Ten American Girls From History

at Betty Van Lew's door, was the Libby, with its grim, gray walls; only a stone's throw farther away were Castle Lightning on the north side of Cary Street, and

with scarred and suffering human beings,-with sick men, wounde

ession was such a dazed and meaningless one that the prison guards and other soldiers paid little heed to the coming and going of "Crazy Bet," as she was called. "Mis' Van Lew-poor creature, she's lost her balance since the war broke out. She'll do no harm to the p

the platter hot. The dish roused the guard's suspicions, and to a near-by soldier he muttered something about it. Apparently unheeding him, "Crazy Bet" passed on beyond the grim, gray wall

to examine th

at day, as it had before-only water scalding hot, and the guard dropped it with a howl of pain, and turned a

g the number and placing of Confederate troops, which information she sent on at once to Federal headquarters. Day by day she worked, daring loss of life, and spe

so much gold, to pass on to "Crazy Bet," and so repay her kindness and her lavish generosity, which was as sincere as her underlying motive was genuine. Meals at the Van Lew mansion grew less and less bountiful, even meager,-not one article did either Elizabeth Van Lew or her loyal mother buy for themselves, but spent their ample fortune without stint on the sic

special messenger, as she had ceased using the mails in the early stages of the war. Or a friendly little note would be handed her with its hidden meaning impossible to decipher except by one who knew the code. Important messages were carried back and forth in her baskets of fruit and flowers in a

the outspoken little woman with a mixture of admiration and contempt. At that time her lifelong persecution, by those who had before been her loyal friends, began. Where before she had been met with friendly bows a

ch she was mistress, to win it back again from either General Winder or the Secretary of War. At one time the press and people became so incensed against the

Over th

dly Northern and Abolition proclivities. The creatures thus alluded to were not named.... If such people do not wish to be exposed and d

n: "These ladies were my mother and myself

e bursting of shells. "Crazy Bet," watching the battle with alternate hope and fear, was filled with fierce exultation, and hastily prepared a room in the house on the hill with new matting and fresh curtains for the use of General McClellan. But the Federal

Federal army. Of this chain of stations the Van Lew farm, lying a short distance outside of the city, was one. It was seldom difficult for Betty Van Lew to get passes for her servants to make the trip between the farm and the Richmond house, and this was one of her most valuable methods of transmitting and receiving secret messages. Fresh eggs were brought in from the farm almost every day to the house on Church Hill, and no one was allowed to touch them until the head of the house had counted them, with true war-time economy, and she always took one out, for her own use in egg-nog, so she said. In reality that egg was but a shell which contained a tiny scroll of paper, a message from some U

er end. At once she wrote to a negro girl, Mary Elizabeth Bowser, who had been one of the Van Lews' slaves, but who had been freed and sent North to be educated, inviting her to visit the stately mansion where she had grown up, and the invitation was eagerly

at the Van Lews', she had applied for the position and become a member of Jefferson Davis's household. Anot

ained by them. The fare was meager in comparison to the old lavish entertaining, but the conversation was brilliant and diverting, and so cleverly did Betty lead it that "many a yo

d waist of cotton, and the huge calico sunbonnet, going about her secret business, a little lonely, unnoticed figure, and in a thous

the women gave such daring service as did Elizabeth Van Lew. Known as a dauntless advocate of abolition and of the Union, suspected of a traitor's disloyalty to the South, but with that stain on her reputation as a Southerner unproved from the commencement of the war until its close, her life was in continual danger. She wrote a year later, "I was an enthusiast who never counted it dear if I could have served the Union-not t

he was connected more closely with the highest Federal authorities,-so closely connected, in fact, that

rewards if it should be done successfully. The Spy sat quietly thinking for some time after receiving this letter. If it should fall into Confederate hands it would be the death-warrant of its bearer. Who could be trusted to take it to the offic

The officer had but to raise his voice and her game would be up; she would pay the penalty of her daring with her

the room; then he gave way and implored her to be more prudent. If she would never come there again he would go to her

here was not an hour to lose in finding a messenger. At that time no servant of hers could leave the city, and no Federal agent could enter it. Hoping for an inspiration, she took her huge market-basket on her arm, the basket which was so familiar by

ice to entrap her as had often been attempted? The cipher despatch in her hand was torn into strips, each one rolled into a tiny ball. Should she begin to drop them, one by one? In perplexity she glanced up into the man's face. No! Her woman's instinct sp

e North and the South deepened the need of caution became more necessary than ever, for Confederate spies were everywhere. In her half-destro

Strange faces could sometimes be seen peeping around the columns and pillars of the back portico.... Once I went to Jefferson Davis himself to see if we could not obtain some protection.... His private Secretary told me I had better apply to the Mayor.... Captain George Gibbs had succeeded Todd as keeper of the prisoners; so perilous had our situation become that we to

ancellorsville. In June and July of 1863 Lee began a second invasion of the North, but was defeated at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. In July, 1863, Vicksburg and Port Hudson were captured and the Mississippi River was in Union hands, but in th

ew mansion was made ready to secrete them if they achieved their purpose. The room was at the end of one of the big parlors, and dark blankets were h

the light and life of the outer world. At last the tunnel was ready. With quivering excitement over their great adventure added to their exhaustion, the men who were to make their escape, one after another disappeared in the carefully guarded hole leading from the cellar of the prison into a great sewer, and thence into the prison yard. Of this little company of adventurous men eleven Colonels, seven Majors, thirty-t

a family who lived on the outskirts of the city, who were both Union sympathizers and friends of his sister's. They hid him carefully, and Betty at once came to aid in planning for his escape from the city. Unfortunately it was the night of the escape of the Federal prisoners from the Libby, so a doubly strong guard was set over every ex

very effort toward his exemption. When all efforts proved unavailing, the general took him into his own regiment, and "the Union sympathizer never wore a Confederate uniform, and only once shouldered a Confederate musket, when on a great panic day he stood,

een of mind, standing at her post by day and by night. After all members of her household were safely locked in their rooms for the night, the Spy would creep down, barefooted, to the big library with its ornamented iron fireplace. On either side of this fireplace were two columns, on each of which was a small, carved figure of a lion. Possibly by accident-probab

r, to be sure there were no watching eyes, then he would slip over to the fireplace, lift the lion, draw out the cipher message, place it sometimes in his mouth, sometimes in his shoe, and as soon as

he order of Betty Van Lew, that she might have a safe shelter for Union refugees. All through the war gossip was rife concerning the Van Lews and their movements, and there were many rumors that the old mansion had a secret hiding-place, but this could never b

FOOD TO THE UNION SOLD

ood her aunt before the opening of the wall, shading with cautious hand the candle she carried, while facing her stood a gaunt, hollow-eyed, bearded man in uniform reaching out a greedy hand for the food on the plate. The man saw the child's eyes burning through the darkness back of the older woman, but she put a chubby finger on her lip, and ran away before he had a chance to realize that she was flesh and blood and not an apparition. Panting, she ran swiftly down the long staircase and, with her heart beating fast from fright, flung herself on the bed and buried her head in the pillows, lying there for a long time, so it seemed to her. Then, scarcely daring to breathe, for fear

n for his being in hiding, and that if the secret room should be discovered it might bring unhappiness to her aunt. So in a very few moments the little white-gowned figure flitted silent

t to attack the city on the east side, but were driven back. Again on the 29th of the month, the bells all rang to call men to service. The city battalions responded, while General Wilcox ordered all men who were in the city on furlough, and all who could bear arms, out to protect the city, f

y possible, trying to perfect every detail to such a degree that failure would be impossible. To release all Federal prisoners in Richmond-this was b

re discovered, and when they rode along through the woods near the road at Old Church, in their disguise, a party of Confederates in ambush opened fire on them, captured ninety white men and thirty-five negroes, and killed poor little crippled Dahlgren, a small, pale young officer, who "rode with crutches strapped to his saddle, and with an artifi

n order to all of his men and of

e first, and having seen them fairly well started, we will cross James River into Richmond, destroying the bridges after us, and exhortin

es and runn

e used by the rebels. Shoot horses and cattle, destroy the railroads and the cana

iabolical cruelty, the people of Richmond cried out for revenge, and the hanging of

ide, by which the forces of the raiders, after separating in two parts for the attack, lost each other and were never able to unite. The brave, crippled young commander riding fearlessly on to within five miles of the city into the ambush, his command falling under

me hours at the York River railroad station. Then, at midnight, it was taken away by the city officials and buried, no one knew where. But Betty Van Lew says in he

s son be sent to him. The order was at once given to the chief of police, with the added command to have the body placed in a decent

Mr. William Rowley, who lived a short distance in the country. He watched over the remains all night, and during the hours of darkness more than one Union sympathizer stole out to the shop to pay their last respects to the pathetic young victim of the attempted raid. At dawn the body was placed in a metallic coffin and put on a wag

earch to be made which would sign his death warrant, one of the guards recognized him as an old acquaintance, and began a lively conversation with him.

well-packed load, and remarked that it

halantly he said that he had not expected them to

o that he can go!' Could anything save him now? Rowley wondered. If he had not been a born actor he would h

said, in a low voice, 'Go on!' and Rowley, wit

Two loyal women helped to fill it in, and planted over it one of the peach-trees which had so successfully prevented discovery. So ended the Dahlgren raid-and so the Spy had been foiled in one

ally with General Grant, through his Chief of Secret Service. As the weary months wore away, more than once the Spy was in an agony of suspense, when it seemed as if some one of her plots was ab

agents were prowling about the city, searching every building in which a horse could be secreted. In the dead of night Betty Van Lew led her steed, with feet wrapped in cloths to prevent noise, from the smoke-house

him was given the duty of attacking Lee. General Sherman was at the head of a l

n after him. But he did not succeed; Sherman sent Thomas, the "Rock of Chickamauga," to deal with Hood, and in December he destroyed Hood's army in a terrible battle at Nashville. Meanwhile Sherman started to march from Atlanta to the sea, his army advancing in four columns, covering a stretch of country miles wide. They to

of oak and pine, and after much hard fighting closed in around Richmond, laying siege to Petersburg. Bravely Lee and his gallant men resisted the Union forces until April, 1865, when, foreseeing the tragic end ahead, Lee left Richmond and mar

rts of all Union sympathizers was a passionate exultation that the United States was onc

he churches, united in their fervent prayers for their country and their soldiers. The worshipping congregation of St. Paul's Church was disturbed by the sight of a

four long years had hung over the city like a dreadful nightmare had come at last. The message had come from Ge

uld not be carried away was left to be plundered by those who rushed in to get bacon, clothing, or whatever they could take. The Confederate troops were rapidly moving toward the South.... At one o'clock it became known that under the law of the Confederate Congress all the tobacco and cotton in the city had been ordered burned to keep it out of the hands of the enemy. In vain the Mayor sent a committee to remonstrate against burning the warehouses. No heed was paid to the order, and soon tongues of lurid flame were leaping from building to building, until the conflagration was beyond all control. Men and women were like frenzied demons in their efforts to save p

he vanguard of the Federal army entered th

vernor Street, while a bitter wail rose from the people of Richmon

hours before the command could be fully carried out. Then and only then did the exhausted, panic-stricken, heart-sick people fully realize the hideous disaster which had come to their beloved city; only

e time foreseen the coming climax of the four years' struggle, and weeks earlier she had sent north to General Butler for a huge American flag, eighteen feet long by nine wi

a messenger fleet of foot, cautious of address, bringing breathless tidings to the Spy: "

shells, the sound of the blowing up of gun-boats in the harbor, and of the powder magazines, which was shaking the foundations of the city, as red flames leaped ac

es she went out alone and stood on the white-pillared portico, a fearless little figure,

nt will be in this city within an hour; if this house is harmed your house shall be burned by noon!" At the fearless wo

Van Lew ran up to the secret room under the garret roof, drew out the great flag for which she had sent in anticipation of this day, and when th

t stood openly and fearlessly against all that the Southerners held sacred, should have been despised, and worse than that. Realizing her danger, and knowing the priceless service she had rendered the Union generals in the four long years of the war, Colonel Parke, wi

very building in the land. At the beginning of the war, when Betty took on herself the r?le of Federal Secret Service agent, she was light of heart, alert of body and mind. Now, for four years, she had born a heavy

uld declare the appointment a reward for her services against the Confederacy, and that it would but make her more of an alien in Richmond than ever she had been before. But she was desperately poor, s

y, is our door-bell ever rung by any but a pauper or those desiring my service." She adds: "Sept

s President of the United States, the on

never was so bitterly persecuted; ask the President to protect m

Van Lew, although the child of a Northern mother, was also the daughter of John Van Lew, one of Richmond's foremost citizens. The loyalty of the Southerners to the Confederacy and to one another, from their viewpoint, was praiseworthy, and ther

her open and lasting disgrace, and never can the two viewpoints be welded into one, despite the symbol of Union

all in need, especially to the negroes. She was not able to sell her valuable but unproductive real estate, and was reduced to actual need. "I tell you really and solemnly," she confesses to her diary, "I have suffered for n

the injustice of the act, she clung patiently to her only means of support. Two weeks later, it is said that a Northern newspaper contained an editorial which spoke sneeringly of "A Troublesome Relic," and ended with, "We draw the line at Miss Van Lew." Even though sh

to send the letter, and even worse to her than that was the necessity of revealing her desperate plight. But she need not have felt as she did. As soon as the letter reached its destination there was a hurried indignation meeting of those Boston men who knew what s

rites; "no one will go with us anywhere.... It

ing memories, nursed by an aged negress to whom she had given freedom years before, Eliza

ill hereafter have to my mind a high and honorable significance. For my loyalty to my country, I have two b

reely of youth and strength, of wealth and her good name, of all that human be

erected to the noble woman who worked tirelessly and without fitting reward for

eth L.

8 1

thing that is de

fort, health

ne absorbing

avery might b

ion pr

Bou

l Hill in Bosto

achusetts

oyalty,-a traitor in one sense of the word; but above all was she tireless in working for her highest ideal

O KEPT LIME ROCK BURNI

live on the island, and you must all row ov

eager torrent of words that the girls were as excited as the teller of the tale, and there was a chorus

s led by that of Ida Lewis, on their way to the island in Baker's Bay, where the L

nded girl from her earliest childhood, and a great lover of the sea in all its changing phases. Often instead of playing games on land with her mates she would beguile some old fisherman to take her ou

years, and the girl's home was no longer to be on terra firma, but on the rock-ribbed island where the lighthouse stood, w

l. She would turn her head, toss back her hair, and call out in ringing tones to the flock, "'Ware, shoals!" and obediently they would turn as she turned, follow where she led. Soon her boat ran its sharp bow against the rocky ledge to which they had been steering, and with quick confidence I

Ida, you are lucky-But just think how the wind will howl around the hous

ily, but one which could well answer to the name of "home" to one as fond of the sea as was Ida Lewis. On the narrow promontory, with the waves of the quiet bay lapping its rocky shores, the two-story white house stood like a sea-gull poised for flight. A living-room, with wide w

always filled and trimmed for immediate use-saw the large bell which tolled continuously during storm or fog; then they went down again

d Ida, who was about to become a lighthouse-keeper's daughter, was to be known in later years as

e to take from the homelike cheer inside, no matter how severe they were. Books, pictures, a large rag rug, a model of a sloop, made by Captain Hosea, family portraits belonging to his wife-whose girlhood had been spent on Block Island as the daughter of Dr. Aaron C. Wiley, an

in weight and as muscular as a boy. Every morning she inspected her boat, and if it needed bailing out or cleaning she was at work on it before breakfast; then at the appointed hour she was ready to row her younger brothers and sisters to the mainland to school. Like a little housekeeper, after dropping them, she went to market in Newport for her mother, and s

aving Narragansett Bay, and by officers and men at Fort Adams, as well as by those who lived within sight of the light, and it came

iled slowly into the harbor on its way from New York to Newport with every sign of distress visible among its crew

LE

ose to it as she could, she signaled to the captain to foll

Don't be

bright-eyed guide before she pushed off again for her island home. Later he spread the news among his mates that there was a "boss in

ied so frequently between New York and Newport, and many a letter of thanks, or a more su

who had ever before seen such a seaworthy young mariner as she, or where could such a fund of nautical wisdom be discovered as was stored in her clear head? This question was asked in affectionate pride by more than one good seaman who had become Ida's intimate friend at the

d to do an errand for her mother. She looked out of the window, across the bay, to see if there was any prospect of a shower, and

aughter?" the

rcome them. When Ida reached them in her life-boat, two were clinging to the overturned craft, and two were making a desperate effort to swim toward shore. The watching captain, through his glass, saw Ida row close to the capsized boat and with strong, steady hands pull and drag one after another of the men into her boat. When they were all in, she rowed with sure strokes back across the

foundland dog she exclaimed: "We love it too well to give it up to anybody; don't we, doggie dear? We will succeed to ourselves!" And she did succeed to herself, being finally made keeper of the light by special act of Congress-the appointment being conferred upon her in 1879 by General Sherman as a compliment to her ability and bravery; doubtless because of the recommendation of those f

she lighted the big lamp whose beams shone out over the waters with such comforting gleams for watching m

steady light she could see more clearly. Far out on the waves, beyond the frozen surface of the inner bay, she saw a light skiff bobbing up and down, the toy of wind and wave; in it by the aid of her powerful glass she could see a stiff, still figure. A man had been overcome by the cold-he would die if he were not rescued at once. Quick as a flash she was down-stairs, in the boat-house, had pulled out the boat, although it was a hard task in such a storm even for one as strong as she, and soon was on her way across that part of the bay which was not frozen. Up and down on the storm-tossed waves her craft tossed, now righting itself, now almost submerged-but Ida pulled on wit

instantly to his rescue. He was a heavy man, and Ida tried in vain to lift him into her boat, but was not strong enough. What should she do? The great waves were lashing against the boats in such a fury that what was done must be done quickly. With ready wit she threw a rope around his body un

sked one of them, who

" she r

ly. "A girl like you doing that!

he said; and the seaman, just landed from a coastwise steamer, looked at her with admiration tinged with awe. "She's t

by Ida Lewis, he went his way, but whenever his steamer touched at Newport aft

and talk with whom many a tourist lengthened a stay in Newport, and Ida enjoyed meeting them and showing them her light and her home and her boat

ous storm was raging, and the wind was blowing snow in such white sheets that few captains could make their way among the rocks o

at seemed to be two men in a boat with a load of sheep. The wind was howling, and borne o

he smaller bay white-capped waves and gusts of wind and rain added to biting, stinging cold made it almost impossible even for sturdy Ida to struggle out from the boat-house, to launch her rowboat

hed the men, who could make no headway in the teeth of such a gale, and were simply drifting and watching Ida's acts with incredulous wonder. A young girl-c

shoulders and her cheeks rose-red from the stinging cold of the air. Neither man ventured another word.

and get warm ti

" beg

en awaited the coming of their rescuer. In an hour there were footsteps outside, the door opened, and a glowing girl st

tter be left in the boat-house overnight. The wind is in the righ

eel that if she could do such deeds with simple courage, what could he not do with such a spirit as hers! No one ever pa

for its keeper, and thanking you for what you did for us,

ld come September next, and I hope she'll be your

make her vain, it gave her a deep satisfaction and a trem

were stationed at Fort Adams rowing toward the fort from Newport. A young lad was at the oars, and he showed that he was not in any way experienced as a boatman. A sudden squall overtook the small boat in mid-bay, and, as Ida Lewis looked at it, it capsized. At the moment Ida happened to be without hat or coat, or even shoes. Rushing to the boat-house, she took her staunch friend to the shore, and launched out in the wild squall under an inky-black sky; and she had to row against a wind that drove

o do-to take the risk of leaving him and row to the mainland for a doctor, or to take the risk of doing for him with her own inexperienced hands. Just then his blue eyes opened, and after a drink of stimulant he slowly revived, and at last was able to talk coherently. The storm was still raging and the men remained on the lighthouse ledge with the girl r

rned boat. With her usual promptness in an emergency, she dragged them all into her boat and took them to shore. Another day, from the lighthouse tower, she saw the slender figure of a man clinging to a spindle which was a mile and a half from

ave her appear out of the sky, as one's preserver, and the man, though extremely grateful, did not seem as astonished as he mi

it and self-forgetful courage, despite the grave chances she took, she never had a single fright about her own safety, but simply flew

the bay with the intent, piercing glance for which she was famous among fisher-folk, who declared she could "see out of the back of her head," and caught a glimpse of uniforms, of struggling figures in that part of the bay which was so shal

, then with her oars broke the ice sufficiently to make a channel for her boat. As she came near to them she found that the insecure i

zen were they that she was obliged to rest on her oars, at the same time rubbing their numb limbs as well as

give me such a piece of work to do, or cross the bay in winter at a point where they knew it was a risk." She added, na?vely: "They were as penitent as naughty children, so I took advantage of it and gave them a lecture on things soldiers ought not to do, among them d

officers at Fort Adams, and a gold watch from the men she

en of as the Lime Rock Light, but always as the Ida Lewis Light; and, although she was always averse to notoriety, yet she was forced to accept the penalty of her brave deeds, and welcome the thousands of tourists who now swarmed daily over the

ng medal had been awarded to her-and stating that she was the only woman in America upon whom the honor had been conferred! At a later date she also received three silver medals: gifts from the State of Rhode Island, and from the Humane Society of Massachusetts, and also from the New York Life-S

eaped upon her, none ever meant to her what the first expression o

er and escorted her to a seat on the platform, from which she looked down on a vast audience, all staring with evident curiosity at the slight, dark-haired woman in whose honor the throng had come together. There were speeches so filled with praise of her deeds that Ida Lewis would have liked to fly from the sight

-I don't deserve it!" over and over again, while the audience stood up and applauded to the echo. As if that were not enough to overcome any young woman, as she left the buildin

ense happiness not of her own achievements, but of the pride and joy with which her mother received the account of her daught

an of sixty-five which reminds us strongly of the girl who led the way to the lighthouse point on that day in 1841, to show her new home to her schoolmates.

nd shore, she rashly stood on her feet, lost her balance and fell overboard. Ida Lewis, who was rowing in near the pier, instantly came to

isis we, too, can reflect the heroism of the keeper of Lime Rock Light, for in our hands are greater opportunities for wide service and greater variety of instruments by which to mold the destiny of nations and save life. Proud are we that we, too, are American, as wa

even if I sleep. This is home to me, and I hope the

o long, lulled into an eternal repose by the wind and waves, which had for many years been her beloved companions-and as she slept the

heir value? The gleam of Ida Lewis's light flashes

THE ANGEL OF TH

eing built. The framework was almost up, and David Barton and his little sister Clara, with a group of

e top, Dave!" suddenly cha

d been given his coat was off and he had started toward the new building amid a chorus of cries: "Good for you, Dave!" fr

she exclaimed.

anding on his back on a pile of heavy boards. Limp and lifeless he lay there, a strange contrast to the vigorous young man who had climbed up the building only a few moments earlier, and the accide

e than it takes to tell it the entire Barton family had been summoned to t

the bed which he was not to leave for many weary months. Examination proved that the injury was a serious one, and there was need of careful and continuous nursing. To the surprise of the whole family, who looked on eleven-year-old Clara,

can do it-I want to. Please,

be no end to them, from sheer exhaustion the older members of the family yielded their places temporarily to Clara. Then one day when the doctor came and found her in charge, the sick-room was so tidy an

g Clara near him. Hour after hour, and day after day, she sat by his bedside, his thin hand clasped in her strong one, with the patience of a much older, wiser nurse. She practically shut herself up in that sick-room for two whole years, and it seemed

aking of an eleven-year-old child who would g

Dorothy was seventeen at that time, and her oldest brother Stephen, fifteen, while David was thirteen and Sally ten years old; so it was a long time since there had been a baby in the family, and all were so delighted over

marked by the hand tools of the father. Stephen Barton, or Captain Barton as he was called, was a man of marked military tastes, who had served under "Mad Anthony" Wayne in campaigns against the Indians. In his youngest daughter

and rank. So with the political world; the President, Cabinet, and leading officers of the government were learned by heart, and nothing gratified the keen humor of my father more than the parrot-like readiness with which I l

big as our barn, and gre

s: "When later I ... was suddenly thrust into the mysteries of war, and had to take my place and part in it, I found myself far less a stranger to the co

how to do well, Clara was as busy as possible in some other way. In that household there were no drones, and the little girl was not even allowed to waste time in playing with dolls, alth

ed as early as possible. So on a fine, clear winter morning Stephen lifted her to his shoulders with a swing of his strong arms, and in that way she rode to the school taught by Col. Richard C. Stone, a mile and a half from the Barton farm. Although the new pupil was such a very little girl, and so shy that often she was not able even to answer when she was spoken to or to join the class

d exercise, that he was no less than a hero to the little sister, who watched him with intense admirati

he field, seize a couple of those beautiful grazing creatures, broken only to the halter and bit, and, gathering the reins of both bridles in one hand, throw me on the back of one colt, spring on the other himself, and, catching me by the foot and bidding me 'cling fast to the mane,' gallop away over field and fen, in and out among the oth

pped by the lock was the only way of lighting a fire. Garments were homespun, and home-made food was dried, canned and cooked in large quantities by the busy housekeeper. Although there was always a fire blazing on the hearth of the home, it was thought to be a religious duty to have the meeting-house unheated on the Sabbath day. Little Clara, who was particularl

ere, and the other sisters stayed there, but Clara was not lonesome in the new home in the valley, for at that time she had as playmates the four children of Captain Barton's nephew, who had recently died. With them Clara played hide-and-seek in the big hay-mows, and other interesting games. Her most marked characteristic then and for many years after

d to grind and mix paints. Then she turned her attention to the paperers, who were so much amused with the child's cleverness that they showed her how to match, trim and hang paper, and in every room

yes and bated breath, she learned to cross the little winding French river on teetering logs at its most dangerous depths. When this grew tame, she would go

ilt new dams and a grain-mill, and Sally and Stephen, who both married, settled in homes near the Barton farm. Then came the building of the new barn and David's accident. Eleven-year-old Clara, a

the weary months was far from normal. The family had been so occupied with the invalid that no th

"and she isn't an inch taller. If anything, she seems to be more mo

is back to get acquainted. From that time the slim, graceful animal with his youthful rider became one of the features of the neighborhood as they galloped across country. But, despite all that was done to make her healthy and happy, her self-consciousness and shyness remained, and another way of curing her was tried. She was sent to the boarding-school which was kept by her old teacher, Colonel Stone. He was delighted to have her in the school, and her quick mind was an amazement to him; but she was so homesick that often it was impossible for her to study or to rec

again miserable. Her active mind and body demanded constant work; when s

d her restless nature better, took Clara's side and a few days later she proudly took her place before her loom and with enthusiastic persistence mastered the mysteries of the flying shuttle. How long sh

th quick interest in a new accomplishment, she cut a number of green rye stalks, carried them into the house and scalded them, then laid them out in the sun to bleach, a

Mrs. Barton was in real bewilderment as to what to do with her youngest child. A phrenologist, who was a keen observer of child nature, was visiting the Bartons at that time, and Clara, who had the mum

rself for herself; she will suffer wrong first. But for others she will be pe

thrill of pleasure at the idea of doing something so important as teaching. If her mother was so much troubled about her peculiar traits as to be oblig

schoolhouse, to face and address her forty scholars." That was one of the most awful moments of her life. When the rows of pupils were ranged before her, and she was supposed to open the exercises by reading from the Bible, she could not find her voice, and her hand trembled so visibly that she was afraid to turn the pages and so disclose her panic. But no one knew. With perfect outward calmness,

could endure, to their astonishment, instead of being able to lock her out of the building as they had done with the previous teacher, she showed such pluck and physical strength that their respect was won and kept. After that, almos

ity as the teacher in No. 9, Texas village, spread to North Oxford, she was asked to go there to start a school for operatives. This was a piece of work to her liking, and for ten years she says: "I stood with them in the crowded school-room summer and winter, without change or relaxation. I saw my little lisping boys become overseers, and my stalwart overse

rk, as there were no colleges for women at that time. The year of study refreshed her in mind and body, and, as her mother died during th

had been made to start a public school there, but without success. As a result the children of the poor ran wild in the streets, or when an attempt was made to open a school they broke up the sessions by their lawl

etermination. "Give me three month

r friends were eager to be her pupils, too, and parents were anxious to see what the wonderful little bright-eyed, friendly woman could do for their children. At the end of five weeks the building was too small for her scholars, and the rol

entors who had filed patents. This roused her anger, for she felt the inventors were defrauded and undefended individuals who needed a protector. As her brother's bookkeeper, she had developed a clear, copper-plate handwriting, which would aid her in trying to get the position she determined to try for. Through a relative in Congress she secured a position in the Patent Office, and when it was proved that she was acceptable there, although she was the first woman ever appointed independently to a clerks

ed with Charles Sumner that "Freedom is national; slavery is sectional." She believed in the Union and she believed in the freedom of the individual. So eager was she to help the government in the coming national crisis that she offered her services as a clerk, to do the work of two dishonest men; for this work she was to receive the salary of one clerk, and pay back into the Treasury that of the other,

gh the streets of Baltimore they were attacked by a furious mob who succeeded in killing four soldiers and wounding many more, but the troopers fought them off as bravely as possible and marched on to the station, where they entrained for Washington, many of them arriving there in a pitiable condition. When they detrained at the national

edles, pins, buttons, salves and other necessities, and carried it back to the Infirmary, where she had her first experience in caring for wounded soldiers. When she could leave the Infirmary, she went to the Capitol and found the poor fellows there famished, for they had not been expected and their commissary stores had not yet been unloaded. Down to the market hurried the energetic volunte

A." and adds: "God bless the noble fellows who leave their quiet happy homes at the call of their country. S

upplies and money for the wounded and needy in the Sixth Regiment, and stating that she herself would receive and give them out. The response was overwhelming

ing humanity. There was no time now for sensitiveness, or for shyness; there was work to do through the all-too-short days and nights of this struggle for freedom and unity of the nation. Gone was the teacher, gone the woman of normal thought

ganized, and there was no desperate need for the supplies which were still being shipped to Miss Barton in great quantities, nor was there need of her nursing. However, she went to the docks to meet the wounded and dying soldiers, who were brought up the Potomac on transports." Often they were in such a condition from neglect that they were baked as

women nurses to go to the front, for she was determined to go to the very firing-line itself as a nurse. And, as she had got her way at other times in her life, so now she achieved her end, but after months of rebuffs and of tedious waiting, during which the bloody battle of Fair Oak

he great-hearts of the army, was at his desk, he was confronted by a b

," she told him. "I have large stor

en the needed passports as well as kindly interest and good wishes that she burst into tears as she gripped the old soldier's hand, then she hurried out to make immediate plans for having her supplies loaded on a railroad car. As she tersely p

chance to feel that the positions I occupied were rough and unseemly for a woman, I can only reply that they were rough and unseemly for men. But under all, lay the life of a nation

Barton's name began to be spoken of with awe and deep affection wherever a wounded man had come under her gentle care. Being under no society or leader, she was free

worst cases, just brought from the places where they had fallen. All was in confusion, for the army medical supplies had not yet arrived, and the surgeons were trying to make bandages of corn husks. The new army nurse

ive that," she comman

gruel for the men was in the making. Then it occurred to Miss Barton to see what was in the cellar of the old house, and there three barrels of flour and a bag of salt were found, stored by the rebels and left behind when they marched away. "What wealth!" exclaimed the woman, who was frantically eager to feed her flock. All that night Clara Barton and her workers

of the condition of things. Here are at least one thousand wounded men; terribly wounded, five hundred of whom cannot li

irmly she took him by the elbow and led him to the door, pointi

it?" he e

she said, "and the ho

did

doct

id you g

t them

any ha

want, fou

turned away without a word, and never spoke of the matter again, but his def

to be taken care of until she was better. When at last she was strong enough to work again she went to see her friend Quartermaster-General Rucker, and told him that if she had had five wa

have enough

, the Government assisted in every way, making it possible for her to carry on h

e poor lad, but only tore a hole in Clara Barton's sleeve. And so, again and again, it seemed as if a special Providence protected her from death or injury. At Fredericksburg, when the dead, starving and wounded lay frozen on the ground, and there was no effective organization for proper relief,

e city is covered by our cannon. When your entire army has reached the other side of the Rappahannock, they will fin

ter told of the call that came to her to go a

eavy cannonade, a courier dashed over, and, rushing up the steps of the house where I was, placed in my hand a crumpled, bloody pie

he wrote. 'Your

woman, grew ashy white as they guessed the nature of the summons, ... and they begged me to send them, but save myself. I could only allow t

urch a crowded hospital, every street a battle-line, every hill a rampa

rank, charged over the open acres, up to the very mouths of those blazi

s, carrying away a portion of both the skirts of his coat and my dress, rolling along the ground a few rods from us like a harmless pebble in the water. The next instant a solid shot thundered over our heads, a noble s

infantry march by. At that moment General Patrick saw her, and, thinking she was a frightened resident o

great danger, madam. D

at the ranks of soldiers, "Thank you, but I think I

ers caught her wo

fter line, until the sound of the shouting was like the cheers after

e right, madam!"

n the Wilderness and the hospitals about Richmond, there was no limit to the work Clara Barton accomplished for the sick and dying, but among all her experiences during those years o

he swarthy brows, the toil-worn hands of four million liberat

y were alive or dead. In despair, and believing that Clara Barton had more information of the soldiers than any one else to whom he could turn, the President requested her to take up the task, and the army nu

results. With quiet simplicity she stood before the row of men and reported, "Over thirty thousand men, living and dead, already traced

e throughout the land, not one of them was ashamed to wipe the tears from his eyes! Later the government paid her back in part the money she had spent in her work; but

ne of the finest opera-houses in the East, before one of the most brilliant assemblages she had ever faced, her voice suddenly gave out, as it had in the days when she was teaching. The heroic army nurse and worker for the soldiers was worn out in body and nerves. As soon as she was able to travel the doctor commanded that

the International Committee of the Red Cross Society. Miss Barton did not know what the Red Cross was, and said so. He then explained the nature of the society, which was founded for the relief of sick and wounded soldiers, and he told his eager listener what she did not know, that back of t

m of Germany. In it rode the Grand Duchess. After presenting her card through the footman, she herself alighted and clasped Miss Barton's hand, hailing her in the name of humanity, and said she already knew her through what she had done in the Civil War. Then, still clasping her hand in a tight grip of comradeship, she begged Miss Barton to leave Switzerland and aid in Red Cross work on the battle-fields of the Franco-Prussian War, which was in its beginnings. It was a

mand

any one country. But it is as the guardian angel of our soldiers in the United States that her story concerns us, although there is reason for great pride in the

old Cross of Remembrance, which was presented her by the Grand Duke and Duchess of Baden together. Queen Victoria, with her own hand, pinned an English decoration on her dress. The Iron Cross of Germany, as wel

, and a suffering person had no race or

ich she saw was the solution to efficient aid of wounded men, either in the battle-field or wherever there had been any kind of disaster and there was need of quick aid for suffering. It was no easy task to convince American officials,

ticipated, and its birth in the United States was due solely to the efforts of the determined, consecrated nurse who, when ele

r of an American newspaper paid a tribute to her that ra

ebellion her hands bound up th

ed the gloom of death for the her

bors followed the flag of the saintly Re

in 1896, it was Clara Barton who led the

ing the responsibility of

s Clara Barton, in her seventy-seventh year, who followed to the feve

erever man appre

was, as she said, "her child," and she furnished headquarters for it in her Washington home, dispensing the charities of a nation, amounting

rulers of all nations fluttered from the walls, among them a beautiful one from the Sultan of Turkey. Two small crosses of red glass gleamed in the front windows over the balcony, but above the house the Red Cross banner floated high, as if to tell the world that "the banner over us is love." And to Glen Echo

day's duties should be disposed of before turning in for the night, and at five o'clock the next morning she would be rolling

vate sitting-room was a small mirror into which

o her-the Bible, Pilgrim's Progress, the stories of Sarah Orne Jewett,

rple, and wine color were the shades she liked best to wear, and in which her friends most often remember her. Despite her few extravagant tastes, Clara Barton was the most democratic

est corner stopped its busy barter and trade for a brief moment to pay reverent tribute to a woman, who was by nature of the most retiring, bashful disposition, and yet

on, when, after a meeting, she lingered at its close to chat with General Shafter. Suddenly the great audi

ers for Cl

es hoarse with feeling.

ig

be given anoth

Sweet

ve broke into uproar and tears together, while the little bent w

the untried future and to nurse under the banner of the Red Cross, we shall do our best work when we bear to the battle-field the same spirit of high purpose and consecration that inspired Clara Barton and made he

must wash over her decks, she must lie in the trough of the sea as she does to-day. But the Stars and Stripes are above her. She is freighted with the hopes of

HEROINE OF THE PLAINS IN

of Springfield, Illinois, for such an early hour. From almost every house s

are ready-th

still flocked friends and relatives of the small band of emigrants who were a

d, nor any of the band who were leaving their homes, but felt the thrilling promise and

and luxuries, the family wagons waiting for their human freight. Mr. James F. Reed, who had planned the trip, was one of Springfield's most highly respected citizens, and the Donner brothers, who lived just outsid

wed, Grandma Keyes told the children marvelous tales of Indian massacres on those very plains across which they were going to travel when warmer days came. Grandma told her breathless audience of giant red men, whose tomahawks were always ready to descend on

gone to bed it seemed to her that "everything in the room, from the high old-fashioned bedposts down to the shovel and tongs, was transformed into the dusky tribe in paint and feathers, all ready for a war-dance" as they loomed large

ic terror of it! And now the day

d especially was their family wagon a real pioneer car de luxe, made to give every possible convenience to Mrs. Reed and Grandma Keyes. When the trip had been first discussed by the Reeds, the old

left behind when my dear daughter and her children are going to take

despite her years

ree. They had also cows, and a number of driving and saddle horses, among them Virginia's pon

resses and shirts, also gay handkerchiefs, beads, and other trinkets to be used for barter with the Indians. More important still, carefully stowed away was a store of fine laces, rich silks and velvets, muslins and brocades, to be exchanged for Mexican land-grants. The family wagon, too, had bee

nd a number of other young men, some of them drivers, others merely going for adventure. In all, on that lovely April morning, it was a group of thirty-one persons around whom friends and relatives clustered for last words and glimpses, and it was a sad moment for all. Mrs. Reed broke down when she realized that the moment of parting had really come, while Mr. Reed, in response to the good w

board had been placed, making what Virginia called a "really truly second story" on which beds were made up. Under this "second story" were roomy compartments in which were stowed away stout bags holding the clothing of the party, each bag plainly marked with a name. There was also a full supply of medicines, with lint and bandages for an emergency, and

d where she could hold back the door flap that the old lady might have a last glimpse of her old home-the h

a score of friends and relatives who were going to follow the party to their first night's encampment, while many of Virginia's schoolmates ran at the side of the wagon

g ahead with her father. A bridge was seen in the distance, and Patty and the boys cried out to Milton, "Please stop, and let us get out and walk over it; the oxen may not take us across safely

circle or "corral," within the protection of which cattle and horses were set free for the night, while outside the corral a huge camp-fire soon blazed, around which the party gathered for their first evening meal together, and their last one with th

ore the thrill of this wonderful adventuring. To keep a record of her travels,-that was the thing to do! Full of t

Califor

of what came to be known later as "the ill-fated Donner party of martyr pioneers."

igrants had reached the town of Independe

ever saw and it is good news to find a large number of inhabitants with their wagons, ready to cross the prairie with us. Who knows, perhaps some new friendships will be made as we all go on together! They all seem to

metimes when we galloped back we would find the wagons halting at a creek, while washing was done or the young people took a swim. Mother and I always did our wash at night, and spread it on the bushes to dry. All this is su

reached the Caw River, where there were Indians to ferry us across. They were real and red and terrifying, but I never flinched. If they brought out tomahawks in midstream, I would be as brave as a pioneer's daughter should be. But wou

y, and with most of your family around you, was far better than living longer at home. Besides, she might have died in Springfield. So mother cheered up a little, while all the party helped us in making the sad preparations. A coffin was made from a cotton-wood tree, and a young man from home found a gray stone slab and cut Grandma's name, birthplace, and age on it. A minister of the party made a simple address, and with the sunlight filtering through the trees we buried her under an oak-tree and covered the grave wi

and let down slowly so the wheels would run into the hollowed logs. The women and children stayed in the wagons, and talked and laughed gaily, that they might not show the fear they felt as they balanced above the swollen river. But it was crossed safely and then on the oxen jogged over a rough road until the great Valley of the Platte was reached, where the road was good and the country beautiful beyond expression. Virginia says: "Our party

e fine fare for those who like to eat game, as we have so many good riflemen in the party who are always bringing it in." She then confesses, "I certainly never thought I would be relishing antelope and buffalo steaks, but they are good food when one has grown used to them. Often I ride with father in a buffalo hunt, which is very thrilling. We all help Eliza, w

ite a long narrati

out in the sunlight. They did not seem to notice us as we drove up to the strongly fortified walls around the buildings of the American Fur Company, but by the time we were ready to leave, the red men and their squaws were pressing close to the wagons to take trinkets which we had ready for th

, they crowded around our wagons and showed great curiosity at the funny little smoke-stack sticking through the top of our family wagon. A brave caught a glimpse of his war-paint and feathers in our looking-glass, which hung opposite the door, and he was fascinated. Beckoning to his comrades, he pointed to it, and to the strange reflection of himself, and they all fairly pushed to the front, to see themselves, in the glass. Unfortunately at that time I rode up on Billy, and at once the Indians forgot everything except their admiration of my pony. They swarmed around me, grunting, nodding, and gesturing, and brought buffalo robes and tanned buckskin, also pretty beaded moccasins and robes made of grass, and signed to me that they would give all these in exchange for Billy. I shook my head as hard as I could shake it, but they were determined to have Billy. They made signs that they would give their ponies for mine, but again I shook my head. Th

fight the whole Sioux tribe with a spy-glass! If they come ne

d the Hastings Cut-off. This route passed along the southern shore of the Great Salt Lake, then joined the Old Fort Hall emigrant road on the Humboldt River. The new route was said to shorten the trip by about three hundred miles, and Virginia says in her diary, "Father was so eager to reach Californi

ecided to split up, for a number of the party preferred not to risk taking the new route, w

ivision of the party taking the old trail to Fort Hall, and the rest of u

cult ca?ons to pass; and that the road was mostly good. This was encouraging and we traveled on comfortably for a week, when we reached the spot where Webber River breaks through the mountains into a ca?on. There, by the side of the road, was a forked branch with a note stuck in its cleft, left by Hastings, saying, 'I advise all parties to encamp and wait for my ret

ky journey. It was easy enough traveling at first, but the following day we were brought to a sudden stop by a patch of dense woodland which it took a whole day's chopping to open up enough for our wagons to pass through. From there we chopped and pushed our way through what seemed an impassable wilderness of high peaks and rock-bound ca?ons, and then faced a great rough gulch. Believing it would lead out to the valley, our men again set to work vigorously, and for six long days they chopped until they were almost exhausted. Then a new party of emigrants caught up with us and, aided by three fresh men, the eight-mile road through the gulch was finished. It did not lead to the opening we had expected, but into a pretty mountain dell, but

dicament! Mr. Donner called for volunteers to ride ahead on horseback to Sutter's Fort, to tell of our sorry plight and ask Captain Sutter to send back p

e filled our water casks, made all other preparations for the forty-mile drive, and started off again. We traveled for two days and nights, suffering from heat and thirst by day and from bitter cold by night. At the end of the second day we still saw the vast desert ahead of us as far as we could look. There was no more fodder for our cattle, our water-casks were empty, and the burning rays of the sun scorched us with pitiless and overpowering heat. Father rode on ahead in search of water, and scarcely had he left us than our beasts began to drop from exhaustion and thirst. Their drivers instantly unhitched them and drove them ahead, hoping to meet father and find wells where the thirsty beasts could be refreshed. They did find father and he showed them the way to wells he had found where the beasts could drink, then he traveled back to us, reaching our camp at dawn. We waited all that day in the desert, with the sun beating down on us with cruel heat, and still drivers and cattle had not come back. It was a desperate plight, for another night without water would mean death. We must set out on foot and try to reach some of the other wagon

out to help father to search for them, but none were ever found except one ox and a cow, and in that plight we were left stranded on the desert, eight hundred miles from California! To turn back to Fort Bridger was an impossibility-to go forward meant

was decided to dig a trench, and cache all of our things except those which we could take in the one wagon. A cache is made by digging a hole in the ground and sinking in it the bed of a

umboldt, where on the 5th of October there was such a tragic occurrence that Virginia says, "I grew up into a woman in a nig

ailed, and as concise

trying to make Snyder stop abusing his beasts, roused his anger to the point of frenzy. Father said, 'We can settle this, John, when we get up the hill.' 'No,' said Snyder. 'We will settle it now!' and, jumping on the tongue of his wagon, he struck father a hard blow over the head with his heavy whip-stock. One blow followed another, and father was stunned, as well as blinded by the blood streaming down from the gashes in his head. The whip was about

g some distance from the others, and fath

ur party there was a man who had been in the habit of beating his wife until father told him he must either stop it or measures would be taken to make him. He did not dare abuse her again, but he hated father from that time, and now he had his chance for revenge. After Snyder had been buried, and father had sadly watched the last clod of earth piled on the grave, the men of the party held a conference from which our family were excluded. We waited a short distance away, in terrified suspense to know the outcome of it, as we were sure it concerned father. And it did. His plea of self-defense was not acceptable to them, they said, and we shivered as we saw such bitterness on the men's faces as seeme

if he remained, as an outcast, he would be obliged to see his children starve, while by going he might be able to meet them with food which he had procured somewhere. After a fearful struggle with his own desires, father consented, but not until the men of the party had promised to care for his innocent wife and child

busily. Our wagon was drawn up apart from the others, and we ate our scanty evening meal in silence. Milt Elliott and some others tried to talk with us, and show their friendliness, but mother would only answer in monosyllables and commanded the chil

ade a decision. I was strong and fearless, and father had no food or light or supplies, out ther

to find father and take him some food, and his

, child? You canno

eplied 'I've asked Milt and

ome coffee and sugar. I took a tin cup, too, and a dipper for father to make coffee in, and packed his gun, pistols, and ammunition

he children knew what I was going to do, or if any others of the party discovered my inte

d I went to her side. 'How wil

oment Milton's cautious step was heard at the side of the wagon, and with a la

ooked over the sleeping camp, then peered out into the mysterious darkness of the desert, but he did not see us. For safety we lay down on the ground, and silently dragged our bodies along until we were well out of his sight and hearing; then we pushed our feet along without lif

Let us light

he footprints of father's horse. Although I was nervous and excited enough to fly on the wings of lightning, I did not let the feeling get the better of me, but made a deliberate search of every inch of ground, making a complete circle around the outskirts of the camp, for I was determined to find those tracks. At last! There they were, unmistakable and clear. I gave a smoth

ORTH TO FIND HE

readed sounds. All of a sudden my heart beat so wildly that I was obliged to press my hand over it to quiet its hammering. What I heard or saw or felt I can never explain, but I know that all the terror of my thirteen years of life seemed to be condensed into one moment of dread. And yet go on I must, praying to God to pro

ath

ad been captured by Indians, and this fire we were coming to should lead to horrible disclosures. All this went through my mind, but I said nothing of it to Milton. I just went walking steadily on. Oh, how far away the l

, when surprise had let him find his v

ckers! And here's a tin cup, too, and your pistols, and some powder and caps. Oh, and here are some matches, too!' I excl

on to California and secure a home for his beloved family-and it seems conceited to mention it, but he called me his 'brave daughter' over and over again, until I was glad of the darkness to hide my burning cheeks. Then in the protecting darkness, with Milton

ith you.' Seeing his stern, set face, I pleaded, piteously: 'Oh, don't send me back-I can never

Milton and I were left alone to find our way back to the encampment where mother was watching and waiting for me with an eager, aching heart. When my straining eyes had seen the last of that solitary figure riding off into the black desert, I turned abruptly away, and Mil

the story comes from her pen, it is scarcely possible to realize the anxiety, the torturing fear, the hideous dang

t fate. And even more ominous in their portent of disaster, before us rose the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains, which we must cross before the heavy snows fell, and the question was, could we do it? We left our wagon behind, which was too heavy for the mountain trip, placed in it every article we could do without, packed what we needed in another, and struggled on as best we could until the 19th of October, when we had a great joy. As we were wearily traveling along the Truckee, up rode Mr. Stanton and with him were seven mules loaded with provisions! No angel from the skies could have been more welcome, and, hungry though we were, better than food was the news that father was alive and pushing on to the west. Mr. Stanton had met him near Sutter's Fort, and had given him provisions and a fresh horse.

our only covering-to keep us from being buried alive. In the morning the snow lay deep on mountain and valley, and we were forced to turn back to a lake we had passed, which was afterward called 'Donner Lake,' where the men hastily put up some rough cabins-three of them known as the Breen cabin, the Murphy cabin, and the Reed-Graves cabin. Then the cattle were all killed, and the meat was placed in the snow to preserve it, and we tried to settle down as comforta

stands out with any bright gleam. Christmas was near, and there was no way of making it a happy time. But my mother was determined to give us a treat on that day. She had hidden away a small store of provisions-a few dried apples

you wish!' and never has any Christmas feast since drive

uickly I stood beside her. 'I will go, too,' I said. Up rose Milt and Eliza. 'We will go with you,' they said. Leaving the children to be cared for by the Breens and Murphys, we made a brave start. Milt led the way on snow-shoes and we followed in his tracks, but Eliza gave out on the first day and had to go back, and after five days in the mountains, we, too, turned back and mother was almost exhausted, and we went back just in time, for that night there was the most fearful storm of the winter, and we should have died if we had not had the shelter of our cabins. My feet had been badly fr

ich I held, kneeling by his side. There was something inexpressibly comforting to me in this simple service, and one night when we had all gone to bed, huddled together to keep from freezing, and I felt it would not be long before we would all go to

in the cabin, weak and starving, when we

thank Go

f parties will come and go until you have all crossed the mountains safely.' But," Virginia's diary says: "mingled with one joy were bitter tears. Even strong men sat and wept as they saw the dead lying about on the snow, some even unburied, as the living had not had strength to bury them. I sorrowed

shed horses and supplies, with which father and Mr. McCutchen started back, but were obliged to return to the fort, and while they were conferring with Captain Sutter about their next move, the seven living members of the 'Forlorn Hope' party who had left us the first part of t

r. Even the bravest of the men had tears in their eyes when little Patty patted mother's cheek and said, 'I want to see papa, but I will take good care of Tommy, and I do not want you to come back.' Meanwhile we traveled on, heavy-hearted, struggling through the snow single file. The men on snow-shoes broke the way and we followed in their tracks. At night we lay down on the snow to sleep, to awake to find our clothing all frozen. At break of day we were on the road again.... The sunshine, which it would seem would hav

was their horror when we reached the spot to find that it had been taken by wild animals. We were starving again-where could we

while I tried to run to meet him, but found myself too much exhausted, so I just held out my arms, too, and waited! In a moment he was where we could touch him and know th

h had taken us five days to go in two, we afterward heard. He found the children alive, to his great joy, but, oh, what a sight met his gaze! The famished little children and the death-like look of all at the lake made his heart ache. He filled Patty's apron with biscuits, which she carried around, giving one

w. All night father and his men worked in the raging storm, trying to put up shelters for the dying women and children, while at times the hurricane would burst forth with such fury that he felt frightened on account of the tall timber surrounding the camp. The party was almost without food, having left so much with the sufferers at the lake. Father had cached provisions on his way to the lake, and had sent three men forward to get it be

d seemed to be dying. All gathered around in frantic efforts to revive the child, and luckily father found some crumbs in the thumb of his woolen mitten which he warmed and moistened between his own lips, and fed Patty. Slowly she came to life again, and was carried along by differe

ied, and of the thirty-one emigrants who left Springfield on that lovely April morning of 1846, only eighteen lived to reach California. Among them were our family, who, despite the terrible hardships and hideous privations we had suffered, yet seemed to have been especially watched over by a kind Providence, for we all lived to reach our goal, and were the only family who were not o

ty had been caught in the storm." Virginia says: "I can see mother now as she stood leaning against the door for hours at a time, looking at the mountains. At last-oh wonderful day-they came, father, Patty and Tommy! In the moment of blissful reunion tears and

t was spring i

TT: AUTHOR OF

paper on which she was writing. She had made a seat out of a tree stump, and a table by laying a board across two carpenter's horses, whose owner was work

r pencil with a very learned look, then she would bend over her paper again and write hard and fast. Fina

the air with a still more excited cry: "Listen!" and dropped on the floor to read her poem to a much thrilled audience of two. With great

FIRST

lcome, litt

rm and fea

ad to see

"Sweet Spri

ite snow m

lowers bl

ird, and bui

ve our ro

stocking she was darning over her head, crying: "Good! Splendid!" and quiet Anna echoed t

r fear of making her conceited; but that night, after the verses had been read to a

is going to be a

as one of the most famous writers of books for young people of her generation. The little girl who sat under the apple-tree on that day in early spring and wro

, restless and emotional nature of this daughter, but were deeply interested in developing it in such a way that her marked traits would be valuable to her in later life. To this unfailing sympathy of both fa

of teaching was not liked by the parents of his pupils, so when Louisa was two years old and her older sister, Anna, four, the family went to Boston, where Mr

s she chose. To play on the Common was her great delight, for she was a born investigator, and there she met children of all classes, who appealed to her many-sided nature in different ways. Louisa was never a respecter of class distinctions-it did no

h of those early

l enjoy sudden flights out of the nest to look about t

for some time, and took a trip to the Common together. But when twilight came, her new friends deserted her, leaving her a long way from home, and little Louisa began to think very longingly of her mother and sister. But as she did not know how to find her way

ink frock, white hat and new green shoe

s bell and gave his loud cry, out of the

dat'

to the crier's home and "feasted sumptuously on bread and molasses in a tin plate with the alphabet round it," while her frantic family was being notified. The

Louisa was filled with joy at merely being alive, was shown one morning, when, at t

ybody in dis

of Little Women, had been added recently. During those days they lived on very simple fare, which the children disliked, as their rice had to be eaten without sugar and their mush without butter or molasses. Nor did Mr. Alcott allow meat on his table, as he thought it wrong to eat any creature which had to be killed for the purpose. An old family friend who lived at

you would remember m

ever forget that bandb

Their mother, or "Marmee," as the girls called her, loved the fun as well as they did, and would lay aside her work at any moment to make impossible costumes for fairies, gnomes, kings or peasants, who were to take the principal parts in some stirring melodrama written by the girls themselves, or some adaptation of an old fairy tale. They acted Jack the Giant-killer in fine style, and the giant came t

pilgrims, and journeyed over the hill with scrip and staff, and cockle shells in their hats; fairies held th

, with genius early beginning to burn in the small head which later pro

ous parents and their friends to enjoy our pranks and share our excursions.... My wise mother, anxious to give me a strong body to support a lively brain, turned me loose in

and feelings and fancies, and even at that early age Louisa's journal was a record of deep

ran under the arch of yellow and red leaves I sang for joy, my heart was so bright and the world so

tood there, with no sound but the rustle of the pines, no one near me, and the sun so glorious, as for me alone. It seemed a

ost sincerely think that the little girl 'got religion' that day i

but, on the other hand, she had a sparkling wit and such a keen sense of humor that in her blackest

her body is shown by one of her "private plays," w

f things. The goods I keep where I can see them, and the bads I lock up tight, but they get out, and I have to keep putting them in and squeezing them down, they are so strong. The thoughts I play with when I am alone or in be

have with the daughters to whom the experience of the older generation was helpful and inspiring. A very happy family they were, despite frequent lack of luxuries and even necessities, but loya

y some oversight," says Louisa, "the cakes fell short, and I saw that if I gave away the last one, I should have none. As I was queen of the revel, I felt that I ought to have it, and held on to it tightly, until my mother said: 'It is always better to give away than to k

s, the Alcotts with great glee lent their dinner to the thankful hostess, and thought it a good joke. Again, on a snowy Saturday night, when their wood-pile was extra low, and there was no way of getting any more that week, a poor child came to beg a

come," he declared. And the wood was lent, Mrs. Alcott cheerily agreeing: "Well, thei

Alcotts were about to cover their fire to keep it, a farmer who was in th

mmodate me, and you need not hurry to pay for it. I started for B

he turned to his wife and exclaimed: "Didn't I tell yo

asking to have the change brought back as soon as possible. Despite the disbelief of his family in the tramp's honesty, the m

treated them to a bountiful meal. Unfortunately for their generous benefactor, in return they gave small-pox to the entire family, and, although the girls had light ca

living. So enthusiastically and beautifully did he present his theories that he won many converts, and one of them, a Mr. Lane, returned to America with him to help him fo

anticipation of future crops, and the men who were to start the community were full of hope and enthusiasm, in which Mrs. Alcott did not share, as she knew her husband's visionary nature too well not to fear the resu

tate. It was a black time for the gentle dreamer, and for a while it seemed as if despair would overwhelm him. But with his brave wife to help him and the children's welfare to think of, he shook off his despondency bravely, and decided to make a fresh start. So Mrs. Alcott wrote to her brother in Boston for help, sold all the furniture they could spare, and went to Still River, the nearest village to Fr

e. Both Mr. and Mrs. Alcott did whatever work they could find to do, thinking nothing too menial if it provided food and clothing for their family. Naturally the education of the children was rather fragmentary and insufficient, but it developed their own powers of thinking. Through the pages of their diaries in which they wrote regularly, and which were open to their mother and fat

dered whether they were the result of Mr. Alcott's theories, and Miss Alcott tells of one afternoon when Mr. Emerson and Margaret

arry out your methods in your own family;

and round the corner of the house came a wheel-barrow holding baby May, dressed as a queen; Miss Alcott says: "I was the hor

d, for my foot tripped and down we all went in a laughing heap, while my

model children,

t be in future they would at least have a roof over their heads. An additional amount of five hundred dollars was added by Mr. Emerson, who was always the good angel of the family, and the place in C

t in a tall cherry-tree at midnight and sung to the moon until the owls scared her to bed; and of having sung Mignon's song under his window in very bad German, and strewed wild flowers over his door-step in the darkness. This sounds very sentimental and silly, but Louisa was never that. She had a deep, intense nature, which as yet had found no outlet or expression, and she could have had no safer hero to worship than this gentle, serene, wise man whose friendship for her family was so practical in its expression. Also at that period, which Louisa herself in her diary calls the "sentimental period," she was strongly influenced by the poet and naturalist, Thoreau. From him she learned to know Nature in a closer and more loving intimacy. Thoreau was called a herm

rning for the best in religion and in character, sweetly expressed, and some thrilling melodramas for the "troupe" in the barn to act. These were overflowing with villains and heroes, and were lurid enough to

day a friend passing through Concord called on her, Mrs. Alcott confessed the state of her financial affairs. As a result of that confession, the family once more migrated to Boston, leaving the Hawthornes as occupants of "Hillside." In the city Mrs. Alcott was given a position as visitor to the poor by a benevolent association, and she also kept an employment agency-a more respectable occupation than it was in later years. Once more there was money in the treasury, and with their usual happy optimism the family cheered up and decided that life was worth living, even under the most trying circumstances. While his wife was busy in that way, Mr. Alcott gradually drew a circle of people around hi

womanhood-learning courage and self-denial, linked with cheerfulness from mother

ife offered her. She confesses in her diary: "My quick tongue is always getting me into trouble, and my moodiness makes it hard to be cheerful when I think how poor we are, how much worry it is to live, and how many things I long to do-I never can. So every day is a battle, and I'm so tired I don't want to live, only it's cowardly to die till you have d

s these good points of which she speaks so frankly, she was tall and graceful, with a heavy mass of glossy, chestnu

tty, as she was called, and artistic May, the youngest of the flock, revelled in having rooms of their own, and plenty of space for their own belongings. May was a pretty, golden-haired, blue-eyed chi

girl of seventeen, but she took up the work with such enthusiasm that she managed to captivate her pupils, whose attention she held by illustrating many of their lessons with original stories, telling them in a way they would never forget. When Anna came back the school was so fl

e plays were acted by a group of the girls' friends, with Anna and Louisa usually taking the principal parts. From creating these wonderful melodramas, which always won loud applause from an enthusiastic audience, and because of her real abilit

terested relative showed one of her plays to the manager of the Boston Theater. He read "The Rival Prima Donnas" with kindly eyes, and offered to stage it. Here was good luck indeed! The entire Alcott

he used it, and her enjoyment in anticipating the production had been so great that she was able to bear the actual disappointment with real philosophy. And by that time her mood had changed. A

spect, and impulsive Louisa, who happened to hear the request, asked her mother, eagerly: "Can't I go? Oh, do let me take it!" Her mother, thinking the experience would not be harmful, let her accept the position, an

r books so popular. She says: "Our poor little home had much love and happiness in it, and was a shelter for lost girls, abused wives, friendless children and weak or wicked me

ll he could to add to the family income by his lectures, and by writing articles on his favorite subjects, so all together, they managed to live in some sort of fashion. But Louisa had now made

set it aside until morning, when, with the greatest possible secrecy, she put it in an envelope, sealed, addressed and mailed it. From that time she went about her work with the air of one whose mind is on greater things, but she was always wide awake enough when it came time for some one to go for the mail, and her sisters

e sauntered into the room where the family was gathered in a sewing-b

hear a go

rilling tale with eager attention, and at the end there was a chorus of cries: "How fine! How lovely! How interesting!" Then A

wrote it! Yes,

the group who then clustered around the

ve dollars for it, but it was a beginning, and from that time in her active brain plots for stories long and short

rders, as well as her employment office. Anna had gone to Syracuse to teach in a school there, Louisa had opened a home school with ten pupils, and the calm philosopher fel

ushed after, and five white figures embraced the half-frozen wanderer who came in tired, hungry, cold and disappointed, but smiling bravely, and as serene as ever. We fed and warmed and brooded over him," says Louisa, "longing to ask if he had made any money, but none did till little May said, after he had told all the pleasant

hopeful soul had built much on his success; but with a beaming face she kissed him, saying,

h we never forgot.... It was half tragic and comic, for father was ver

real emotions that make up the most prosaic as well as the most heroic

nature. For a short time she worked for a relative in the country, and she also taught and sewed and did housew

wenty-two, who was ready and eager to play her part in the great drama of life of

real background of the supreme world drama, and she shows this by the intimate, tender domestic scenes which made all of h

and fairy queens played a prominent part, and the stories were thrilling, because their teller believed absolutely in the fairy creatures she pictured in a lovely setting of woodland glades and forest dells. These stones, which she had written down and called "Flower Fables," she found among her papers, and as she read them again she felt that they might interest other children as they had those to whom they were told. She had no money to publish them, however, and no publisher would bear the expense of a venture by an untried writer. B

er 25,

Mot

to cheer me on, I hope to pass in time from fairies and fables to men and realities. Whatever beauty or poetry is to be found in my little book is owing to your interest in, and encouragement of, my efforts from the fir

fussin

is goi

kind wishes for a Happy Ne

your lovin

o

ts to give her daughter understanding sympathy and love-and it is small wonde

sum of $32 for them, which was in sharp contrast, she says in her journal, "to the receipts of six months only in 1886, being eight th

ugh she was still a long way from the shining goal of

there in the bracing air of the hill town. In Walpole, she met delightful people, who were all attracted to the versatile, amusing young woman, and she was in great demand when there was any entertainment on foot. One evening she gave a burlesque lecture on "Wo

iend offered them a house there, rent free, and in their usual impromptu way they left Boston and arrived in the country village, bag and baggage. Mr

on their arrival

s, pleasant people and good neighbors." Despite the good times, it is evident that she was not idle, for

but with real self-sacrifice she accepted it for the sake of the family, and went off in October. Meanwhile Louisa had been thinkin

e clothes, $40 earned by stories sent to the Gazette, and my MSS., I set f

ht to Boston, w

en at Walpole) so put it away and tried for teaching, sewing, or any hones

gratefully accepted, but insisted on paying for her board by doing a great deal of sewing for them. She says in her diary: "I sew for Mollie and others and write stories. C. gave me books to notice. Heard Thacke

re tales." The entries that follow give a vivid picture of her pluck and perseverance in that first

'Bertha' and saw great yellow placards stuck up announcing it. Acted at the W's. March; got $10 for 'Genevieve'. Prices go up as people like the tales and ask who wrote them.... Sewed a great deal, and got very tired; one job for Mr. G. of a dozen pillow-cases, one

th Beth and May had the dangerous disease, and Beth never recovered from the effects of it, although she lived for two years, a serene, patient invalid, who shed a benediction on the sorrowing household. That summer was an anxious time for the family. In her usual way Louisa plunged headlong into housework and nursing, and when n

of sewing; the play may come out, and Mrs. R. will give me a sky-parlor for $3 a week, with fire and board. I s

gan to write and sew and teach and act, and make over old clothes given her by ri

ait when I can work; so I took my little talent in my hand and for

hat the winter in Boston was not merely a

in my pocket, and much hope and resolution in my soul, my heart was very full, and I said to the Lord, 'Help us all, and keep us fo

arnings in her pocket, her worldly goods in her trunk, and hopeful determination in her heart to do some worth-while thing in the world, for the sake of those she dearly loved. She had started up the steep slope of her life's real adventuring, and despite the rough paths over which she must still travel before reaching her goal, she w

. I felt much set up, and my fifty dollars will be very happy money.... I have not been pegging away all these years in v

years old an

she watched edition after edition being published, and found that she had become famous. From that moment Louisa Alcott belonged to the public, and one has but to turn to the pages of her ably edited Life, Letters and Journals, to realize the source from which she got the material for her "simple story of simple girls," bound by a beautiful tie of family love, th

as were those of her first "immortal," yet was each and every book a faithful picture of every-day life. That is where the genius of Louisa Alcott came in. From the depicting of fairies and gnomes, princes and kings, she early turned t

and when longing to set the world on fire in the expression of their genius, learn n

etter inspiration than the three rules given Lo

you

our ne

which lies

E GIRL WHO WON F

enth birthday, which fact made her feel very old, and also very anxious to do some kind of work, as she saw her

s. The humiliation of having some one working to support her-and with the dignity of thirteen years close upon her, was more than she co

f the child who has perfect confidence in the Father to whom she is speaking. "Help me to hel

error in trying to barter with my Maker must have been forgiven, for my prayer was answered within a week.... I have trie

ry routine of boarding-house days more cheerfully, to her mother's joy. And at night, when she lay tossing and trying to sleep despite the scorching heat

t was a strange life the young person remembered in those early days. She and her mother had to flit so often-suddenly, noiselessly. Often she remembered being roused from a sound sleep, sometimes being simply wrapped up without being dressed, and carried through the dark to some other place of refuge. Then, too, when other children walked in the streets or played, bare-headed or only with hat on, she wore a tormenting and heavy veil over her face. At an early age she began to notice that if a strange lady spoke to her the mother seemed pleased, but if a man noticed her she looked frightened, and hurried her away as fast as possible. At first this was all a mystery to the child, but later she understood that the great fear in her mother's eyes, and the hasty fligh

alone, even for a short distance, and in such positions as the older woman was able to secure, it was always with the promise that the child should be no nuisance. And so the young person grew up in a habit of self-effacement, and of sitting quietly

who was always sitting in a corner reading a book, that one day she approached the astonished mother with a proposition to adopt her daughter. Seeing surprise on the mother's face, she fran

ducation, which she saw no way to give her daughter, a

ge of seventeen, I will

to starve trying to lead an honorable life, than to be exposed to such publicity and such awful temptations." And thus, in ignorance of what the future had in store for her child, did she close the door on a golden opportunity for developing her greatest talent, and the young

n what was then "the far west." After a long trip by rail and a thirty-mile drive across the prairie, they arrived at their journey's end, and th

y sights and sounds, but exulted in the new experiences as, "with the other children on the farm, she dropped corn in the sun-warmed furrows, while a man followed behind

hat she was now thrown with other children, who were happy, hearty, rollicking youngsters, and, seeing

drew afar off and stood against the fence, and gave me plenty of room to fall off. But when I suddenly felt the world heave up beneath me, I uttered a wild shriek-clenched my hands in the animal's black hair and, madly flinging propriety to any point of the compass that happened to be behind me, I cast one pantalette over the enameled back, and thus astride safely crossed the pasture-and lo, it was not I who fell, but their faces instead! When they came to take me down somehow the animal seemed shrunken, and I hesitated about leaving it, whereupon the biggest boy said I had '

hich never left her. She had also grown stronger, which satisfied her mother that the experiment had been successful. But now there was education to be thought of, and when news came of the death of that father, who had been the haunting specter of the mother's life, they went back at once to Cleveland, where the mother obtained employment, and the growing daughter was sent to a public school. But at best it gave a meager course of study to one who had a

irthday, and her plea that she might be made

s existence and with watching the boarders, there were two actresses, a mother and daughter. The daughter, whose name was Blanche, was only a year or two older

ther when the young person was not in school. In exchange for her thrilling stories of stage life, Blanche's new friend would tell vivid tales whi

e in a theater.

o brood over the statement when she was alone. Could there be any truth in the statement, she wondered? Then came a marvelous event. Blanche hurri

oung person, "maybe

r, and my mother says she'll look out for you-so

t before her, and again behind her locked door she knelt down and said 'Dear God! D

on found herself on the way to the theater, with self-possessed Blanche, who led the way to the old Academy of Music. Entering the bui

a moment, please-I w

tient frown, for as he himself af

traw hat, while she clutched desperately at the handle of the biggest umbrella I ever saw. Her eyes were distinctly blue and big with fright. Blanche gave her name, and said she wanted to go in the ballet. I instantly answered that she was too small-I wanted women, not children. Blanche was voluble, but the girl herself never spoke a single word. I glanced toward her and stopped. The h

h with you, I'll take you on.' Not until I had reached my office did I remember that the girl had not spok

he marches and dances of a play called "The Seven Sisters," for which she was to receive the large sum of fifty cents a night. She, who was later to be known as one of the g

scenes, so fine on one side, so bare and cheap on the other; at the tarletan "glass windows

only make-belie

lackadaisical nature answered, "Yes, eve

er part with keen relish and learned the drill so quickly that on the second day she sat watching the others, while they struggle

ks, sir," she answered, "because he s

p a rifle, he cried: "Here, take hold, and let's

as put through her paces, but she really did know the drill, and it was no small

oke so roughly to you!" Holding out his hand to her, he added, "

nager want her when the fatal night of he

so little of it, that it must be perfect of its kind. The ballet of which the young person was now a member were supposed to be fai

et corps, that some of the girls had to stand on the one chair while they put their skirts on. The confusion was great, and the new-come

er, because the gas made you yellow, and red because the powder made you ghastly, but it had not occurred to me that skill was required in applying the same, and I was a sight to make any kin

es and your round white and red face, you loo

s and see where the color shows itself.... Of course, when you are making up for a character part you go by a different rule, but when you are just trying to look pretty, be gui

ruction. What I learned later was learned by observation, study, an

ything was supposed to be going up. The manager was giving orders wildly, and then a dancer was late. She was called frantically, and finally, when she appeared on the run, the manager caught her by the shoulders, rushed her across the stage, and fairl

lowed a few moments after the scene already described. The tall girl had a quee

'That's you,' he shouted; 'Go on! Go on! Run! Run!'

on?' cried the f

imply at her sides and

r the line of faces, each girl shrank back from

n there?' he c

r God's s

nd marched and sang with the rest, and all unconsciously took my first step on the path that I was to follow through shadow and through sunshine-to follow

second she was the last one to appear at the box-office window. Mr. Ellsler himself was there, and he opened the door and as

manager had taken down all names, he called out to the lates

l, what is

ping the last syllable from her rightful name. So when Mr. Ellsler asked, "Don't you know your name?" it was the moment to have set the matter straight, but

before. I told him I preferred to wait because it would seem so much more if I got both weeks' salary all at one time. He nodded gravely, and said, 'It

ight, you proved you had both adaptability and courage. I'd like to keep you in the theater. Wil

topped my ever-widening smile, while I ma

Well, suppose you ask her then, and

one must have thought who saw me tearing through the streets on that ninety-in-the-shade day.... One man ran out hatless and coatless and looked anxiously up the street in the direction from which I came. A big boy on the corn

house I came upon her unexpectedly, for, fearing dinner was going to be late, she was hurrying things by shelling a great basket of peas as she sat by the dining-ro

hat's mine and

back into my hand and said, 'No, you have earned this mo

aid for, had made quite a large hole in the six dollars. By her expression and manner she plainly showed how proud and happy she was to be buying a dress for the mother who for

rn something of another world-fairy-like in fascination, marvelous in reality. A world of sunny days and jeweled nights, of splendid palaces, caves, of horrors, forests of mystery, and meadows o

famous classic plays. All stars played a week's engagement, some two, so at least half of the season of forty-two weeks was given over to Shakespeare's p

had just exclaimed: 'Hang out our banners on the outward walls!' That was enough-argument was on. It grew animated. Some were

ith hot desire to speak, but dared not take the liberty.

ou'll have a fit if you don'

d moats and things, and on the outer walls are men with spears and shields, and they seem to be looking for the enemy, and, Uncle Dick, the banner is floating over the high tower!

ted explanation, but Uncle Dick p

re you. Many people read that line that way, but you have w

ne of the crowd of 'witches.' Later, being off duty, I was, as usual, planted in the entrance, watching the acting of the grown-ups and grown-greats. Lady Macbeth was giving

e had so much blood in him?' I remarked, under

ned to face-oh, horror! the stage-manager. He glared angrily at me and deman

as you used to, and I only thought that, as the "sleeping men were laced, and the knives smeared and her hands bathed with it," she might perhaps have whispered, "Yet who

walked away, while I rushed to the dressing-room and cried and cried, and vow

h.' Perhaps I might have come to grief over it had I not overheard the leading man say: 'That child will never speak those lines i

that nothing should be able to frighten me at night. And then, with my pasteboard crown and white she

ring his combat scene, and," says Miss Morris, "my pride of bearing was unseemly, and the oth

iked by her comrades in the profession, it was indeed an ideal place for a young girl to begin her stage life in. The manager, Mr. Ellsler, was an excellent character actor; his wife, Mrs. Ellsler, was his leading woman-his daughter, Effie, though not out of school at that time, acted whenever there was a very good part that suited her. Other members of the company were mostly related in some way, and so it came about that there was not even the "pink flush of a flirtation over

spicion, her conduct should be even more correct than that of other women.' She also repeated again and again, 'Study your lines-speak them just as they are written. Don't just gather the idea of a speec

ored up in Clara Morris's mind, and she made such good

tanding alone. But as she confesses: "I felt every now and then my grief and fright pierced through and through with a delicious thrill of importance; I was going to be just like a grown-up, and would decide for myself what I should wear. I might even, if I chose to become so reckless, wear

l the small expenses of the theater-powder, paint, soap, hair-pins, etc.-to say nothing of shoes and clothing, out of her earnings. Clara Morris and the Bradshaws solved the problem in the

ne. At the same time she was learning much of the technique of the profession, and was deeply interested as she began to understand how illusi

itting in front of the house, looking at a white-robed woman ascending to heaven, apparently floating upward through the blue clouds, enjoyed the spectacle more than I enjoyed looking at the ascent from the rear, w

er breast and eyes piously uplifted, would rise heavenward, slowly, as so heavy an angel should. But alas! There was one drawback to this otherwise perfect ascension. Never, so long as the theater stood, could that windlass be made to work silently. It always moved up or down to a succession of screaks, unoilable, blood-curdling, that were intensified by Mrs. Bradshaw's weight, so that she ascended to the blue tarletan heaven accompanied by such chugs and long-drawn yowlings as s

the company was again in Cleveland, playing for a few weeks before di

Clara never forgot that kindness, for she was in real need of rest after her first season of continuous work. Although her bright eyes, clear skin, and round face gave an impression of perfect health, yet she was far from strong, owing partly to the pr

k of "Clara's luck." "But," says Clara, "there was no luck about it. My small success can be explained in two words-extra work." While the others were content if they could repeat a part perfectly to themselves in their rooms, that was only the beginning of work to their more determined companion. "I would repeat those lines," sa

e broke into a storm of laughter and applause. Mr. Setchell had another speech, but the applause was so insistent that he knew it would be an anti-climax and signaled the prompter to ring down the curtain. But Clara Morris knew that he ought to speak, and was much frightened

ause was for you. You won't be fined or

soothe the tempest of emotion surgin

e icy cold, my mouth was dry-that applause rang in my ears. A cold terror seized on me-a terror of what? Ah, a ten

u up for your didoes to-night? What need you care. You pleased the audience." The other said, quietly: "Just get a glass of water for her; she has a touch of hysteria. I wonder who caused it?" No perso

e early years of Clara Morris's life on the stage went swiftly by, and in her third season she was more than ever what

rt Never Won Fair Lady,' and played it in borrowed clothes and without any rehearsal whatever, other than finding the situations plainly marked in the book! It was an astonishing thing to do, and she was showered with praise for the performance; but even this success

nd downs without resistance, taking whatever part came to hand, gaining valuable experience from ev

hould have played the part of Queen Mother, was laid up with a broken ankle. Miss Morris says: "It took a good deal in the way of being asked to do strange parts to

d Mr. Ellsler; "Just study your lines

rehearsal came. There came a call for the Queen. I came forward. Herr Bandmann glanced at

I'm sorry, sir, but I

when he was told that there was no one else to take the part; if he would not play with me, the theater must be closed

as, the drapery Queen Gertrude wears was particularly becoming to me and brought me uncommonly near to prettiness. Mr. Ellsler groaned,

pearls and in a whirlwind of German exclamations, kissed on brow, cheeks and eyes. Then disjointed English came forth; 'Oh, you are so great, you kleine apple-cheeked girl! You maker of the fraud-you so great, nobody. Ach, you are fire-you have pride-you are a Gertrude who have shame!' More kisses, then sud

after the departure of the impetuous German, who should be announced to play with the company but Mr. E

de..........

atry-Edwin Booth. It was humiliating to be forced on any one as I should be forced upon Mr. Booth, since there was still none but my 'apple-cheeked' self to go on for the Queen, and though I dreaded complaint and disparaging

-the call, 'Mr. Booth would like to s

, smiled, and, waving his hand, said in Bandmann's very

rushed on, 'our heavy woman has a broken leg and can't act. But if you please,' I added, 'I had to do this p

id: 'Well, it was the closet scene I wanted to speak to you about. When the ghost

y mother-but-' He went on with his directions, and, considerate gentlemen that he was, spoke no

somebody call that child back here!' and somebody roared, 'Clara, Mr. Booth is calling you!' I turned, but stood still. He beckoned, then came and took my hand, saying, 'My dear, we must not keep them waiting too lo

oulder, and said: 'My Gertrude, you are very young, but y

yourself: 'That is just how Clara Morris felt when Edwin Booth said she had paid him a compliment.' Yes, I floated, and I'll take a solemn oat

no advancement for her, and a firm determination took possession of her to take a plunge into the big world, where perhaps there might be a chance not o

est parts would be reserved. Then an amusing thing happened. She, who was so lacking in self-confidence, suddenly developed an ability to stand up for her rights. By return mail she informed Mr. Macaulay that her youth had nothing to do with the matter-that she would be the leading woman and play all parts or none. His reply was a surprise, as it contained a couple of signed contracts and a pleasant request to sign both and return one at once. He regretted her inability to grant hi

my congratulations and best wishes, Wood's leading lady!'-and then fell on the bed and sobbed ...

ourney alone, as her mother also was to join her only when she had found a place to settle in. Mr. Ellsler was sick for the first time since she had known him. She said good-by to him in his room, and left feeling very despondent, he seemed so weak. "Judg

e a child then, and though you are pleased to consider yourself a woman now, I could not bea

said, 'I wanted, too, Clara, to make you a little present that would last

ood actress,' he said, 'needs and ought to own a'-he touch

could cry, while I pressed it to my cheek and gloated over it. My thanks must have been sadly jumbled and broken, but my pride and pleasure made Mr. Ellsler laugh, and then the carriage was there, and laughter stille

ght, light-comedy part in which she wore fine clothes; on the third night hers was a "tearful" part. In three nights she completely won the public, and on the third she received her first anonymous gift, a beautiful and expensive set of pink corals set in burnished gold. "Flowers, too, came over the foot-lights, the like of which she had never seen before, some of them costing more than she earned in a week. Then one night came a bolder note with a b

h her interpretation of the small r?le that he at once asked: "Who is she? What is her history?"-only to find that, l

very moment!" and he added, "I know the foreign theaters-their schools and styles, as

rk. She need clash with no one, need hurt no one, she is unlike any one else, and New York has plenty of room f

asm in his New York project that she wrote to Mr. Ellsler, begging his aid in reaching New York managers, and one day,

l willingly consider proposal. Will engag

ight she asked leave of absence, made all other necessary arrangements, and before she had time to falter in her determination found herself at the Fifth Avenue Hotel in the great bustling city of her dreams. She breakfasted, and took from her bag a new gray veil, a pair of gray gloves and a bit of fresh ru

spoke with quick determination to lose no time: "I am the

tated line of business. He would give her thirty-five dollars a week, he said (knowing there

Daly, who, while we talked, was filling up a blank contract, for my signature. Thirty-five dollars against one hundred dollars. 'But if you make a favorable impression you'll get seventy dollars.' I thought, and why should I not make a favorable impression? Yet, if I fail now in New York, I can go West or South not much harme

get anything,

nd went out and back to Cincinnati, with an engage

lifax, where she had accepted a short summer engagement. At the end of it she went on to New York, engaged rooms in a quiet old-fashioned house near the theater, and telegraphed her mot

nd with a large number of untoward incidents crowded into each day, life moved

d, treated the case wrongly. Another physician had to be summoned to undo the work of the first, and as a result Daly's new actress was in a condition little calculated to give her confidence for such an ordeal as the coming one. She says, "I could not swallow food-I could not! As the hour drew near my mother stood over me while with tear-filled eyes I disposed of a raw beaten egg; then she forced me to drink a cup of broth, fearin

nfronted! A chance for triumph or for disaster-and triumph it was! Like a rolling snowball, it grew as the play advanced. Again and again Clara Morris took a curtain call with the

Mr. Daly said, "Oh, well, ring up onc

re them the audience rose as one individual, carried out of themselves by an actress whose work was as rare as it was unique-w

ssing-room, scrambled into her clothes, and rushed from the theater, hurrying to carry the good news to the two who were eagerly awaiting her-her mother and h

s and lots of "calls," dear, and, oh, i

pet, eating a large piece of bread and a small piece of cheese, telling her small circle of admirers all about it, and winding u

titude, she says, "I fell asleep, knowing that through God's mercy and my own hard work I was the first We

now that I have opened it-I'll l

r unique ability and dramatic perception. A lover of literature from childhood, a writer of books in later days, Clara Morris moved on through the years of her bri

arm of the theatrical world, listen to Miss Morris's story of "Life on the Stage," and realize that laurels only crown untiring effort, success

NSON: THE

brought in to him that a young lady wished to see him. The office-boy had never seen her before, an

e if she was not a client. What was his surprise when a very young girl, still wearing short dresses, was ushered in, and stood before h

reply, in such a musical voice that t

to do it your

. "We are in need of money and I

an age when girls are generally amusing themselves, that he gave her some copying which he had intended to have done in the office. With a

ittle faded photograph of a young girl with dark eyes and curly hair, looked

"the young lady with the copying," she was summoned

ied when she was twelve years old. Be seated, please, and tell me a little about yourself. You ar

Anna had been brought up in an atmosphere of refinement and of high principles. All this her new friend learned by a series of friendly questions, and Anna, having begun her story, continued with a degree of frankness which was little less than surprising, after so short an acquaintance. Her father had been a merchant, and had died when she was two years old, leaving practically no income for the mothe

er?" queried h

" she added, with frank honesty. "We take boarders and mother teaches in a private school, too, but even that doesn't give enough money for six of us to live on, an

n her use of language. From her frank tale he gathered that she had been a wayward, wilful, intense, and very imaginative child, who, despite her evident devotion to her mother, had probably given her many hours o

ment, but listened with an amused smile curving his lips, Anna continued: "I adore books, but, oh, how I hate school, when the rich girls laugh at my clothes and then at me if I tell them that my mother is poor and we work for all we have! It isn't fair, because we can't help it, and we do the best we can. I never would say it to them in the world-never! In the first school I went to they use

to such a unique character as this one before him. When she had finished speaking he rose and put a bundle of work in her hand. "I will help you and your brave mother all I can," he said. "While you are doing that

satisfaction in her heart because she had found a new f

pupils; but she did not mention the many devoted friends she had gained by her championship of those who were not being treated fairly according to her ideas. Hers was a strong, talented, courageous, fearless nature, which was bound to be a great power for good or evil. The scales were turned in the right direction by her passionate love for her mother and an intense desire to lift some of the burden of financial worry from her shoulders, as she saw Mrs. Dickinson, with tireless industry,

ing and found a new friend. Both of the schools were free Quaker schools, as her mother could not afford to send her elsewhere, and in both she stood high for scholarship, if not for deportment. In the latter institution she was noted for never failing in a re

, novels, and all sorts of things; then just before I go to sleep I look my lessons over." Evidently the new-comer was a bit doubtful of being able to follow

hich she could lay her hands. Newspapers, speeches, tracts, history, biography, poetry, novels and fairy-tales-she devoured them all with eager interest. A favorite afternoon pastime of hers was to go to the Anti-Slavery Office, where, curled up in a cozy corner, she would read their literature or listen to arguments on the subject presented by persons who came and went. At other times she would be seized with a perfect passion for a new book, and would go out into the s

hen George William Curtis, Wendell Phillips, or Henry Ward Beecher was going to lecture in th

noticed that coal had just been put in and the sidewalk left very grimy. Boldly ringing the bell, she asked if she might scrub the walk, and as a result of her exertion a triumphant young girl was the first person to present herself at the hall that night, and quite the most thrilled listener among the throng that packed the house to hear Wendell Phillips. Although her career was

"Friends' Select School," and in her unselfish reason for this, and the fact that she was forced to support herself and others at such an early age, when she longed for a more thorough education, lies an appea

ew months there, but as she did not like it she applied for a district-school position that was vacant in the sa

onth, but we should not think of giving a girl more than sixteen." Something in his manner and word

ends, she passed weeks looking for a situation in vain. At last she was offered work in a store, but when she found that she must tell what was not true about goods to customers rather than lose a sale, she put on her hat and left at once, and again began her weary quest of work. Everywhere she found that, if she had been a boy, she could have secured better posit

ould go. Having decided this, she went to the home of a young friend and persuaded her to go, too, and together they walked to the hall and were soon deeply engrossed in the arguments presented by the speakers. The presiding o

rivileges which should be given to women as well as to men. As soon as she sat down a tall, nervous man, with an air of proud assurance that the world was made for his sex, rose and spoke firmly against Anna's arguments, voicing his belief that men were by right the lords and masters of creation. While he spoke he fixed his eyes on Anna, as if enchanted by the sight of her rapidly crimsoning cheeks and flashing eyes, which showed emotions at white heat. The moment he finished she stood again, and this time, young and inexperienced though she was, with little education and less knowledge of the great world, she held her audience spellbound by the clear ideas which she poured out in almost flawless English, and by her air of conviction which carried belief in her arguments with it. She spoke clearly, steadily, as she summed up all the wrongs she had been obliged to suff

Longshore, who had opened the meeting, as on the previous Sunday, was now determined to become acquainted with Anna and find out what had gone into the making of such a re

find out something about her home surroundings, Mrs. Dickinson's brow cleared, and, leading them into the house, she spent a pleasant half-hour with them, and was secretly delighted with their comments on her daughter's first appearance in public. When Anna came home Mrs. Dickinson took her to task for not telling her about such a great event, and was surprised to see the real diffidence which the girl showed when she was questioned about the meetings and her speeches. A few days l

she returned our friendship with confidence and love." She was always so buoyant, so full of vitality and gayety, that her visits were eagerly anticipated, and for hours at a time she would entertain her new friends with vivid and droll accounts of her experiences at home

f the knowledge! The hot sun scorched my burning skin as I toiled in the fields, with almost no clothing to soften the sun's heat. I was hungry, but there was insufficient food. At last I was dressed in clean, showy

unt she had been reading before going to sleep, that all slaves were not by any means treated in such a cruel manner, and at last she grew calm. But whenever

ch she was to give. Then, on the first Sunday in April, the seventeen-year-old orator went to her trial experience as an invited speaker. By that time her praises had been widely sung, and when she rose and saw her audience there was a sea of upturned, eager faces looking into hers. Speaking from the depths of her own experience, she held t

se greeted his statement. A starry-eyed girl stood and bowed her acknowledgment and agreed to speak again. As the

success. A collection which was taken up for her amounted to several do

County, at a monthly salary of twenty-five dollars. So interested was she in the "Progressive Friends'" Sunday meetings that she went home every second week to attend them, and her speeches

. Her earnestness and conviction of the truth of what she said made a profound impression, and even those who later criticized her speech as being the product of an immature and superficial mind were held as by a spell while she spoke, and secretly admired her while they openly ridiculed her arguments. At another time she was asked to speak at the laying of the corner-stone of a new Methodist church. The clergymen who gathered together were inclined to be severe in their judgment of the remarks of a "slip of a girl." Anna

o believe that perhaps in this work which she loved above anything else in the world she would some day find her vocation, for she was alrea

on the issue of the hour. At a Kennett Square meeting, where hot debates were held on the burning que

sweet and charming. During her discourse, which was frequently interrupted, Miss Dickinson maintained her presence of mind, and uttered her radical sentiments with resolution and plainness. Those who did not sympathize with her remarks were softened by her simplicity and solemnity. Her speech

these constitutions? Eminent lawgivers have said that certain great fundamental ideas of right are common to the world, and that all laws of man's making which trample on those ideas are null and v

s as if spoken by a far more learned person, and from that time her intense nature had found its true outlet, and he

ke, without notes and with easy fluency. There were many well-known men and women there, who were delighted with what they were pleased to call a young girl's notable performance. But Anna herself

long, and what I said lacked arrangement, o

showered on her at that time, she did not lose her sense of balance,

sserted itself in a desire for more profitable daily work, for as yet she was not able to give up other employment for the public speaking which brought her in uneven returns. She disliked

orator, but, although she disliked the work, she was very skilful at it, and soon became the fastest adjuster in the Mint. But she could not bear the confinement of the adjusting-room and changed to the coining-room, yet even that was impossible to a spirit which had seen a vision of creative work and of ability to do it. Then, too, she thoroughly disliked the men

, eloquent, young and pretty, all of which characteristics made her a valuable ally for any cause. Mr. Garrison, the noted Abolitionist, heard her speak twice, and was so delighted with her manner and ability that he asked for an introduction to her, and invited her to visit Boston and make his house her home while there. She thanked him with pretty enthusiasm and accepted, but before going to Boston was persuaded to give the lecture in Philadelphia, for which she had been dismissed from the Mint. A ten-cent admission was charged, and Judge Pierce, one of the early advocates of Woman's Rights, presided and introduced the young speaker. The ho

on "The National Crisis," and that lecture was the hardest trial she ever experienced. For two days before it she could not sleep or eat, and answered questions like one in a dream, and Mr. Garrison and th

r" by a quartet, accompanied by the organ. At last, with an easy smile, which concealed his real feelings, Mr. Garrison turned to introduce Anna, and she rose and walked forward to the front of the platform, looking more immature and girlish than ever before. Her first sentences were halting, disconnected, her fingers twined and twisted nervously around the handkerchief she held; then she saw a sympathetic upturned face in the front row of the audience staring up at her. Something in the face roused Anna to a determined effort. Throwing herself into her subject, she soon was pouring out a passionate appeal for a broader national life and action. Gone were fear and self-consciousness, gone all but determination t

ton lecture in several other New England cities, and had many fine p

earnest, and expressive. Her lecture was well arranged, lo

one of them. With keen sympathy she nursed and comforted the sick men, who told her freely about their hardships and sufferings, as well as the motives which led them to go int

Boston Fraternity Lyceum. This success encouraged her to plan a series of lectures to be given in various parts of the East, especially in New England, from which she hoped to gain substantial results. But in making her plans she had failed to reckon with

Concord, New Hampshire, she realized with a sinking heart that unless she could turn the tide of her affairs quickly

the trains day after day among strangers, seeking employment for an honest living and failing to find it. I would have gone home, but had not the means. I had borrowe

sensitive in regard to her inability to aid her mother more lavishly, there was need of quick action. Alone in a

hat night at Concord with a heavy heart it proved to be the pivot on which her success as a lecturer swung to its greatest height. As she drew her vivid pictures of the hospital experience and horrors of war and slavery she melted her

through New Hampshire, we can carry the Republi

their cause. Anna Dickinson, then only eighteen years old, was invited to become part of the State machinery, to work on the side which appealed to her sense of justice. Elated, excited, and enthusiastic, she accepted the offer and began to speak early i

f triumphs which ended in a Republican victory, and, though many of her enemies called her "ignorant and illogical" as well as "noi

woman could influence politics, sent word to the secretar

k enough for her to do in other dis

secretary to let her speak in his district. The secretary replied: "It is too late; the progra

azement she was serenaded, feasted, and praised in a way that would have turned the head of a young woman who had been more interested in her own success than in victory for a cause for which she stood. But that and the money she could make and pass on to h

rl speaker see what she could do for them. Anna was only too delighted to accept the challenge, and at once started on a round of stump-speaking and speechmaking, with all the enthusiasm of her intense nature added to the inspiration of her recent success in a neighboring State. The results were almost miraculous. Two weeks of steady work not only turned the tide of popular feeling, but created a perfect frenzy of interest in the youn

youth, beauty, and remarkable voice, all heightened the effect of her genius. Her name was on every lip. Ministers preached about her, prayed for her as a second Joan of Arc raised up by God to save their State for the loyal party, and through it

an audience of over one thousand of the working-men of Hartford, Connecticut. This was the last effort of the campaign, and it was a remarkable t

time. Her power over the audience was marvelous. She seemed to have that absolute mastery of it which Joan of Arc is reported to have had over the French troops. They followed her with that deep attention which is unwilling to lose a word, but greeted her, every few moments, with the most wild applause.... The speech in itself and its effect was magnificent-this strong adjective is the proper one.... The work of the campaign is

York City, where she spoke in May of the same year. Faded newspaper accounts of that meeting fill us with amazement that su

get in at all hazards, ushers were beaten down, those with tickets rushed in, and those without tickets we

clergymen, lawyers, generals, admirals, leaders of the fashionable s

n manner she is unembarrassed, without a shade of boldness; her gestures are simple, her voice is of wonderful power, penetrating rather than loud, as clear as the tone of metal, and yet with a reed-like softness. Her vocabulary

n his lips here to-night; music is the only fitting accompaniment to the eloquent utterances we have heard." Then the famous H

ars, an incredible amount for a simple speech to her unmercenary spirit,

here her frank words were often ridiculed and she was pelted with stones, rotten eggs, and other unpleasant missiles. But she bore it all like a warrior, and made a remarkable record for speeches in parts of the State where no man dared to go. Despite this and the fact that the victorious

e she accepted, and as a result faced, as she later said, the most brilliant audience ever assembled to hear her speak. It was a unique sensation for the dignitaries and men of mark to sit as listeners at the feet of this slender girl, who was speaking on profound questions of the day; but she made a deep impression, even on those who did not agree with her opinions, and

quence, her magnetism, her flow of language, not for any minor use, but in presenting to the public the great problems of her day and in pleading

ong, independent, unselfish nature. It has been said that she rose to fame on the crest of three waves: the negro wave, the war wave, and the woman wave. If that is so, then was her success as a public speaker something of which to be proud, for to have spoken on such subjects surely betokens a great nature. Anna Dickinson has been called the "Joan of Arc" of her day and country. If she had not t

OWLE

or valuable material gleaned from many sources. Especially does sh

k of the Indians

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History of the

gleston) Seely

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Pioneer Wome

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Little Women Letters f

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Century, Munsey

History o

Famous Pris

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blank] back after school hours." In the context, and with the space and few visible

which would appear to be a deliberate spelling on the part of the