“True, but you would not want to be a soldier, I am sure. To kill is not a glorious profession. And to be a great statesman or writer is not merely a question of sex; it is a question of mind.”

“Do you think women have as much ability as men? Aren’t men really smarter than women?”

Mr. Wayne smiled at the girl’s eagerness. “I do not compare men and women to decide their relative ability,” he answered. “I believe their minds differ, but that does not imply that one is superior and the other inferior. Each is superior in its own place.”

“But men’s minds are so much stronger, father. Women never can be on the same level as men.”

“Bring me two needles of different sizes from your work basket. Now, tell me, which is superior to the other.”

“That depends on what you want to do with them,” replied Helen. “If you were going to sew on shoe buttons, you’d use this big one. If you wanted to hem a cambric handkerchief, you’d take this fine one.”

“Just so. Each is superior in its special place, and both are necessary. This is just as it seems26to me in regard to the ability of men and women. They are both minds; one strong, robust, enduring rough usage; the other fine, delicate, going where the first cannot go, and therefore supplementing it, and increasing the range of work that can be accomplished. The fine needle might complain that it could not do hard work, but do you think the complaint would be justifiable?”

“Why, no, I don’t; but tell me what great things a woman can do—things that are worth while, I mean; something besides keep house and take care of children. It seems to me that merely to be a cook and nurse girl is not a very high calling.”

“She might be a chemist,” suggested Mr. Wayne.

“Oh, yes, a few women might; but I mean something that I could be, or other girls like me who have no special talent.”

“There is a great need of scientific knowledge among women. Every housekeeper needs to know something of chemistry. The woman who knows the chemical action of acids and alkalies on each other will never use soda with sweet milk, nor make the mistake of using an excess of soda with sour milk. And every day, in a myriad of ways, her knowledge of chemistry will be called into use.”

“Then every woman should be a psychologist, most especially if she is to have the care of children.”

“O, father, you use such big words. Tell me just what you mean.”

“I mean that the office of nurse or mother demands the highest study of mental evolution. More big words, but I’ll try to make you understand.

“It seems to you that any one can take care of a baby. But what is a baby? Not just a helpless little animal, to be fed and clothed and kept warm. A baby is a spirit in the process of development. From the moment of birth it is being educated by everything around it; the very tones of voice used in speaking to it are educating it. It is a great thing to be President of the United States, but that president was once a baby. His life depended on the way he was fed and cared for; his character was largely created by the circumstances of his life; and his mental powers—which he inherited from both parents—were in his babyhood and early childhood largely under the training of some woman. That woman, whether mother or nurse, had the first chance to develop him, to make him worthy or unworthy. John Quincy Adams said, ‘All I am I owe to my mother,’ and that is the testimony of many of earth’s greatest men. Garfield’s first kiss after his inauguration was very justly given to his mother.

“God has entrusted mothers with life’s grandest work, the moulding of humanity in its plastic stage. You have done clay modelling in school, and you know that when the clay is fresh and28moist you can make of it almost anything you will, but when it has hardened it is past remodelling. It is just the same with humanity. In babyhood the mind is plastic; when one has grown to maturity, it is hard and unyielding. Man makesthings; woman makesmen. Which is the greater work?”

Helen hesitated. “It seems very noble as you talk of it, to train a child; but you know people don’t feel that way. Mothers cuddle their babies, to be sure, but men think caring for babies is beneath them. They sneer at it as woman’s work.”

“Not all men, dear. Some of the great men of the world have spent years in the study of infancy, realizing that to know how the baby develops will enable them to understand better how to train it, and rightly to train babies is in reality to make the nation.”

Helen, leaning her head back on her father’s shoulder, was silent for a while, then she kissed him softly, saying, “Thank you, father dear. It has been a beautiful talk together. I am sure it will help me to be a better woman.”

29CHAPTER II.

“Well, daughter,” said Mr. Wayne, as Helen and he were sitting by the fire one Sabbath afternoon while Mrs. Wayne had gone to her room to rest.

“Why,—” said Helen hesitatingly, “there is something I have been thinking about, but I’m afraid you’ll think it silly to ask you about it. You’ll think I ought to be able to decide it for myself.”

“Nothing that is of enough importance to be a problem to my daughter is silly to me. State your difficulty, and we’ll see if we cannot clear it away.”

“Well, father, I’d like to know what you think about boys and girls writing to each other. Of course, I don’t mean the foolish notes they send back and forth in school. I know that is silly, but I mean correspond. You see, Paul Winslow and Robert Bates are going to move away and they’re asking the girls to correspond with them, and the girls all say it will be great fun; but I don’t know. You know, mother has taught me that things that seem funny at one time don’t seem so at another, and I’ve been wondering if this is one of those things. When Robert asked me if I’d write to him I said I’d ask mother, and he seemed to get mad. He said if it was such a30dangerous thing to correspond with him that I had to ask my mother, he guessed I’d better not write to him. I said I asked my mother about everything. And he said ‘I suppose you show her your letters,’ and I said ‘Of course,’ and then he said he’d excuse me from writing to him. The girls all said I was very foolish; that it was perfectly right to correspond with boys you knew, and that our mothers wouldn’t want to be bothered to read all the letters we received. But I know mother doesn’t think it a bother, and I wouldn’t enjoy my letters if I didn’t share them with her.”

“You are certainly much safer to keep in confidence with your mother,” said Mr. Wayne, “and I should say that a young man who didn’t want you to show his letters to your mother is one you wouldn’t want to correspond with. I should be afraid that he’d be one who would show your letters to his boy friends and perhaps make fun of them.”

“O, father! Do you think that? It seems to me that wouldn’t be honorable.”

“Boys do not always have the highest ideals of honor, my dear. I remember once, when I was young, I was camping with a lot of young fellows. I think all of them were corresponding with girls, and these letters were common property. They were read aloud as we gathered around the camp fire in the evening; their bad spelling was laughed at and their silly sentimentalities31talked of in ways that I am sure would have made the girls’ cheeks burn with shame. They thought, of course, that the boy they wrote to would keep their letters as sweet secrets. I learned a good deal that summer about girls whom I had never seen. Some of them I came to know afterwards, and I often wondered what they would say if I should quote from their letters some foolish sentimentality which they imagined no one knew about except the one to whom it was written.”

“Then, father, you’d say we ought never to correspond with boys?”

“No, I didn’t quite say that. I can see that a friendly correspondence might be helpful. It seems to me that girls and boys can be a great help and inspiration to each other. I once had a girl correspondent who wrote most charming letters, simple recitals of her daily life with some of her little moralizings thrown in. Perhaps I would smile at them now, but they surely helped me to have higher ideals and made me have a great reverence for womanhood. There was one thing about her letters that I thought strange then, but I now think it very wise. She always signed every letter with her full name, never with her home pet name. I have often thought of it, and I believe it is a good plan. Certainly, if you knew that you would sign your full name to every letter, you would not be as apt to write foolishly as if your identity would be hidden under some32nickname. And you never know what will become of your letters. A few days ago I read in the newspaper some foolish letters written by a girl to a man. She never imagined that any one else would read them. Yet here they were, in print, and the whole country was commenting on them. They were all signed by some soubriquet such as ‘Your darlingest Babe,’ or ‘Little Jimmy,’ and under the shield of such a signature she no doubt felt safe. But a dark tragedy tore away the flimsy protection and every one saw all her foolishness and sin.”

Helen shuddered. “I believe I’ll make it a rule,” she said, soberly, “to write only such things in my letters that I’d be willing to have printed over my own name.”

“That’s a good resolution, and I hope you’ll keep it. You can feel quite certain that if you don’t want to sign your own name to your letter you’d better not write it.

“There are a number of suggestions I would like to make to you along the line of your association with young men,” said Mr. Wayne, after a pause. “You have had no experience as yet, but in a few years you will be a woman and maybe then you’ll have no father or mother to give you counsel. As you know, I don’t want to shut you away from the society of young men, but I want you to know how to make it of the greatest advantage to you and to them.

“Do you know, dear, that women and girls33always make the moral standards which maintain in the society of which they form a part?”

Helen shook her head doubtfully. “I don’t see how that can be,” she said, “for everybody says that women are better than men; and I am sure boys do lots of things that we girls would never think of doing.”

“Very true,” replied Mr. Wayne, “but that is because the men and boys set higher standards for the women and girls than they in turn set for the men and boys. No boy would be seen in the street with a girl who was smoking a cigar; yet girls, good girls too, let boys smoke in their company. No matter how immoral a man may be, he always demands that the women who belong to him, his wife, mother, sister or sweetheart, shall be pure and above reproach. He will even claim that a wife’s misconduct sullies his honor; but she never claims that his immorality is her responsibility. She will even marry a man whom she knows to be dissipated, foolishly trusting that her love will reform him. A broken heart and degenerate children too often prove how seriously she has failed. Yes, dear, I am right in saying that women are to blame that men do not have higher ideals and live up to them. Ruskin says, ‘The soul’s armor is never well set to a heart unless a woman’s hand has braced it; and it is only when she braces it loosely that the honor of manhood fails.’”

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