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CLIPPED WINGS 
 
 BY 
 
 LOTTIE McALISTER 
 
 TORONTO 
 
 WILLIAM BRIGGS 
 
 MoNTRKAL : O. W. COATES 
 
 Halifax : S. F. HUESTIS 
 
 1899 
 

 201: 
 
 Department of Agriculture. ^ '*" *'"**■• *' ^^e 
 
 ^/ 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 We had the pleasure of reading this volume 
 in manuscript, and were profoundly impressed 
 with its character. It is written with brilliant 
 literary skill, with force and vivacity, with wit 
 and humor, and with some touches of tragic 
 pathos. It sketches Canadian country life, life 
 in a hospital, Methodist preachers, Quarterly 
 Boards, and other features of special interest to 
 Methodist readers. It is a tremendous indict- 
 ment of the liquor traffic, and sets forth the 
 mission and power of woman to ennoble and 
 bless society. It is full of religion as well as of 
 fun, is not a bit preachy, but a heartsome, 
 wholesome book. Some of the character- 
 sketching is as strong as anything we know. 
 
 W. H. WiTHROW. 
 
 Toronto, May 26, 1899. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CIIAPTBR 
 I. 
 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 
 HlUJSDALE . 
 
 The Weeks' Homestead 
 
 The Clinging Vine . 
 
 A Heroine's Reverie 
 
 A Proposal 
 
 Billy Watson . 
 
 Henry Weeks . 
 
 Village Gossip . 
 Drama in a Railroad Coach 
 Agnes's Initiation in a Eospital 
 More Hospital Experience 
 Some of Hillsdale's Decorations 
 A Christmas Eve Tragedy 
 Water into Wine 
 
 • • • 
 
 Death's Harvest 
 
 PAOK 
 
 7 
 . 13 
 20 
 . 27 
 . 32 
 . 39 
 44 
 49 
 . 54 
 60 
 . 65 
 . 71 
 78 
 86 
 
CHAPTBR 
 
 \^\#i'« J. mi A a. 
 
 PAOR 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Hillsdale's Funerals 
 
 98 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Innovations 
 
 . 103 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Agnks's Strange Vision . 
 
 . 108 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Agnes an Orphan 
 
 . 119 
 
 XX. 
 
 Saint Dives .... 
 
 . 124 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Rev. Horace Harding 
 
 . 1.32 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Woman Suffrage 
 
 . 138 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Love 
 
 . 148 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The Ubiquitous Shirt- Waist . 
 
 . 153 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Hillsdale Once More 
 
 . 162 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The Village Joker . 
 
 . 169 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Theories Exploded 
 
 . 179 
 
 LiL 
 
CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HILLSDALE. 
 
 The great throbbing heart of the city, which 
 generates the initial impulses of progress, sends 
 them on their widening way, until the last faint 
 ripple reaches the shores of remoteness. Though 
 almost imperceptible to the careless eye of the 
 age, which sees nothing but what is tangible, 
 ponderable, visible and gustable, this last gentle 
 undulation of an almost spent force forms a 
 circumference which retransmits reciprocal bene- 
 fit to its centre. The sociologist in his research 
 for finality in the social compact reaches the 
 husbandman in the last analysis. The whistling 
 ploughboy turns the enriched furrows for the 
 distant multitudes. 
 
 There are some populations, however, who 
 regard themselves as absolute and uncondi- 
 tioned, and therefore do not recognize in the 
 
8 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 t I' 
 
 . il 
 
 I 
 
 ! 
 
 least the claims of the rest of creation. Hillsdale 
 was one of the latter, and on some occasions 
 went so far as to assert, in tones stentorian, that 
 its heathen quite equalled those of the Soudan 
 both in quality and quantity. 
 
 Hillsdale, like a thrifty housewife, had 
 awakened early one morning and performed all 
 its duties, active and passive. Houses were 
 built, a school -house was erected, a church built, 
 and, like the rest of Christendom, counter- 
 balanced by building a tavern. 
 
 Hillsdale in afternoon dress, spotless apron, 
 knitting in hand, was drowsing through the long 
 afternoon, nestling at the base of a mountain 
 which had stood socketed through dim ages, and 
 therefore, turning a cold shoulder to the friendly 
 advances of modem times, it was in a position 
 to challenge innovation. One bold cliff stood 
 out from the mountain's side, embrowned with 
 time, barren and bleak, with outlines resembling 
 the human face. The seamed lips silently pro- 
 tested against the mutability of the age. A 
 generous-hearted corporation, with commendable 
 and usual zeal, offered to ameliorate existing 
 conditions by an electric car service. Hillsdale 
 strenuously and with no uncertain sound ob- 
 jected to this thin edge of the wedge of modem- 
 ness, and hinted mysteriously that there could 
 
HILLSDALE. 
 
 9 
 
 be but one result. This result was well under- 
 stood to be the heels of a circumventing world 
 kicking up a dust in its face ; besides there was 
 the jeopardy to life and property. The roadside 
 pasturage was valuable, and the village cow, as 
 sacred an animal as the ancient Egyptian Apis, 
 must not be disturbed in her leisurely flexuous 
 ruminations. Her lowing was far in advance 
 of the strains of martial music. Hillsdale was 
 beyond a doubt conservative. 
 
 It seemed but yesterday that Sally Jenkins* 
 kerosene lamp frightened a whole surprise party 
 into a stampede, which was for Sally a great 
 saving of temper, preserves and sundry victuals. 
 Indeed, there is to this day in some quarters 
 lingering conscientious scruples as to the use of 
 lucifer matches, inasmuch as they savor of the 
 pit. 
 
 The genius of the civilization was faithfully 
 portrayed in the wise old doctor who had per- 
 formed the duties of physician and dentist to 
 three generations. A patient, converted to a 
 spirit of reform by an unscientific extraction of 
 molars, inquired indignantly why he did not 
 introduce " them 'sthetics " into his office " like 
 as how he had read about in The Progress." 
 
 " Tut ! tut ! man, all new-fangled humbug and 
 nonsense," replied his eminence the practitioner. 
 
10 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 i • 
 
 r ! 
 
 " I would not get the stuff before there would 
 be something else. I am waiting for the perma- 
 nent, the ultimate. Surely the dusty attic of 
 oblivion is well filled with contrivances. Jonah's 
 gourd has ever been accompanied by a worm." 
 Poor soul ! the wheels of progress ever move 
 onward, and make but one revolution in time 
 and eternity. 
 
 The mental vision, however, of all the inhabi- 
 tants of Hillsdale was not bounded by the local 
 horizon. There were those who pressed the eye 
 of the soul against a narrow casement for the 
 widest possible outlook. Underneath the mono- 
 tony and quiet, subtle touches from the great 
 ongoings of the world registered themselves in 
 the brain and heart, from the flashes which fell 
 on those eyes at that casement. 
 
 The mother followed her boy as he struggled 
 honorably and heroically along the crowded 
 road of mediocrity, or perchance, if of stronger 
 pinion, soared to fame ; and alas, too, as he fell 
 ignominiously, to shame. In the latter cp-se it 
 was always the wicked city, and not the boy, that 
 bore the opprobrium. The corner tavern with 
 the smiling landlord was rarely if ever counted 
 in as the initiation of this graduation in igno- 
 miny. " The children of this world are in their 
 generation wiser than the children of light." No 
 
HILLSDALE. 
 
 11 
 
 one save the landlord saw anything but economy 
 in the neighborly proximity of his house to the 
 village school-house. His pump served both. 
 " Ye blind guides which strain at a gnat and 
 swallow a camel." 
 
 In a year or so the boys took the one step 
 from the pump to the row of armchairs on the 
 veranda. What in the churches is the counter 
 attraction to this seat of the scorner ? The law 
 lays its strong hand on the street loafer with a 
 stern " Move on," but why does it tolerate this 
 seat of ease in his primary education ? The sty 
 of a respectable pig which is laudably spending 
 its days in the accumulation of adipose tissue 
 for Gentile consumption is classed as a public 
 nuisance when located on the main comer of a 
 thoroughfare. To many citizens the sty is 
 preferable to the sights, sounds and fumes 
 emanating from this enthroned candidate for 
 vagrancy of the hotel frontage. If these seats 
 were seats of honor for the graduates of the bar 
 inside, the privilege of exhibiting the finished 
 work of the liquor traffic should be granted, but 
 the seats are ever full to overflowing with fresh- 
 men and sophomores. There is no room except 
 in the gutter and the grave for the sot. 
 
 Many boys left Hillsdale with the possibilities 
 of sturdy manhood and honorable old age, but 
 
12 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 the seed of probabilities already sown bore the 
 harvest of an untimely and dishonorable death. 
 The end began when the boys sat on the hotel 
 stoop in an armchair tilted back and with hat 
 tilted forward. 
 
 Hillsdale was destined to write a new chapter 
 in its history. This was not brought about by 
 steam nor electricity, nor even by a woman in 
 mannish attire on a wheel, but because moment- 
 ous forces, whose fountains lie at Nazareth and 
 Calvary, in their far-reaching flow, moved the 
 responsive soul of a young Canadian girl. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE WEEKS' HOMESTEAD. 
 
 Half a mile from the village, at the end of a 
 lane, stood the house of farmer Weeks. It was 
 a very ordinary house that had once been 
 painted. The front door opened directly into 
 the parlor. Some young ladies who have been 
 so unfortunate as to have received a liberal 
 education, including music, art, and literature, in 
 a three months' term at a ladies' college, have 
 emphasized the affectation of an otherwise glori- 
 ous generation by designating this apartment of 
 venerable age and honored by Cupid, the recep- 
 tion room. 
 
 Opening off the parlor was the spare room. 
 In this particular case spare, sure enough — spare 
 in comfort, spare in furniture, spare in guests. 
 Above were the half -story family chambers. In 
 summer these rooms were intensely hot. It is 
 yet a disputed point whether man or necessity 
 arranged that they should be needed so little in 
 
14 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 summer. The legitimate hours for sleep in 
 Hiram Weeks' house were from 11 p.m. to 4 a.m., 
 with wakefulness counted in. 
 
 The pole star of the man at the wheel was 
 hard work and wormwood tea ; the family were 
 on a forced march to a golden Klondike. Hiram 
 accepted the concept of perpetual motion as a 
 delusion in mechanics, but evinced signs of 
 genius by experimentation in this direction on 
 himself and those around him. Two passages 
 of Scripture Hiram regarded as the " most sensi- 
 blest " in the Bible. He did not regard the Old 
 Testament as a millstone, and in no sense would 
 he be classed with the higher critics. One 
 passage was from the book of Genesis : " In the 
 sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread ; " the 
 other was from the New Testament, and was 
 always quoted without connection : " Not sloth- 
 ful in business." Had he been more familiar 
 with the " Word of Life " he would have found 
 that God had made ample provision for recrea- 
 tion in the social, domestic, and religious life of 
 a nation which had served with rigor, but knew 
 nothing of this experience, except as spectators 
 and as miiiisters to the luxurious Egyptians. 
 
 He who " knoweth our frame and remembereth 
 that we are dust " made holidays a part of the 
 religious life and ritual, and did not consider 
 
THE WEEKS HOMESTEAD. 
 
 15 
 
 every seventh day sufficient to make up the 
 wear and tear on this triple organization of ours, 
 but enjoined comparative rest every seven years ; 
 and to renew the youth of the nation, to this 
 was added the year of Jubilee. God's plan and 
 intention for human life, even outside the 
 charmed gates of Paradise, was change, and not 
 monotony. The penalty, " In the sweat of thy 
 face thou shalt eat bread," was tempered, and 
 the Father's hand wiped the beaded face as He 
 bade the human race look up betimes, in antici- 
 pation, from the digging, delving and spinning, 
 to a place where rest remaineth. 
 
 Doubtless following a law of compensation, 
 these chambers were intensely cold in winter. 
 It was consolation enough to remember there was 
 more money in dry cordwood than in ashes. 
 Behind the main building was an ample kitchen. 
 Here the real business of life was prosecuted 
 with never-ending activity. When tired hands 
 at last dropped their task, the little yeast germs 
 worked their way to the breakfast pancake or 
 the batch of bread. Here, indeed, had been 
 ground out a large portion of the precious golden 
 pile stored so safely in a chartered bank. That 
 pile was a thermometer of Hiram's wife. It 
 had to be read inversely. In the exact propor- 
 tion it went up, she went down, physically and 
 
 ''■m 
 
16 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 I ii 
 
 It 
 
 mentally. To be shut in, day after day, within 
 four walls, on a treadmill of domestic duties, 
 without a protest of either mind, body, or soul, or 
 a federal rebellion of this trinity, is impossible. 
 
 As men go, Hiram was not cruel -hearted. His 
 compassion was clearly seen by the neighbors, 
 in his public and private bemoanings of his 
 wife's weakly condition. He would frequently 
 remark, " She was a likely gal when I married 
 her, and her folks were long livers and good 
 workers, but now it tuckers her out completely 
 to milk ten or twelve cows and feed the calves 
 night and morning. I give her the best time I 
 know how. I take her to all the funerals in the 
 neighborhood and to the county fair, unless it is 
 haying, harvesting, or seeding." 
 
 It was very unfortunate that Mrs. Weeks was 
 breaking down, but it was absolutely unavoid- 
 able. Acre must be added to acre, and dollar to 
 dollar. Hiram claimed to worship God in his 
 own way, and sometimes in fine weather drove 
 to church. Although ignorant of alliteration he 
 was accustomed to say, " Naturally a man could 
 not be expected to go to church when the rain 
 and roads would take ten dollars out of the 
 horses and harness." He was right. It is an 
 act of grace, not nature. Hiram never thought 
 of walking to church. When a man has worn 
 
THE weeks' homestead. 
 
 17 
 
 himself out walking miles upon miles up and 
 down the furrows during the week, half a mile 
 is more than a Sabbath day's journey. Besides, 
 this was Hiram's day for having the " sciat " in 
 his hips, and other ill-defined aches and pains. 
 A merciful providence sent relief before daylight 
 Monday morning, and the first to draw up tri- 
 umphantly at the cheese factory door was our 
 hero, smiling and hearty. 
 
 Broad acres and oceans of fresh air do not 
 insure immunity from parasitical germs of Sun- 
 day disease recurring with exact periodicity. 
 The inhabitants of both city and country suffer 
 alike this epidemic, that is as mysterious in its 
 comings and goings as the plagues of Egypt. 
 
 On one of the few Sabbaths when health and 
 weather conspired to entrap Hiram to church, he 
 heard a sermon from the text, " Lay not up for 
 yourselves treasures upon earth," with the stress 
 laid on the negative. He stigmatized the 
 speaker a fool, and to the slight extent his 
 pocket was concerned made it an impossibility 
 for him to do otherwise than practise his pre- 
 cepts. In this respect Mr. Weeks was a consist- 
 ent man. The minister knew his flock, and 
 seldom said anything to disturb their peaceful 
 and well-earned Sunday slumber. Hiram's usual 
 programme was to begin his rest by closing one 
 2 
 
18 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 eye for a few moments, then he would open 
 that one and close the other for about the same 
 space of time, whereupon, with a little shuffle 
 of feet, both would fly open, which was the pre- 
 lude to shutting both in sleep. This procedure 
 betokened to the minister that all was well. 
 
 On this particular occasion, however, it was 
 not after that sort. The minister was enforcing 
 the truth that God regarded us as stewards ; 
 that what He had given us was for use, and not 
 for hoarding. The moth and rust do not get in 
 their work on anything in use. 
 
 " We thought your sermon was for us, min- 
 ister," Hiram said at the church door. 
 
 " No ! no ! " the worthy man hastened to 
 reply, with undiscovered irony, " it was for the 
 Hottentots." 
 
 All the gospel Hiram wished to hear and 
 practise was the gospel of hard physical toil and 
 the accumulation of wealth thereby. He ex- 
 pected this to be his passport to the land celes- 
 tial. He viewed, weighed and judged everything 
 from a monetary standpoint. A pastoral call 
 was interpreted to mean that either the oat or 
 potato bin was empty at the parsonage. 
 
 His daughter Agnes desired to be a teacher. 
 Her father was a school trustee, and answered 
 her with the authority of personal knowledge : 
 
 
THE WEEKS HOMESTEAD. 
 
 19 
 
 " You would git only S200 a year, and you are 
 worth more than that on the farm." Agnes had 
 repeatedly heard the stock valued in almost the 
 same words. True to the ruling passion of his 
 life, Hiram had drawn opposite to his daughter's 
 name the sign of equality, and kept mentally in 
 view the figures he had assigned. It would have 
 been wiser to have given Agnes time to work 
 out this problem for herself. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE CLINGINO VINE, 
 
 Mrs. Weeks was not a sentimental woman, 
 but she had married Hiram with genuine affec- 
 tion. Love's eyes are the eyes of the miners, 
 which see not the obdurate ore and dross, be- 
 cause they are dazzled by the flecks and veins of 
 yellow gold. To other eyes Hiram's character 
 was as unlovely as a piece of cracked common 
 delf , but his wife's love had wrought in her a 
 merciful optical delusion that rendered invisible 
 a multitude of defects. Standing at the begin- 
 ning of married life she did not shrink, although 
 the way upwards looked steep and the steps 
 could not all be counted — hope discovered some 
 breathing places. When the children were 
 grown, and the mortgage on the farm paid, she 
 would have time to read a book now and again. 
 A social cup of tea with the neighbors and a 
 jaunt somewhere with her husband out of sight 
 of Hillsdale, these simple things would be recrea- 
 tion in a future time. 
 
THE CLINGING VINE. 
 
 SI 
 
 She waH quite happy in those early struggles. 
 When Hiram made Agnes's cradle, she held the 
 boards while he nailed them together. From 
 some quarter she procured paint, green for the 
 box and red for the rockers. With a little ochre 
 she boldly designed a tree on each side, bearing a 
 striking resemblance to the trees of a miniature 
 Noah's Ark. Hiram suggested painting some 
 red apples on the trees, so that she would be 
 kept in mind of the trouble woman got into by 
 being curious. She had only smiled at Hiram's 
 rare wit, and was as proud of the cradle and its 
 black-eyed occupant as any mother of her darl- 
 ing in a bamboo, silk and lace receptacle. 
 
 When her husband was to have a stumping 
 bee, or the threshers, he would kill a sheep 
 before daylight, and his wife never failed to 
 dress it and have it cooked in time for the men's 
 dinner. Then there were hot, breathless days 
 when she stood side by side with Hiram and 
 raked in the hay field, keeping an anxious eye on 
 the two little toddlers in the fence corner, on a 
 bundle of hay. Anticipation had given place to 
 the glance of retrospection, and it saw the trod- 
 den path dizzily steep, without the longed-for 
 breathing places, and she was glad that by 
 simple faith she was sure of "the rest that 
 remaineth." 
 
 
CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 Mrs. Weeks was a type of what is now 
 classed among former things as the ideal old 
 woman. Unfortunately, ideals are generally 
 abstract. It is hard to concrete them. They 
 are somewhat of the nature of a will-o'-the-wisp, 
 — they are now in the future, and then in the 
 past. To childhood manhood is the golden age. 
 The careworn man pays his tribute to light- 
 hearted childhood. So now this ideal dwells 
 fondly in the regretful memory of mankind. It 
 is inexplicable that she was not valued as such 
 until she had spread her hitherto unnoticed 
 wings and was disappearing heavenward. 
 
 Mrs. Weeks had been a marvellous compound 
 of baker, seamstress, laundress, tailoress, barber, 
 gardener, nurse, man servant, maid servant, and 
 had found time to be a Sunday-school teacher. 
 She had likewise the executive ability to accom- 
 plish the duties of each of those vocations in a 
 working day of eighteen hours. Even modern 
 credulity is somewhat taxed to believe the para- 
 doxical theory that this woman of former days 
 and herculean tasks was a clinging vine. Tra- 
 dition says she clung, and she would cling to a 
 cold stone wall; she would cling to a rotten 
 stump or stub, and transform them into things 
 of beauty. She clung to the sturdy oak, but 
 alas for her when the oak was manufactured 
 
 III! 
 
THE CLINGINO VINE. 
 
 into a hogshead It would have been well to 
 liavo preserved the Hpecies by resolving society 
 into a well-regulated hop garden, with a decent, 
 respectable prop for each tender vine. 
 
 Every effect has a cause, and an unknown 
 Rip Van Winkle, who mistook himself for an 
 ethnologist, on opening his eyes caught sight of 
 an effect, when, lo ! a wiser than Solomon is here. 
 He has discovered something new under the sun. 
 It is a new species of the genua homo. More- 
 over, the creature is not pleasing, and is there- 
 fore disparagingly named the " New Woman." 
 The discoverer, preparatory to relegating her to a 
 national depository of specimens and dusty obliv- 
 ion, is analyzing and classifying. Ere the self- 
 imposed task is finished the species will have 
 become as numerous and aggressive as our fami- 
 liar American friend, the doryphoi'a (lecem- 
 lineata. 
 
 No one denies the effect is here. Her arrival 
 was heralded even in Hillsdale. Everyone trans- 
 lates her according to his own standpoint, per- 
 sonal equation and line of vision. The dudelet, 
 who dispensed calico and coal oil, onions and 
 overshoes, nails and needles, behind the counter 
 of Hillsdale's departmental store, and who was 
 the village authority on fashionable cut and 
 exact shade in male attire — in fact, his master 
 
 i 
 
 a 
 
 Eh 
 
 
24 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 all but cornered the market, stocking his store 
 with just the article — exhausted his vocabulary 
 and ideas on the subject in the sentence, " Ah, 
 Chawley, she thinks she knows, you know." 
 
 But who is this " New Woman " ? A process of 
 elimination may help to answer the vexing 
 question. She cannot be the woman who has 
 left the privacy of home for a public arena of 
 action. In Christian countries the custom of 
 years has placed its sanction on the brow of the 
 woman who, in decollete dress and ablaze with 
 diamonds, appears on the stage in a crowded 
 theatre, the cynosure of every eye, aided by 
 every available eyeglass, thereby giving the 
 impression that the curves of neck and arm and 
 the poise of the head are of more importance 
 than voice or declamation. No self -constituted 
 guardians of woman's domestic duties have 
 placed themselves along her pathway to greet 
 her with the Cerebus howl of " Home ! Home ! " 
 
 The " New Woman" cannot be the woman who 
 neglects her home for other pursuits. The 
 butterflies of fashion, who detest babies and 
 dote on pugs, have ever turned from home to 
 pursue a bubble. 
 
 Half a century ago Mrs. Jellyby wrote and la- 
 bored for the Africans, while her children, lacking 
 an application of soap and water, assumed their 
 
 _* 
 
THE CLINGING VINE. 
 
 25 
 
 hue. The pride our nation takes in the Anglo- 
 Saxon word home, and in its concretion in a 
 materialized reality, proves conclusively that our 
 women are homemakers. 
 
 Our oldest dictionaries give us the meaning 
 of Amazon and virago. The " New Woman " 
 cannot be any of these classes. They are old. 
 She is neiu. It will be conceded that the " New 
 Woman " is the earnest-browed woman, who 
 stands on the public platform to advocate all 
 kinds of moral reforms. She has made her 
 appearance upon school boards. She is a bread 
 winner. She is agitating for the extension of 
 the franchise so that she may be included. She 
 proposes not only to rock the cradle for the 
 world, but to rock the world for the cradle. 
 From whence came this " New Woman " ? In 
 natural sequence, even after the vagaries of the 
 most credulous evolutionists ; the elephant does 
 not follow the tadpole. Before the daughters 
 were the mothers. The new is not in contradis- 
 tinction to the old. In the mothers were stored 
 capabilities that the chilling breath of prejudice 
 nipped in the bud. They, nevertheless, dreamed 
 their dreams and thought their thoughts, and 
 realized to the full their limitations, and have 
 bequeathed to their daughters as their birthright 
 an accumulation of possibilities that are now 
 
 iiF 
 
 1. j 
 
 r\\ 
 
 . }' 1 
 
 M 
 
 y 
 
 - •;* 
 
 1 
 
 n 
 
:iil 
 
 26 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 escaping the bounds that said : " So far and no 
 further." 
 
 Every sphere of human action, from the 
 throne of government and achievement to the 
 sick-bed of the lowliest, are enlarging them- 
 selves to admit woman. The world is an old 
 and stupid school-boy, learning just now, slowly 
 and awkwardly enough, the meaning of the 
 words : " I will put enmity between thee and the 
 woman." Satan hurled the creature at the 
 Creator, and God sent her back with a threat 
 which has been a pillar of cloud to the enemy, 
 but to the woman a pillar of fire, an ennobling 
 commission. 
 
 The seed of divine prophecy, sown in the 
 dawn of creation, is but beginning to expand 
 into a beautiful harvest, as the rosy-hued morn- 
 ing of the twentieth century greets the earth. 
 All these centuries man has worked alone on the 
 solution of public questions, moral and other- 
 wise. Many problems remain unsolved and will 
 continue so until he finds his true helpmeet in 
 woman. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A HEROINE'S REVERIE. 
 
 One evening in the early summer Agnes 
 Weeks sat on her father's front door-step look- 
 ing up into the blue dome which looked down 
 upon landscapes that bore upon their breasts 
 palaces, markets, huts and tombs. Day was 
 dying down. 
 
 She knew nothing of Delsartism, yet she was 
 reverie personified. There was a natural grace 
 in the careless attitude of the lithe, strong young 
 figure. The dark hair was parted and rolled 
 back primly in a style that has been in vogue at 
 least seven times in the last fifty years. Her 
 eyes were dark, and just now darkening with 
 thoughts that surged up to her lips for expres- 
 sion; but Agnes was a girl of action rather than 
 words. What do those eyes see as they gaze 
 immovably ? 
 
 The grain was waving almost up to the door- 
 step. Hiram Weeks did not believe in any 
 waste land. Here was one of the places "where 
 
 ;|. 
 
 
 ,M, 
 
 
 h 
 
28 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 he saved his wife's strength. He did not see 
 any sense in women wasting their time over 
 flowers, and wearing themselves out for nothing. 
 His daughter preferred the waving grain and, 
 later, the clean stubble, to the wretchedly neg- 
 lected front yards of the neighbors. The latter 
 reminded her of Hillsdale's graveyard. 
 
 To-day was the twenty-first anniversary of 
 her birth. No one but herself noted this fact. 
 Her father constantly reminded his family that 
 in four years Henry would be of age, and they 
 must get his hundred acres out of debt. It may 
 be this objective aim, this zenith of desire and 
 effort by the acknowledged perversity of human 
 nature, had driven Agnes to a subjective nadir. 
 She was not jealous of her brother. He was her 
 idol. In their repressed childhood she had fre- 
 quently been charged with idleness, wastefulness, 
 and general good-for-nothingness by the sur- 
 reptitious manufacture of balls, fishhooks and 
 numberless gimcracks for little Harry. Once 
 she succeeded in framing and flying a kite, al- 
 though it took days to secure enough of the 
 coveted twine to fly it. 
 
 To-night, as the red globe seemed to rest upon 
 the western landscape and shoot crimson rays 
 slantingly eastward, she had a reason for asking 
 herself why it was that her outlook was so 
 
A HEROINE S REVERIE. 
 
 29 
 
 different from that of her brother's. She re- 
 membered reading somewhere that the birth of 
 a daughter was considered a calamity in China. 
 The Chinese are heathen, and Hiram was sup- 
 posed to be a Christian ; yet in bitterness of 
 soul his daughter recollected him saying fre- 
 quently how disappointed he was when she was 
 born. Just yesterday she overheard Barnes, the 
 farm hand, telling her mother about his wonder- 
 ful new baby, and he added, using the doctor's 
 exact words : " It's a boy, too. I be better off 
 than master, I be. I've two boys, and he has 
 only one, and a gal." With unusual gaiety, Mrs. 
 Weeks replied she preferred one-sixth of a dozen 
 assorted. 
 
 Christian civilization is strongly tainted with 
 the pernicious prejudices of heathendom. All 
 around Agnes lived country girls who were 
 helping to provide, in some instances, half a 
 dozen able-bodied brothers with a hundred-acre 
 farm apiece. Their share in case of marriage is 
 a cow, some quilts and a feather bed. If, how- 
 ever, there has been a drought, or too much 
 rain, they cannot reasonably expect a cow. 
 When father dies he remembers them with fifty 
 or a hundred dollars each. On the division of 
 one such estate the brothers suggested to the 
 sisters that, as the male part of the family had 
 
 : i^ I. 
 
 ill 
 
 ■ >>3 
 
 '<•! 
 
30 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 SO many taxes to pay, and the girls' shares being 
 too small to be missed, the best thing the girls 
 could do with their money was to club together 
 and put up a monument in loving remembrance 
 of father. 
 
 One of those lucky sons entered the Christian 
 ministry. During a visit to his native village 
 he delivered an eloquent discourse from the text, 
 " Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, 
 whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things 
 are just, whatsoever things are lovely, what- 
 soever things are of good report, if there be any 
 virtue and if there be any praise think on 
 these things. Those things which ye have both 
 learned and received and heard and seen in me 
 do, and the God of peace shall be with you." 
 The right hand was used in impressive gesticu- 
 lation. To the lively imagination of Agnes the 
 left one behind him grasped the mammon of 
 unrighteousness. Would not a well-poised per- 
 sonality, with blood rather than ice water 
 coursing through the veins, find itself uneasy 
 in such a foreign environment? 
 
 Weaker minds than that of Agnes, in similar 
 surroundings, have assiduously cultivated a sub- 
 •^^tratum of morbidness, and have spent the rest 
 of 'ife eating the bitter fruit that ripens on the 
 iTees of envy, revenge and hate. 
 
A HEROINE S REVERIE. 
 
 31 
 
 True greatness grips the hand and looks into 
 the ominous face of adverse circumstances until 
 they become friends. 
 
 The seemingly cruel chisel of unkindly influ- 
 ences is at work on Agnes's responsive character. 
 Will the result be a moral muscle of superb 
 fibre and proportion, or will the quality prove 
 to be refractory and unworthy of the sculptor's 
 tool? 
 
 i 
 
•mm 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A PROPOSAL. 
 
 Now what were those saddening reflections 
 that engrossed the mind of Agnes and churned 
 her brain on that summer evening. Nature 
 was already fulfilling the promises of spring. 
 The consciousness of this young girl realized 
 powers lying dormant, powers which she feared 
 would never blossom into summer nor bear an 
 autumnal harvest. 
 
 A conversation with her mother, between the 
 washing of the dinner dishes and the prepara- 
 tions for the early tea, had brought her face to 
 face with an altogether new and totally depress- 
 ing view of life. With the hope of relaxing the 
 tired lines around her mother's mouth and eyes 
 into a smile, Agnes had related to her what she 
 declared to be the only bit of real fun that had 
 ever come into her life. 
 
 "Mother, what do you think happened last 
 evening ? " Mrs. Weeks was too weary for any 
 display of curiosity further thai^ an expectant 
 
A PROPOSAL. 
 
 33 
 
 look. Upon this slight encouragement Agnes 
 proceeded : " When I was coming home from 
 the store Billy Watson overtook me and invited 
 me to ride. The basket was heavy, and I was 
 tired with carrying down the butter and eggs, 
 so I thanked him and got into the crazy old 
 hurdy-gurdy of a buggj^. Billy seemed to be 
 gazing into the basket to find, if possible, a theme 
 of conversation, and at last remarked : * I'm 
 thinking you do be thrifty folk at your house. 
 A pound of tea would do you a year, with leav- 
 ings.' I felt my cheeks burning, and bit my lips 
 to keep from saying, ' You impudent old thing ! 
 What is it your business whether we drink one 
 pound or twenty pounds in a year ? ' However, 
 I never said a word, and in the long, uncertain 
 pause which followed I amused myself by 
 watching the fantastic shadows cast by the 
 pines as they were moving in the wind. 
 
 " Presently a cloud crossed the moon. Billy 
 cleared his throat and squeaked out, * Agnes, I 
 reckon I may drive you home and sit up with 
 you.' At first, mother, I did not realize what 
 he meant, but when his meaning dawned upon 
 me I shrieked with laughter. I just managed 
 to say, * No, thank you, Mr. Watson, I do not 
 need your services,' and then went off into 
 another fit of laughter. When the moon shone 
 3 
 
 
 .fM 
 
34 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 out again, I caught sight of the old face of the 
 mountain, and whether you believe it or not, 
 mother, it was laughing in the moonlight. When 
 we arrived at his gate he stopped, and there was 
 no choice but to climb out and trudge the rest 
 of the way with my basket." 
 
 Mrs. Weeks did not even smile ; but, rather, 
 there seemed to be tears gathering in her eyes. 
 Billy Watson, in the vernacular of Hillsdale, had 
 proposed marriage to Agnes. This proposal was 
 not so much of a surprise to Mrs. Weeks as it 
 had been to her daughter. Latterly, her husband 
 had frequently referred to neighbor Watson as 
 being well fixed, as possessing one of the best 
 farms in the township, and from Hiram's point 
 of view, therefore, the chief requisites for a 
 husband were to be found in Billy. Was he not 
 old, and had he not money to leave behind him ? 
 The two men had come to a tacit understanding 
 that Agnes was to be Watson's wife. During 
 her absence at the store, Hiram had communi- 
 cated to his wife the scheme he had in his mind 
 for his daughter's future. He commenced by 
 announcing his intention of making his will. " I 
 think, mother, you ought to be satisfied and 
 would be well done for with a room or two in 
 Henry's house, and fifty dollars a year. As a 
 matter of course it is more than any woman 
 
A PROPOSAL. 
 
 35 
 
 should spend on herself in a year ; but I suppose 
 you will want that much. Then I have been 
 thinking that it would be a pity, an awful pity, 
 to split up the land. Two hundred acres all 
 together will look dreadful pretty in a deed, so 
 I think I shall give the farms to Henry, and 
 give Agnes her share in money. If she gets 
 Watson, a hundred dollars will be all she will 
 need, and more too. Watson has grown into 
 property just wonderful." 
 
 Hiram did not entertain for a moment the 
 thought of leaving his earthly possessions, but 
 he wished to clinch Billy's suit, and felt elated 
 over his deep-laid plan to force mother and 
 daughter into a ready compliance with his 
 insatiable greed. 
 
 "What are you talking about, Hiram Weeks? " 
 asked his wife, who up to this point had been 
 almost uninterested in the conversation. 
 
 " Watson wants Agnes to marry him, and she 
 would be a fool to refuse him." 
 
 " What Watson, Hiram ? " 
 
 « * What Watson, Hiram ! ' ' What Watson ? ' 
 Well, I never heard the like ! ' What Watson ? ' 
 Why, Billy Watson, of course; our neighbor, 
 William Watson." 
 
 Mrs. Weeks rose. All the motherhood in her 
 nature was aroused. With a searching look 
 
 I 
 
 li?:'.!! 
 
 . 
 
 :: . • 
 
 F 
 
 1 ' " ' " ' 
 
 
 J ,:'^| 
 
 5' :■ 
 
 Kt' ' 'V' 
 
 !■ 
 
 ■ ' '*■ '4 
 
 1 
 
 1 '■-!'''i'' 
 
 4' < 
 
 f ; ^ ' ' * 
 
 t, 
 
 4 ■ i' '•/'' 
 
 m 
 
 mi. 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 
36 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 fiiiii 
 
 I I 
 
 that would have found the hiding place of her 
 husband's heart had there been any such article 
 to hide, she said sadly : " Has it come to this, 
 husband, that you are ready and anxious to sell 
 even Agnes for gold ? " She left him with his 
 thoughts. 
 
 When the news reached Agnes, it had been 
 translated from the barbarian into the softening 
 idioms of mother language. The sting of in- 
 justice and the gnawing of greed might be 
 deadened somewhat, but could not be paralyzed 
 by any such gentle means. 
 
 Agnes was face to face with a crisis in her 
 life. She did not consider Watson's proposal a 
 moment, but what was the alternative ? Was 
 it to spend her youth in thankless drudgery, 
 and finally to be cast up on the shores of old age 
 among the wreckage of useless spinsterhood ? 
 Was her mother, also, to spend her last days 
 beside a cheerless hearth, whose very warmth 
 chilled because her presence was not desired ? 
 
 " No ! no ! a thousand times no ! " she said 
 aloud, to this menacing survey of the future. 
 " For mother's sake I will attempt, and I will 
 succeed." 
 
 Her very ignorance of the world was her 
 saviour. The necessities of life did not haunt 
 her as an empty socketted and bloodless spectre, 
 
A PROPOSAL. 
 
 37 
 
 seeking to hold her in its rieshless, bony grip. 
 Such visions are bred in the squalid corners of 
 the city attic, the slums, the tenements, where 
 herd the submerged populations of this restlet,s 
 planet. They stalk in dark alleys, and peep 
 through the luxurious curtains of uncertain 
 opulence. The reach of sky and air and field 
 and substance surrounding Agnes prevented 
 any baneful whisperings from the grinning, 
 ghastly jaws of the skeleton Want. 
 
 She had, however, looked squarely into the 
 face of that hydra of cruel injustice, which is 
 supposed to lurk only in the Christless nations, 
 and as she looked not a muscle moved. That 
 hideous body rears its multiplied head in every 
 land, seeking its victims amongst the weak and 
 defenceless, who tremble and cower before its 
 hot breath and infernal gaze. 
 
 Hiram needed no nicely-adjusted balances to 
 decide what were the righteous claims of his son 
 and daughter upon his love and substance. The 
 specific gravity of those claims was decided by 
 the standard of sex. Alas for Agnes ! woman- 
 hood in America inherits too often the legacies 
 of fiendish, heathen injustice which is meted out 
 to her sisters in China and India. All these 
 forces, which tended to write this young life in 
 the untranslatable characters of fate, slowly but 
 
 
 !• .\i .41' 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
38 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 surely crystallized in her a resolve to snatch the 
 pen from the hand of destiny, and painfully, 
 bloodily, if necessary, write into that life a 
 purpose to which her efforts would be as con- 
 stant as the magnetic needle to the pole. She 
 resolved thoughtfully and without undue haste. 
 She acted promptly. 
 
 The evening had long ago kissed the flowers, 
 the birds and bees to sleep, and slipped away 
 unnoticed, like a light-footed nurse. Old mother 
 Earth had rolled her tired children over into the 
 kindly shades of night, and was soothing them 
 into forgetfulness by the drowsy hum of her 
 myriad insect chorus. 
 
 Agnes arose. There was nothing to indicate 
 that a crucial point in her life had been passed. 
 The old clock ticked away, loud and self-assertive 
 as it always had done, in the silence of the house. 
 It might have been reflecting on Hiram by the 
 unceasing prosecution of its vocation in life. 
 Tabby, the cat, was purring contentedly on her 
 appointed cushion, and the deep, even breathing 
 of the sleeping members of the household could 
 be heard on all sides. All the surroundings 
 w^ore familiar, yet Agnes realized a newness of 
 life that was not unpleasant. Before sleep closed 
 her eyes that night she wrote a letter and 
 addressed it to a distant city. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BILLY WATSON. 
 
 Agnes had taken Watson's attention through 
 many trifling circumstances. This quiet dark- 
 eyed girl had never joined in the general laugh 
 which his appearance always provoked. Hiram 
 declared, for his part, he did not see any sense in 
 the girls everlastingly giggling when Watson 
 was in sight. It was not to be taken as an un- 
 failing sign of great irreverence in the younger 
 portion of the Sabbath congregation because 
 Billy's arrival was too much for the feminine 
 risibility of Hillsdale. His small figure was 
 clad in a suit whose texture had been chosen 
 with an eye to final perseverance. There was a 
 vague suspicion that this suit was of the piece 
 woven for the Israelites ere they departed for 
 their forty years' sojourn in the wilderness, in 
 which their garments waxed not old. Many of 
 the particulars in the fashioning of the garments 
 are shrouded in 'mystery. Jerusha Wells, in the 
 days of her youth, had cut them from a pattern 
 
 ' ■' .-'M^ 
 
 ■«■■■'?" 
 
r^fmm 
 
 40 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 of her own designing. This pattern was kept 
 under lock and key, except when Jerusha herself 
 used it behind bolted doors. It was 8 racle of 
 contraction and expansion, as it ser i for the 
 long and short, the stout and slight. 
 
 Mary Jane Parr had had the audacity to ask 
 for the loan of the pattern when she was trans- 
 ferring her eldest from petticoats into the habili- 
 ments of manhood. Jerusha was universally 
 voted hard-hearted and totally devoid of the 
 milk of human kindness because she labelled the 
 trousers coat-sleeve, and the coat-sleeve trousers. 
 Little Jimmy could no more adjust himself com- 
 fortably to his new surroundings than a human 
 being could to the trailing garments and palm of 
 an angel. Billy had given Jerusha but one in- 
 junction in regard to the suit, but the injunc- 
 tion was absolute. She was to cut the clothes 
 according to the cloth — no more, no less. 
 
 Jerusha's versatility supplied her with the 
 shears of economy, for which she atoned by the 
 extravagant v^olubility with which she attacked 
 the weakness of mankind in general, and Billy's 
 in particular. Jerusha was now in old age and 
 decrepitude. Her hand had lost its cunning, 
 but her tongue did not cleave to the roof of her 
 mouth. Even Hillsdale was too progressive for 
 her. In these times, she said, men are leaving 
 
 ii'lii- 
 
BILLY WATSON. 
 
 41 
 
 the sphere allotted to them by nature, and are 
 taking the bread out of the mouths of poor, lone 
 women by their sewing, washing, baking, and 
 ironing. Meanwhile the snow and sunshine of 
 the passing years had faded and shrunk Billy's 
 suit ; but Billy had shown great adaptation to 
 such trivial nnd passing occurrences by fading 
 and shrinking with his clothes. 
 
 The antiquated effect of his appearance was 
 further heightened by the historic bowl-cut of 
 his hair. This particular fashion of wearing the 
 hair was not an inspiration of a tonsorial artist, 
 nor is it named after one of earth's great ones. 
 Alas for such travesties on human greatness ! 
 Many wore the Garibaldi garment who did not 
 know to what corner of the world or to what 
 age Garibaldi, the patriot, belonged. The bowl 
 cut was the ingenuity of expediency. 
 
 The good wife, in order to describe a circle 
 without the aid of compasses on the unshorn 
 locks of her husband, balances on his head a 
 bowl of proper dimensions, and forthwith pro- 
 ceeds to cut, with a vigilant eye for the safety 
 of her household effects rather than the comfort 
 of the quivering human flesh, into which the 
 general purpose shears are alternately sticking 
 or pulling the hair out by the roots. 
 
 Many persons had performed this function 
 
 am 
 
 I <<? 
 
 
 i! 
 
mm^^ 
 
 42 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 .iiiiiiiii 
 
 'iiiip 
 
 
 for Billy in the most kindly manner. The re- 
 sult resembled the appearance of an object 
 attacked by rodents. 
 
 Although Billy was a crocliety old bachelor, 
 he had an inseparable companion. It was a 
 snuff-box. One pinch, two pinches and a pro- 
 longed inhalation, taken from the palm of his 
 hand, made a comma, colon, or period in his con- 
 versation. Billy, withal, mistook himself for a 
 Christian. SnufF- taking was always an accom- 
 paniment to the relation of his religious ex- 
 perience. His manner of punctuating and em- 
 phasizing it with snufF was truly artistic. 
 
 " I am " — this ocular and offensive fact no one 
 disputed, while he took his pinch of snuff — 
 " still enjoying " — two pinches of snuff — *' many 
 tribulations." A deep and long inhalation solved 
 one problem of transportation, as a mound of 
 snuff disappeared. "I am still trusting the 
 Lord " — comma, " but He can't trust me " — colon 
 (with a whine) — " He tethers me short." At this 
 point snuff-box and hand are plunged into the 
 pocket to make sure that what he is about to 
 add is true. " K ever I am thankful for any- 
 thing it is because religion is free. We can get 
 it without money and without price." An ex- 
 pression of supreme satisfaction now stole over 
 his pinched and miserly features, caused partly 
 
 I 
 
BILLY WATSON. 
 
 43 
 
 by the effects of the snufF, and partly by the 
 knowledge that religion had never cost him one 
 cent. 
 
 Billy's religion consisted in " feelin' good in 
 meetin'." Religion, as a principle dominating 
 the life ; the main spring of action, controlling 
 every motive and thought, and bringing all into 
 harmony with the Divine purpose, regardless 
 alike of feeling, or time, or place, was a concep- 
 tion and experience foreign to this man. He 
 looked upon religion as a fire-proof safe, rather 
 cumbersome, to be sure, but quite necessary to 
 have near at hand against the hour of danger. 
 This, then, was the man who was to wed Agnes. 
 Think, then, of the self-abnegation necessary in 
 this woman to wed such a man. She had a 
 wing for the tempest and an eye for the sun. 
 She would have had to crawl through life in the 
 slimy trail of an earth-worm. 
 
 " Thou art married to a clown, 
 
 And the grossness of his nature 
 Will have weight to drag thee down." 
 
 
 . ! 
 
 
 ( r Pi 
 
 <,'-'•« (III 
 
rnyw 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 HENBY WEEKS. 
 
 Henry V/ei'Kb nt \he age of seventeen, was a 
 great dJsappo'ACii.oi t to his father. He should 
 have boeu shepdy u ' ard-handed, sunburnt, 
 stalwart tiller of i'i6 so-. ; ^vt the stubborn fact 
 that he exhibited all-rouna weakness could not 
 be concealed. 
 
 " Jest like his mother ! Jest like his mother ! 
 I may have to make a teacher or preacher of 
 that boy yit," Hiram muttered disconsolately 
 many times a day. 
 
 Unfortunately, Henry exhibited neither apti- 
 tude nor inclination for either of those vocations. 
 He had as strong an aversion to working with 
 his brains as he had to exercising his muscles. 
 His mother excused his general inertia on purely 
 physical grounds, but the real lack was the lack 
 of will power. Many a frail body holds the 
 glowing torch of a strong will to light the way 
 to great achievement. 
 
 Henry was a weakling. The world proposes, 
 
HENRY WEEKS. 
 
 45 
 
 by the survival of the fittest, to crush him. The 
 mercy of God and mother's love alone make 
 provision for the weak. If Henry's mother had 
 succeeded in her endeavor to shut out tempta- 
 tion to vice, and to shut in virtue, he would 
 have had a fair chance to overcome his inherent 
 weakness. She did not succeed, because the 
 atmosphere surrounding her home could not be 
 excluded. A sewer without was casting up its 
 noxious gases loaded with deadly poison, and 
 the insidious eneiry found an easy victim in 
 Henry. 
 
 Christian civilization boasts it has no altars 
 for human sacrifice; no Ganges whose waves 
 engulf the ofiering of innocency ; no Jugger- 
 naut splashed with human blood. It is but an 
 idle boast. In every city, village, and at many 
 a cross-road, stand human slaughter-houses, 
 shambles saturated with the gore of sons and 
 fathers. So numerous are they no one is put to 
 the inconvenience of making a pilgrimage to 
 present his offering. The god who demands 
 this frightful sacrifice was once called Bacchus. 
 That ancient time was the time of the barbar- 
 ians. His modern name is Revenue. His exact 
 name is Greed. Christian citizens have decreed 
 that these temples shall come up to a govern- 
 mental standard of comfort and attractiveness. 
 
 ' 
 
 y-: 
 
 II 
 
71 
 
 ii! 
 
 46 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 w 
 
 They are, indeed, places of necessity. The tra- 
 veller must seek his meat and bed in the dens of 
 a monster, and within reach, easy reach, of 
 poisonous fangs which sting like an adder and 
 bite like a serpent. 
 
 The god of the heathen, cruel and vindictive, 
 was satisfied with the writhing body ; but this 
 divinity demands that to the tortured body be 
 subjoined a soul that has been dipped into the 
 dye vat of dissipation until, blackened and 
 saturated, it may be past redemption. If this 
 sacrifice is necessary for revenue, and this 
 revenue absolutely necessary for the good of the 
 country, then common justice and patriotism 
 demand that, above the now dishonored graves 
 of tens of thousands slain, we raise a shaft of 
 purity pointing to the skies, inscribed in golden 
 words, " Here lie our patriot hosts, who died, 
 souls and bodies, covered with wounds, for the 
 good of this country." 
 
 On the shores of a great lake there arose, as 
 if by magic, a city. Embodied in the outlines 
 of its architecture was beauty, harmony, utility. 
 Into this city every civilized nation poured a 
 contribution of its highest achievement. It has 
 vanished, and we ask, regretfully, What was the 
 triumph of that White City ? Its triumph con- 
 sisted in the comparison instituted between the 
 
il^'l 
 
 HENRY WEEKS. 
 
 47 
 
 past, and not only the present, but the promise 
 of the future. 
 
 Listening to the echo of the years we hear the 
 uncertain shuffling of feet. We ask, in horror, 
 what it means. History, the reverent chronicler 
 of the grave, answers : " Tramp ! tramp! tramp! 
 the boys are marching, thousands strong." 
 Marching where? " Marching down to poverty; 
 marching down to disease ; marching down to 
 bestiality ; marching down to devildom ; march- 
 ing down to drunkards' graves ; marching down 
 and through portals over which is written, 
 ' Who enter here, leave hope behind.' " Let us 
 institute a comparison between the past and the 
 promise of the future. Tramp I tramp ! tramp ! 
 the boys are marching, steady, strong, in step to 
 the music of the spheres ; up to manhood ; up to 
 competency; up to sobriety; up to Christian 
 citizenship; up to health; up to the plains of 
 intelligence ; up to the white light, where they 
 have no need of the sun ; marching up to God. 
 
 Henry already sauntered into the corner 
 tavern with a sang froid that would have graced 
 a cosmopolitan. He had likewise chosen his 
 ideals for life. They were : no work, large pay, 
 luck, good clothes, jewellery, and \fhite hands. 
 Hiram expressed great disgust at the time his 
 son wasted over the care of his teeth and finger 
 
 t i 
 
 ..\".n 
 
^'!; 
 
 48 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 nails ; but thia was nothing to be compared with 
 the discovery of the old sorrel team in a fence 
 corner, with nothing more important in hand 
 than stamping their feet, swinging their heads, 
 and switching their tails to keep the flies at a 
 respectable distance. Henry was hard by in 
 the shade of a friendly maple, enjoying a siesta, 
 and dreaming that he was employed in a bank, 
 shovelling gold with a scoop-shovel, for a con- 
 sideration of a hundred dollars a month. 
 
 On being waked out of sleep he was emphati- 
 cally reminded that the taxes, at least, must be 
 gotten out of the soil. Particular mention was 
 made of the iniquitous school tax for the village. 
 
 Summing up Henry's case, the forces against 
 him were inherent weakness, associations tend- 
 ing to make weakness weaker, and the influence 
 of a mercenary father, who was now, in Henry's 
 parlance, " the old man." Against these were 
 arrayed the loving influence of mother and 
 sister. Which will win ? 
 
if 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 VILLAGE GOSSIP. 
 
 After consultation with her mother, Agnes 
 started her letter on its journey. It was directed 
 to a cousin of her mother's, a doctor's wife. 
 Through this doctor's influence, Agnes's name 
 was entered in a certain large hospital as one of 
 its future nurses. As the summer wore away, 
 Agnes made quiet preparations for her depar- 
 ture, and for her mother's comfort. Hiram 
 received the announcement of his daughter's 
 plans in glum silence. Long ago he had learned 
 she was not easily turned aside from a purpose 
 on which she had set her heart. He had even 
 gone so far as to consent to the payment to 
 Mary Ann Simpson, a neighbor's daughter, of 
 four dollars a month, to assist Mrs. Weeks in 
 her duties. Hiram had been lastingly impressed 
 by Mary Ann's economy. At her father's bam- 
 raising, Hiram had been at his wits' end to con- 
 ceal the wry faces he was forced to make be- 
 tween each bite of rhubarb pie. As a conse- 
 
 4 
 
 mi 
 
 ■'ti 
 
 ' 'I 
 
 %i\ 
 
 
 \l'-. >, 
 
50 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 quent effect of his persistent efforts to see the 
 last of the pie, and to what dradtic length 
 economy could be carried, his teeth were set on 
 edge for a week. 
 
 When the village became apprised of Agnes's 
 intention to leave Hillsdale, there was universal 
 indignation on all sides. That anyone belong- 
 ing to Hillsdale should take so momentous a step 
 without first consulting the population, singly 
 and collectively, was not only bad form, but a 
 distinct departure from the traditions of the 
 elders. The procedure was not to be tolerated 
 without the sharp rebuke of popular opinion. 
 When Hillsdale expressed its opinion in select 
 circles of twos and threes, it seemed to have a 
 very poor opinion of itself. Sodom was to be 
 desired in comparison, inasmuch as there were 
 none righteous in Hillsdale, no, not one. 
 
 Mrs. Blodgett, who had been flying a signal of 
 distress for many years from the back of her 
 bonnet, and still was getting her own bite to eat, 
 stood in some intangible way in the same rela- 
 tion to Hillsdale as a hospital does to a city. It 
 is difficult to account for the diversity of tastes 
 and pursuits distinguishing humanity, but Mrs. 
 Blodgett's particular calling was past compre- 
 hension. 
 
 She had made an exhaustive collection of all 
 
VILLAOE GOSSIP. 
 
 51 
 
 ■■.:( 
 
 the ills whose symptoms are so suggestively 
 advertised by the patent medicine man, and also 
 a job lot of erratic ones whose symptoms are so 
 indefinite as to baffle even his discriminating 
 genius. Her body served as a museum for the 
 collection, and the alacrity with which she 
 moved without injuring or destroying one of 
 them proved it to be a safe repository. Al- 
 though she was in mourning, she was compelled 
 to deny herself the wearing of black hose, 
 because they did not agree with her constitution. 
 She suffered acutely from " ulsters " in the 
 stomach, and was so delicately sensitive to 
 itmospheric change she never dare remove her 
 adjustable teeth at night, although .^ le awak- 
 ened more than once to discover them on their 
 way to join the " ulsters." In fact she was so 
 dreadful of an attack of " ammonia " she slept 
 with her spectacles on the bridge of her nose, as 
 a protection of that important feature of her 
 anatomy against draughts. Mrs. Blodgett whis- 
 pered into the alert ear of Hillsdale that, while 
 Agnes's departure was her own business, yet she 
 believed those new-fangled ways of caring for 
 the sick was a clear case of flying into the lace 
 of Providence. It was putting poor human 
 skill up against the will of the Almighty. 
 Although greatly afflicted, she never, for her 
 
 I 
 
 ; V, ; 
 
 
 :'i! 
 
i^^wrm* 
 
 52 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 part, dared to go further than boneset tea or 
 senna. 
 
 "Inscrutable Providence" was Hillsdale's popu- 
 lar name for bacteria hiding in a dishcloth, or 
 for the breaking down of an over-worked body. 
 
 While nimble tongues were speedily wearing 
 their new theme of conversation shabby and 
 threadbare, both on Sabbath and week day, 
 there were many hearts saddened by the 
 thought of Agnes's absence. There was not a 
 home of poverty in the village into which she 
 had not carried rosy-cheeked apples, or big 
 yellow pumpkins. Every sick child in those 
 homes was surer of her visits than of those of 
 the doctor. Garrulous Jerusha Wells declared 
 that the numerous members of Tim Dooley's 
 inconveniently large family had had their faces 
 washed but twice in their lives, and Agnes had 
 been the all-powerful cause on both occasions : 
 once, when they had buried their faces up to 
 their ears in a water-melon she had given them; 
 and the sight of Agnes driving out of Hillsdale 
 in her father's light wagon, with her trunk 
 behind, caused such a flood of tears their faces 
 were washed tolerably clean. In the meantime, 
 from a thread to a shoe-latchet, in Agnes's small 
 preparations nothing escaped the vigilance of 
 Hillsdale. 
 
VILLAGE GOSSIP. 
 
 53 
 
 Agnes only smiled tolerantly, and a little 
 sadly, over this exhibition of interest, for she 
 loved Hillsdale, in spite ci its little idiosyn- 
 cracies. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DRAMA IN A RAILROAD COACH. 
 
 Number 12 carried Agnes towards a strange 
 city and a new life. Columbus, starting on 
 his great voyage of discovery, had no heavier 
 drain on his imagination, as to his future ex- 
 ploits, than had Agnes, starting out of the 
 narrow circle in which she had been born to 
 join in the great stream flowing cityward. The 
 noise of the train, the strange faces coming and 
 going, the unfamiliar landscapes flying past 
 without any visible means of locomotion, were 
 to this country girl like the tantalizing phan- 
 tasms of a dream, that snap their fingers in the 
 face of reason. 
 
 The constantly changing combinations of the 
 kaleidoscopic scenes passing before her eyes 
 eluded every attempt of her bewildered brain at 
 reconstruction. 
 
 Her mother's kiss, the tears in Henry's eyes, 
 and her father's unconcerned handshake, re- 
 mained with her as the realities. She never 
 

 DRAMA IN A RAILROAD COACH. 
 
 55 
 
 knew why it was she saw so vividly a certain 
 empty nest out of which she had seen the little 
 birds tumbling. She remembered the pathetic- 
 ally funny little attempts at flying. She heard, 
 ^oo, the shrill cries of alarm, and the mother 
 bird's answer of encouragement. Just here she 
 held up a paper as a screen against curious eyes, 
 and made vain efforts to keep back the tears 
 that would well up to her eyes and hang in 
 pearly drops on her downcast lashes. 
 
 On the train rushed, and to Agnes's excited 
 imagination the engine stopped but to take 
 breath, and while its heavy panting throbbed 
 through all the train, the passengers took the 
 opportunity to crowd out ; and others were still 
 more anxious to get their vacated seats before 
 the engine had filled its mighty lungs and was 
 off again. On and on it rushed. Out of the 
 heterogeneous noises around her, Agnes caught 
 some words as distinctly as if they had been 
 hissed into her ear purposely. Her seat was 
 near the door, and what she heard was the 
 soliloquy of the newsboy : " See them shake 
 
 their heads before I get near them. They 
 
 might at least wait until I get to them." It 
 was as if the door of hell had swung open sud- 
 denly and given her a glimpse of the infernal 
 struggle for existence. The next time he passed 
 
 f 
 
 1% 
 
 • cm 
 
 

 ™l!!|!; ,. 
 
 56 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 she took out her slender purse and purchased a 
 book. Job's captivity was turned when he 
 prayed for his friends, and Agnes's sympathy for 
 another carried her safely out of the bondage of 
 self pity. Her eyes were opened to see the real 
 drama of life with which she was surrounded. 
 
 Right across from her was a couple bearing 
 the unmistakable marks of the newly-wedded, 
 and perfectly dead to observation, comment, or 
 anything else but their own blissful existence. 
 
 Behind them sat an elderly w^oman whose 
 deep mourning was as noonday light compared 
 with the overshadowing grief upon the stricken 
 face. She hardly seemed to be conscious of the 
 presence of the sleeping infant on her knee. 
 Agnes surmised her eyes saw but the dead face 
 of a daughter, framed in the outlines of a casket. 
 
 In front of Agnes sat a fretful-looking woman 
 and a timid-acting little boy. His small hands 
 were burdened with a large bouquet. He received 
 oft-repeated injunctions not to vary the upright 
 position of the bouquet a hair's breadth, for fear 
 he might crush the flowers. Agnes saw the 
 tired little muscles were strained to accomplish 
 the task set for them. Presently, a plaintive, 
 almost baby voice, asked for a drink of water. 
 ** You are never satisfied ; you are always 
 wanting something," the mother petulantly 
 
ill 
 
 DRAMA IN A RAILROAD COACH. 
 
 57 
 
 exclaimed, as she took her precious flowers 
 and sent the child to get a drink. But the 
 weak fingers could not manage the tap, and the 
 mother had to give unwilling assistance. Com- 
 ing back to their seats, the boy pleaded for a 
 seat next the window ; but he was rudely put in 
 his former place, given the flowers, and again 
 reminded that he was never satisfied ; that he 
 was always wanting something. After some 
 weary moments, one hand relaxed its hold, 
 sought and found in a pocket a card ; then it 
 furtively stole up to his little cap, and imi_ 
 tatively, but unsuccessfully, tried to adjust it in 
 the band. A kindly voice from an adjoining 
 seat asked the little fellow to come over. The 
 mother glanced at the exceedingly pleasant 
 face of the owner of the voice, and said, politely 
 enough now, " He is never satisfied ; he is 
 always wanting something." " Just like the 
 rest of us," the lady laughingly rejoined, as she 
 relieved the boy of the flowers and lifted him 
 up next to the window, putting his ticket into 
 his cap. 
 
 Another incident, showing a pleasant contrast, 
 was a mother, whose garments bespoke the 
 lower walks of life, holding over her shoulder, in 
 a pose to exhibit to the best advantage, a round- 
 faced baby, with no nose to speak of, and a 
 
 If..: m 
 
 
58 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 prodigious good-natured "goo-gooing" mouth. 
 In the mother's gratified expression could be 
 seen the firm belief that the coach was full of 
 open-mouthed observers, looking with wonder 
 and admiration at the baby's dazzling beauty. 
 On and on and on the train rushed, as if 
 racing for a goal. Agnes had the uneasy feeling 
 of the occasional traveller, that at any moment it 
 might leap the brink of an awful precipice. 
 She realized a sense of rescue from danger when 
 the train finally halted in seeming pandemonium 
 under the vaulted roof of a large depot. She 
 allowed herself to be carried with a crowd 
 which seemed to have a common aim, and dis- 
 covered it was concentrating its efforts to 
 squeeze through a large iron gafce in an in- 
 finitesimal fraction of time, as if success or 
 failure in doing so were a matter of life and 
 death. It was well for Agnes that an experi- 
 enced eye was watching for the bewildered 
 country girl. A lady, with quiet dignity of 
 face and manner, touched her arm, and asked if 
 she were Miss Weeks, of Hillsdale. It was Mrs. 
 Bruce, Mrs. Weeks' cousin, who, when her sur- 
 misal proved correct, imprinted on Agnes's fair 
 cheek a kiss of true kinship. The sickening 
 load of lonesomeness which sat so heavily on 
 Agnes* young heart was lifted. 
 
DRAMA IN A RAILROAD COACH. 
 
 59 
 
 To Agnes the brilliantly illuminated streets 
 through which the street-car was carrying 
 her were beginning to appear endless. Then the 
 car stopped opposite a street, at the end of 
 which stood a large handsome building. It 
 quite took her breath away when she discovered 
 that this was her destination. As she was 
 carried up three or four stories by a noiseless 
 elevator, she realized that she was indeed in a 
 new world. 
 
 The next morning she gratefully received 
 instructions to rest for one day before com- 
 mencing her duties. She wrote a long letter to 
 her mother, and employed herself the rest of the 
 day in learning the names and observing the 
 uses of many unfamiliar objects. Early in the 
 evening she sank into the light, restful slumber 
 which accompanies strength of body and health 
 of mind. 
 
 'mm 
 
 ■y- .HS.- 
 
 t .'1 
 
 'l&ri 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 iiii! 
 
 m 
 
 AGNES' S INITIATION IN A HOSPITAL, 
 
 When Agnes had been duly initiated into the 
 hospital routine, she sent the following letter 
 home : 
 
 "Dear Mother, — You will be anxiously 
 awaiting some news from your runaway. I am 
 here, and am determined to stay, although I am 
 convinced that life in the country could be made 
 infinitely more enjoyable than life in a city. 
 You will want to know all the particulars, and 
 I will begin with the rising bell, which rings at 
 six ; but I am up long before that hour, thanks 
 to my years of apprenticeship. 
 
 " Forty minutes after, we leave our dormitory 
 and cross the yard to the hospital, where we 
 have all our meals, and we are not allowed to 
 return to the dormitory until off duty. I always 
 feel as though I had forgotten something when 
 I go out in the morning, because I know I can't 
 come back. 
 
 " We repair at once to the diet kitchen, where 
 we have a cup of hot coffee or milk, and a piece 
 of bread and butter, before going to our respec- 
 
 
AONESS INITIATION IN A HOSPITAL. 
 
 61 
 
 tive wards. By the way, mother, do not worry 
 about me not getting enough wholesome food to 
 eat in the city. The food is excellent. For tea 
 last night we had cold roast beef, salmon gar- 
 nished with lemon, potato salad, brown and white 
 bread, butter, fruit, cake, tea and milk. I drink 
 two glasses of milk for both breakfast and tea 
 — and it is good, too. We have to be on duty 
 at five minutes to seven. 
 
 " My first duty upon entering the ward is to 
 fill the pitcher in the doctor's stand ; my next is 
 to carry the empty bottles used for holding car- 
 bolic acid, bichloride of mercury solutions, dis- 
 tilled water, etc., from the lavatory to the cabi- 
 net near the door, so as to be convenient for the 
 office-boy. By this time the patients' breakfast 
 bell has rung, and off I trot to the pantry to 
 assist in filling and carrying trays. When that is 
 over I list the clothes which were used in the 
 ward the day before. They are washed every 
 day by a machine. I have usually about thirty 
 sheets, fifty towels, some pillow-slips, counter- 
 panes, bibs, etc., to take out of a large basket, 
 count, enter on a list and put into a bag. 
 
 " We are allowed half an hour for each meal, 
 two hours off duty each day, three on Sunday, 
 and a half day each week. All the nurses, of 
 course, cannot leave the wards at once, so there 
 are two tables for each meal. I get my break- 
 fast at eight. Upon returning to the ward after 
 breakfast, I make beds, wash and carbolize the 
 dishes and rubbers which have been used in the 
 dressings, make the lavatory shine, give baths, 
 
 ? -fa:! 
 
62 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 'i^-'- ■ ':ll| 
 
 •T'' 
 
 comb hair, or do whatever is required and in 
 my power. 
 
 " Of course, there are a great many interrup- 
 tions by the way of attending to the patients' 
 individual wants. During the day, as I find 
 time, I am expected to dust the ward, which is 
 done with a cloth wet in a irolution of carbolic 
 acid. The bedsteads are of iron, and have to be 
 wiped all over, also the window sills, chairs and 
 tables. On Thursday'' everything has to get, as 
 we girls express it, * an extra lick,' as on that 
 day the Presidential Committee make a tour of 
 investigation, and put their fingers in all out-of- 
 the-way places, seeking for dust. We are well 
 superintended by officials in authority. There 
 is the superintendent of nursing and her assistant, 
 the afore-mentioned committee, the Executive 
 Committee, the Monthly Visiting Committee, 
 six or seven doctors, the hospital housekeeper, 
 and the matron of the dormitory. 
 
 " The Bible says, * No man can serve two 
 masters, for either he will hate the one rnd 
 love the other, or else he will hold to the one 
 and despise the other.' This is a more perplex- 
 ing service. Miss Jenby, the superintendent of 
 nursing, is the one who strikes terror into the 
 hearts of ' the probs,' as we are irreverently 
 called. She seems very stern and forbidding at 
 first, but improves upon acquaintance, and 1 am 
 beginning to think she really may have a heart, 
 although she does not by any means wear it 
 upon her sleeve. I felt as though she might 
 dismiss me at any moment she got her eyes on 
 
AGNESS INITIATION IN A HOSPITAL. 
 
 63 
 
 me. To be called for a short examination into 
 the august presence of Miss Jenby, the sight of 
 whom makes the chills run down one's spinal 
 column, is, to say the least, very trying. 
 
 "Besides officials, patients, nurses, there are 
 in the hospital orderlies, to help care for the 
 male patients, dining-room girls, cooks, laundry 
 men and women to mop floors and wash dishes. 
 The ward floors are swept twice and washed 
 once a day. If I am accepted at the end of the 
 month, I will be provided with two dresses, four 
 aprons, four pairs of sleeves, and two caps ; but 
 more are required, and I will have to make a 
 small outlay on my own account. The caps are 
 muslin, and not washable, and I will have to 
 provide myself with the subsequent ones, be- 
 sides buying my books. I have also discovered 
 that the acceptance at the end of the first month 
 is only provisional, and at the end of three 
 months there will be an accepting or rejecting 
 again. I have had to have the heels of my 
 boots furnished with rubber heels. Many of 
 the girls get foot-sore, but, mother mine, they 
 have not had the training I have had. 
 
 " Now, mother, do not forget to remember me 
 to our village celebrities, Sally Jenkins, Jerusha 
 Wells, Mrs. Blodgett, Charles Baxter — for whom 
 I have a tender spot in my heart — the old doctor, 
 and do not forget Billy Watson. Tell the min- 
 ister's wife not to make herself too popular by 
 helping the folk to paint their kitchen floors, 
 and never again cultivate their grasping spirit 
 by selling tide remains of a tea-meeting for 
 chicken feed. 
 
 . ■ i 
 ■ 111 
 
 I: 
 
 Pi 
 
 I 
 
64 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 ^'■'■'•.i^i 
 
 " Be careful of yourself, mother, dear ; better 
 times are coming. Give my love to father and 
 Harry, and ask them to think of me sometimes. 
 '* I am, your loving daughter, 
 
 " Agnes. 
 
 " P.S. — We have to be in our dormitory at 
 eight o'clock, and turn out the lights at ten." 
 
 I'^i 
 
 m 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ■'*.! 
 
 MORE HOSPITAL EXPERIENCE. 
 
 Happily for Agnes, she was inured to long 
 hours and physical endurance. Under the most 
 favorable circumstances the position of nurse is 
 no sinecure. A heavy demand is constantly 
 made on one's patience, vigilance, sympathy and 
 physical strength. Frequently a test of these 
 (jualities is made simultaneously. In no place in 
 the world can human nature show to greater 
 advantage than in a hospital, and in no other 
 place can humanity, or more properly, inhuman- 
 ity, show up all its little meannesses more despic- 
 ably. Masks not only conceal the features of 
 aofors on the mimic stage, but masks are worn 
 v' actors in the real drama of life. When they 
 
 11 from actors' faces, how hideous the linea- 
 aients of character ! 
 
 Agnes soon discovered that an hospital annual 
 
 th consideration f«r the 
 
 report 
 
 rosy 
 
 rights of hose in its employ, and in print the 
 
 4 
 
 VM 
 
 ■ .vV 
 
 M'il 
 
 h4 
 
'^mm 
 
 66 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 executive are not satisfied with anything short 
 of granting many privileges. But in some cases 
 the practice of the executive is to tread under 
 foot " regulations " which are found inexpedient, 
 to speak euphemistically ; while those below are 
 not only bound by a written code, but also by 
 an unwritten code, only discoverable by trans- 
 
 gression. 
 
 She discovered, too, that the lowest in the 
 rank of authority, as a rule, keeps that authority 
 most on parade. The Lord can forgive his 
 steward ten thousand talents, but that steward 
 plays the rdle of cut-throat, and lays violent 
 hands upon his servant, taking him by the 
 throat, saying, " Pay me that thou owest," and 
 in default of payment casts him into prison. 
 She found herself the victim sometimes of petty 
 conflict between authority and authority. Her 
 keen eye noted the distinctions between nurses 
 and nurses Some loved their work for the 
 work's sake ; others did not love it, but did it 
 conscientiously, vdth the motive of compensa- 
 tion ; and others, having an eye for the red tape 
 alone, kept the counterpanes clean, and filled in 
 the chart, but cared not one whit how their 
 patients progressed. 
 
 When Agnes had been in the hospital some 
 
MORE HOSPITAL EXPERIENCE. 
 
 67 
 
 months she wrote the following letter to her 
 mother : 
 
 "Dearest Mother, — Do not get alarmed 
 over this letter, for I intend to endure unto the 
 end. I am on night duty in a ward that keeps 
 four nurses busy during the day. It is nothing 
 but a ftantic rush from one end of the ward to 
 the other throughout the livelong night. There 
 is so much schedule and chart work to be done, 
 I really begrudge the time to give a poor 
 sufferer a drink, or to adjust a limb more com- 
 fortably. The head nurse has been candid 
 enough to tell me I am incompetent, because I 
 told her no one person on earth could perform, 
 with justice to the patients, the duties devolving 
 on me, in twelve hours. 
 
 " I am craving sympathy, and know where 
 and how to provoke it. When I go on duty I 
 take twenty or more temperatures. At twelve 
 I take the temperature of those wko are awake, 
 but at four every temperature has to be taken. 
 All this, with the medicines administered, has to 
 be faithfully recorded, and some of the columns 
 totalled, make the rounds with the doctor, and, 
 it may be, give two or three hypodermics, and 
 rub a knee for twenty minutes. The following 
 is a fair sample of the list of dressings done in 
 this ward in one night : Two dressings, three 
 times, taking one-quarter of an hour ; one very 
 particular dressing, four times, taking three- 
 quarters of an hour ; one dressing, four times, 
 occupying ten minutes, also requiring hot fomen- 
 
 
 
 ^^4 
 
 
68 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 hi! if 
 
 tationa every hour ; three more dressings, tak- 
 ing a longer or shorter time. Solutions have to 
 be heated every time for each of these dressings. 
 
 " The above, with dozens of * incidentals' that 
 I lack time to enumerate, such as filling water- 
 bottles and watching for fresh symptoms, are 
 the duties I am expected to perform faithfully. 
 
 " The ward for incurables is a sad sight. Some 
 of the patients have been here for years, waiting 
 for death to foreclose the mortgage. 
 
 " In the private wards one cannot help seeing 
 how money is pitted against death ; but victory 
 is not always on the side of wealth. I would 
 not mind looking on at operations if I felt sure 
 the result would be relief and restoration to 
 health ; but death is so often the outcome, and, 
 as far as my knowledge goes, the patients are 
 never told that the end is near. 
 
 " Last week the chief of staff said to a poor 
 fellow, * A very grave operation must be per- 
 formed within a week if life is to be saved.' 
 This is the nearest approach I have known to 
 dealing candidly with an all but hopeless case. I 
 am afraid, dear mother, this institution would 
 strike you as a godless one, so little provision is 
 made for the religious welfare of anyone con- 
 cerned. 
 
 " I must tell you, before closing my letter, of 
 an experience I had when on special duty. We 
 had here what was once a woman, but is now 
 known as a cigarette fiend. She became very 
 noisy, so it was decided to put a ' special ' to 
 watch her, and, unfortunately for me, I was the 
 one chosen. 
 
MORE HOSPITAL EXPERIENCE. 
 
 69 
 
 " At seven I was brought up out of the 
 ward where I had been working all day, and set 
 to the task of keeping this creature in bed. I 
 had two or three tussles with her during the 
 evening, and I record it to my honor, that if I 
 did not win first place, I came off second best. 
 She seemed to be laboring under the hallucina- 
 tion that she was a cat and I a mouse, and acted 
 accordingly. Repeatedly I had to ring for 
 assistance. 
 
 " Then it was decided to allow her to get up 
 and do as she pleased, providing she did not get 
 out of the room. She sought in every conceiv- 
 able place for cigarettes, and would twist up 
 old rags, or anything she could find, and try to 
 light them at the gas. I could not keep her in 
 the room. Finally, she was given a sleeping 
 draught. When she slept I reconnoitered, and 
 found I was minus buttons and plus bruises. I 
 was tempted to explain that I had not come to 
 go in training for the gladiatorial arena, but 
 this would have exasperated Miss Jenby. 
 
 " I have written at such a length I have no 
 time left for the usual commonplaces, but 
 believe me to be ever your happy and loving 
 daughter, 
 
 Agnes." 
 
 As a rule Agnes's arduous work was but a pre- 
 paration for her hours of sleep. She found her 
 life not only tolerable, but interesting. Her 
 quick eye noted at once every detail of niceness 
 so grateful to the sick. 
 
 M 
 
jii w^'m 
 
 I 
 
 r:i' 
 
 iliiiiib' ? 
 
 70 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 If not to the manner born, she possessed an 
 innate appreciation of the beautiful and the 
 eternal fitness of things. Her self-control, un- 
 obtrusive manner, glowing health, absolute sin- 
 cerity, and candid, unaffected sympathy, made 
 her a general favorite with officers and patients. 
 
i 
 
 i 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SOME OF HILLSDALE'S DECORATIONS. 
 
 Henry Weeks had set his heart on being a 
 clerk in a bank. He had never for a moment 
 comprehended the profound problems of finance. 
 The meaning of " sinking funds," " liabilities," 
 " reserves " and all the rest of it, which occupies 
 the minds of managers, directors and presidents, 
 Henry had never dreamed of, let alone studied. 
 He saw the outside, like the gilt letters on the 
 windows, and that was all that was necessary. 
 
 His cherished ambition might never have been 
 realized had his father opposed him strongly ; 
 but Hiram had concluded in secret that Henry 
 would make a sorry farmer. Hiram's estimate 
 of all other vocations was associated with thiev- 
 ing, idleness, pride and a long list of general 
 fraud ; yet he saw that many of those soft-fisted 
 fellows managed to get hold of the all-important 
 commodity, money. 
 
 If Henry could do likewise he would grant 
 him absolution. Hiram was always on the look- 
 
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 ^'ai 
 
 i, urn 
 
 ^ ■ 
 
 nil 
 
 f , 
 
 ■^4 
 
 ji 
 
 - 'ii 
 
 L 
 
 ■ '■'h) 1 
 
 
 ■ M 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 ^'4 
 
 
 m '''iil H 
 

 
 72 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 out to get a little of his money's worth out of 
 the minister and school teacher, and took advice 
 freely from them regarding his son's future. At 
 length, acting on their advice, he sent Henry to 
 a commercial college. Hiram was not given to 
 drawing nice disfcctions in the matter of col- 
 leges and degrees. In this he was not unique. 
 Many men knowingly trade on ignorant credul- 
 ity by prefixes and affixes representing, in the 
 main, a ten dollar note. To him colleges were 
 places where people learn a lot of stuff that is 
 of no earthly use, and are as much alike as two 
 peas. He therefore expressed a fervent hope 
 that Henry would not come back gabbling Latin 
 like a native. Henry's education in this par- 
 ticular language was limited to the demonstra- 
 tive pronoun hie I ejaculated in gutteral. 
 
 There were other changes in the home, reflect- 
 ing faintly but truly a life lying beyond the 
 environment of Hillsdale. Agnes never came 
 home without having her head packed fuller of 
 ideas than her trunk was of clothes. As far 
 back as she could remember she had been en- 
 gaged in a species of civil warfare with Hills- 
 dale's prevailing mode of house furnishing and 
 home ornamentation. Her bed was always put 
 into the parlor when she was discharging one of 
 the obligations of childhood in an attack of 
 
 Kii'' 
 
SOME OF HILLSDALE S DECORATIONS. 
 
 73 
 
 whooping-cough, chicken-pox, measles or other 
 ills in the category of infantile diseases. The 
 pattern of the wall paper haunted her through 
 life. The fevered brain persistently attempted 
 to unravel the mysteries of its complex design, 
 but only succeeded in translating it into huge 
 horned caterpillars and multiplex hideous leering 
 faces. 
 
 As for the mats on the floor, she had always 
 quarrelled with them outright. Mrs. Weeks 
 had neither time nor opportunity to study anat- 
 omy, and had merely glanced at Tabby or Collie 
 as she wrought into those mats a marvellous 
 dissimilar resemblance to them, which was only 
 saved from the conundrum, "What is it?" by 
 glassy eyes that had once served to button a 
 now cast-off garment. With evident satisfaction 
 and a hammer Agnes would pulverize those eyes, 
 while her baby tongue lisped, " Bad pussy, uggie 
 pussy, tooked pussy ; uggie, uggie doggie." 
 
 In one holiday she covered the walls with 
 paper of a soft neutral tint. Later she succeeded 
 in enlisting Hiram's purse to the extent of a car- 
 pet which had the good manners not to intrude 
 itself on one's notice by its loudness. Mrs. 
 Weeks' parlor never had boasted of the motto, 
 " Home, Sweet Home," outlined with pin-trans- 
 fixed lady bugs, nor of an unaccountable waxen 
 
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 74 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 iilii|. 
 
 combination of summer and autumn products, 
 consisting of magenta strawberries, violently 
 green apples, and colicky com. Her heart, how- 
 ever, had hung over a green parrot worked with 
 Berlin wool on a purple background, balancing 
 itself on a dead bough that, like Aaron's rod, 
 budded and blossomed quite unexpectedly with 
 impossible scarlet flowers. 
 
 Mrs, Blodgett once hinted to Mrs. Weeks that 
 it was time Agnes was acquiring some accom- 
 plishments, and urged the importance of hair 
 wreaths. "Your family is small, Mrs. Weeks, 
 and there is not much probability of your having 
 many coflBn plates to frame, and the next best 
 thing is hair wreaths." 
 
 Mrs. Blodgett was easily first in framed coffin 
 plates. No one knew which was provoked most 
 by the sight of her five coffin plates, sympathy 
 for her bereavement or jealousy of her adorn- 
 ments. To this latter feeling, and a back-slidden 
 state in religion, Mrs. Blodgett attributed the 
 ambition of Hillsdale's maidens, exhibited in 
 crude attempts to follow the beaten-brass, crazy- 
 work, china-painting and drawn-work fads, as 
 each, having " ennuied past all bearing " the 
 blase denizens of the city, rather than accept the 
 inevitable privacy of a dusty attic, beat a victori- 
 ous retreat into the Ivjss critical atmosphere of 
 Hillsdale. 
 
 iliii 
 
SOME OF HILLSDALE S DECORATIONS. 
 
 75 
 
 But Agnes, who believed " a thing of beauty 
 is a joy forever," would not have Hillsdale's 
 decorations, either ancient or medieval, nor yet 
 attempt the modern, which in ninety-nine cases 
 out of a hundred went to swell the class of 
 mediocrity. Now and again she brought home 
 with her a few choice water color copies, simply 
 framed. She took down a picture of *' Uncle 
 Tom," in blue trousers and bright red shirt; 
 also a picture of " The Journey of Life," repre- 
 sented by a babe on the first step of a double 
 set of stairs, developing into manhood with each 
 step upward, until the full stature of manhood 
 is attained at the stair head. Descending on 
 the other side, he at last passes off a decrepit old 
 man. 
 
 Another picture of a tree, upon which grew 
 many-hued circular objects, labelled apples, 
 shared the same fate. The artist, with a sub- 
 lime contempt for perspective and proportion, 
 had painted, with an impartial hand, the apples 
 of equal size and as large in circumference as the 
 trunk of the tree. Beneath the wide spreading 
 branches contended two figures representing 
 Good and Evil. 
 
 In the vacated spaces Agnes hung delightful 
 bits of sky and sea and shore. To catch her 
 father's eye was hung a picture of an old 
 
' 1 'I 
 
 il' 
 
 76 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 plough-horse with harness on. The outlines, 
 suggestive of patient faithfulness and weariness, 
 but not jadedness, and, withal, rather hopeful 
 expectancy of food, drink and rest, were in evi- 
 dence. Hiram, not being of a literary turn, nor 
 yet of a reflectively religious nature, had never 
 been favorably impressed by " Uncle Tom " or 
 " The Journey of Life," nor yet by the " Apple 
 Tree." He, however, saw the horse, and would 
 gaze at it with infinite satisfaction, and remark, 
 " It's as nat'ral, as nat'ral as life. Puts me in 
 mine of ole Bill." " Ole Bill " had been the sur- 
 viving horse of Hiram's first span. 
 
 The memory of the day when, perched on the 
 high spring seat of a brand new wagon, glitter- 
 ing with varnish on the freshly-painted wood, 
 and the splendid team in front — he was for the 
 first time owner of such an outfit — had never 
 faded from his memory. Indeed, the event 
 seemed to be ever more important. The time 
 he served on the grand jury at the Quarter 
 Sessions was only chaff" in comparison, in his 
 conversation now and again with Billy Watson. 
 
 " Ole Bill," in extreme age and decrepitude, 
 had come to the last evening of his life, and 
 was taken out of his stable into a field hard by, 
 that a grave might be dug where he would fall. 
 Next morning Barnes and Hiram looked upon 
 
SOME OF HILLSDALE S DECORATIONS. 
 
 77 
 
 a pathetic scene, which put lumps into both their 
 throats. The noble animal, with the instinct of 
 dying at home, had dragged himself to the 
 stable, worked at the door until it opened, 
 passed in, and fell just before entering his 
 stall. 
 
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 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS EVE TUAOEDY. 
 
 In due time Agnes graduated at the head of 
 her class, receiving witli her diploma a gold 
 medal. The secret of her success was hard 
 work and conscientious application. Through 
 the years which followed, she rose gradually 
 until she arrived at the position of matron, with 
 a remuneration that made Hiram open and shut 
 his eyes twice, rapidly in succession, in astonish- 
 ment. His respect for his daughter had in- 
 creased in direct ratio with the increases in her 
 salary, and now he was looking upon her as a 
 prodigy. 
 
 " It's a caution what people will pay to be 
 took care on. Some on 'em will die awful poor, 
 or I'm mistaken," he remarked to his wife on 
 receiving the news of Agnes's appointment. 
 
 Not often are " castles in Spain " reduced to 
 brick and mortar, and if they are, the architec- 
 ture is generally disappointing; but Agnes 
 
A CHRISTMAS EVE TRAGEDY. 
 
 79 
 
 almost revelled in the realization of her fondest 
 dreams. She had raised herself above a humili- 
 ating dependence, and experienced a delightful 
 satisfaction in self-reliance. 
 
 While Henry, on pretexts as variable as the 
 wind, kept up a constant demand on his father's 
 hoardings, Agnes rejoiced in adding to her 
 mother's comforts. Pleasant changes were to be 
 noted everywhere about the old farm-house. 
 Nothing was attempted which was out of keep- 
 ing with the homely life of the occupants. 
 There was a modest addition to the house, a 
 commodious fire-place to make winter a joy, and 
 a well-trimmed lawn to make summer desirable. 
 
 The world would have gone very well in 
 those days for Hiram Weeks' house but for the 
 little " if " which enters every earthly paradise, 
 as the serpent entered Eden. If only Henry's 
 life had been right. 
 
 The anniversaries of the birth and resurrec- 
 tion of the Saviour flood the world with a joy 
 that finds a universal expression in Christendom 
 in the music, painting, gifts and flowers of 
 Christmas-tide and Easter-tide. This joy has 
 found a heart even in transportation companies, 
 a heart whose eyes look toward family reunions. 
 Agnes and Henry at these anniversaries visited 
 the old homestead. 
 
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 80 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 To both of them, and to thousands, the mean- 
 ing of the word, " Welcome," is wrapped up in 
 the anticipation of seeing a dear familiar face 
 looking out from a wide open door. What a 
 boon is memory, hope and faith, when the door 
 is shut and the face is gone ! 
 
 Poor, weak-willed Henry ! His mother's 
 anxious eye saw the changes for the worse, 
 both physically and morally. If the angelic 
 hosts have interest in the struggle of Right 
 with ^V^rong, they must have hung over the 
 battlements of Heaven to witness the love of 
 mother and sister in hand-to-hand combat with 
 the embodied demon, Appetite. The little tavern 
 was more than a counter-attraction to all their 
 loving allurements. 
 
 There came a Christmas eve when Agnes 
 was making her highest bid for Henry's {com- 
 pany. It was a brave, hard-fought contest, both 
 aggressive and defensive. A bright fire blazed 
 on the hearth. Easy chairs extended inviting 
 arms. She spoke reminiscently of memories 
 suggested by the associations of the hour. She 
 reminded Henry of their mother's unfailing 
 devotion. " Don't you remember, Harry, the 
 queer Santa Claus' Noah's Ark made of boxes 
 filled with gingerbread men and bears and 
 elephants ? Hov/ strange we thought it was 
 
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 id 
 
 Is 
 
 A CHRISTMAS EVE TRAGEDY. 
 
 81 
 
 that they should taste so much like mother's 
 gingerbread ! Don't you remember how we 
 covered our heads for fear old Santa would 
 detect us in the act of listening to him popping 
 corn in the kitchen ? " 
 
 Henry looked only half interested at best, and 
 listened with the stealthy glances of one watch- 
 ing to make his escape. Agnes, accustomed to 
 human nature, saw clearly the controlling 
 thought in his mind ; but, with heavy heart, de- 
 termined to use all her resources. She thought 
 of some chestnuts she wished to roast in the 
 coals, and left the room for a moment to get 
 them. When she returned Henry was gone. 
 She saw him disappear down the snowy road in 
 the direction of the vilLage. All the joy created 
 by the Christmas reunion was suddenly exi. n- 
 guished for Agnes and her mother. Hiram, too, 
 sat downcast in the circle of firelight. As the 
 hours slowly passed, Agnes was touched by his 
 worn look and almost feeble attitude. 
 
 Midnight had approached and passed on. 
 Inaction at last became impossible. Hiram 
 started for the door, uttering something almost 
 like a groan. Ho would have gone with the 
 addition of his cap had not Agnes wrapped him 
 tenderly as she prayed silently to be forgiven 
 her sometimes bitter judgment of him. Half 
 6 
 
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 M 
 
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 82 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 way down the lane Hiram stumbled over the 
 prostrate body of his son. An hour before Henry 
 had staggered out of the village tavern in a 
 helpless state of drunkenness. Two cronies, 
 who had seen him fall just outside the bar-room 
 door, had picked him up and led him along to 
 the lane leading from the road to the farm 
 house. Drunken though they were, they, never- 
 theless, shrank from encountering the look in 
 the faces of Henry's mother and sister. When 
 Hiram, haggard faced, appeared in the doorway 
 with Henry in his arms, Agnes comprehended 
 at once the situation. 
 
 Mrs. Weeks sat as one stunned. It was 
 Agnes's strong white hands that deftly performed 
 all the needed services, without once pausing. 
 The frail life was flickering, and might have 
 gone out if the sister's skill had been lacking. 
 She fought not alone for his physical salvation, 
 but for his eternal well-being. 
 
 Mrs. Weeks had taught her children in early 
 childhood that they belonged to Christ, and that 
 nothing could separate them from Him but an 
 act, positive or negative, of their own will. She 
 had always sought to leave the stress on the 
 will, because she believed the efficiency of 
 penitence and faith hinged in there being first 
 "a willing mind." This may have been because 
 
A CHRISTMAS EVE TRAGEDY. 
 
 88 
 
 she studied her children. Agnes had a will as 
 stubborn as wrought steel, but she had early 
 learned to obey a voice which spoke to her with 
 loving but supreme authority. 
 
 Agnes had felt herself a member on sufferance 
 of Hillsdale's little church, because she could not 
 describe her conversion with the accuracy of a 
 demonstration in geometry. This accuracy of 
 detail was demanded ; but in the experiences of 
 the membership the generic fact was really the 
 essential matter, and she had never heard the 
 demand fulfilled by those who insisted strongest. 
 She had once been interviewed by her class- 
 leader, an old but quite recently married man, 
 who charged her to answer his catechising as 
 she would " answer at the dreadful day of 
 judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be 
 disclosed." She answered his questions as to the 
 place and minute of her repentance and faith in 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, and as to whether she 
 believed in backsliding or the final perseverance 
 of the saints, with the quiet assurance : " Mother 
 says the only true test of conversion is obedi- 
 ence," and followed with one of her motlier's 
 favorite promises, " Blessed arc they that do his 
 commandments, that thej^ may have right to 
 the tree of life, and may enter in through the 
 gates into the city." 
 
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84 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 At one of the leaders' meetings her case came 
 up for special discussion. Mr. Biggs reported 
 her as incorrigible, and thought she ought not 
 to be allowed church membership until she 
 exhibited more feeling. 
 
 Charlie Baxter, the jovial blacksmith, who 
 could give the minutiae of his conversion as cor- 
 rectly as he could give the history of every horse 
 in the country side, won the day for Agnes, and 
 vanquished the troubler of the church, by quoting 
 the Scripture, " By their fruits ye shall know 
 them." 
 
 Hillsdale, nevertheless, believed in special 
 times and special means, to the degree of look- 
 ing with a suspicious eye on every conversion 
 outside of special times and special means. As 
 Jerusha Wells had cut all the coats after one 
 pattern, in like manner all conversions must be 
 after one model. Perhaps this came of Hillsdale 
 putting a high premium on wickedness. The 
 further the sheep wandered away on the moun- 
 tain, the higher his pedestal on his return to the 
 fold, although he unavoidably bears to the end 
 the evidence of his poor fare while on the barren 
 mountain side. 
 
 Poor weak-willed Henry ! Hillsdale had made 
 a snare, a trap and a stumbling-block fur its 
 
A CHRISTMAS EVE TRAGEDY. 
 
 85 
 
 weak brother's feet, and then watched anxiously 
 that he might recover sufficiently before the 
 winter was over, to attend the special services. 
 The kingdom of God came to Henry, " first the 
 blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in 
 the ear." 
 
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 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WATER INTO WINE. 
 
 In the sad days and long nights following that 
 Christmas eve, Agnes and her mother sought 
 unceasingly to convert Henry's soul from the 
 error of his ways, and daily thanked God for 
 their opportunity. Repeated hemorrhages of 
 the lungs betokened, in no uncertain signs, that 
 nature had been a patient nurse, but was now 
 transformed into an avenging angel demanding 
 settlement with accounts compounded, and would 
 not be lied. Poor dissipated Henry ! How 
 is he goit .; to face death, from whose outlines 
 he has always looked away ? How is he going 
 to become so changed as to be at home in the 
 purity and holy associations of God's secret 
 abiding place ? 
 
 One February evening, when the days were 
 becoming noticeably longer, Mrs. Weeks sat by 
 his bedside. His bed had been moved into the 
 parlor, and the bright light of the fire, always 
 kept burning on the hearth, showed the glowing 
 
WATER INTO WINT.. 
 
 87 
 
 spots on his cheeks, and added another gleam to 
 the already brilliant eyes. Both had been gazing 
 in silence into the lire for some time, when 
 Henry's weak hand reached out for his mother's. 
 
 " Mother," he said, " I have some good news 
 for you at last," and then he paused; but his 
 mother did not move, she scarcely breathed. 
 " You remember how you used to talk to Agnes 
 and me about Jesus, His mission, death, the 
 Christian life. One evening, mother, you quoted 
 for us a verse from a conversation Jesus had 
 with His disciples : ' If any man will come after 
 me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and 
 follow me. For whosoever will save his life 
 shall lose it ; and whosoever will loso his life for 
 my sake shall find it.' The same evening, 
 mother, you read another passage from John's 
 Gospel : * If any man ivilleth to do his will, he 
 shall know of the teaching, whether it be of God, 
 or whether I speak from myself.' I have dreaded 
 death with unspeakable horror, and more espe- 
 cially because, in my case, it is the wages of sin. 
 Don't cry, precious mother, for I am now willing 
 to live or die, but would rather die than go back 
 to the old lifo." 
 
 At the command of Christ, Mrs. Weeks had 
 filled the water pots with water, and in due 
 time, at His word, the water was turning into 
 wine. 
 
88 
 
 CUPPED WINGS. 
 
 n ' ■ ■hi if.-' 
 
 " I have many things to learn and many things 
 to try and undo." He seemed to be bracing his 
 weak will for some supreme effort. " I have 
 something to say to father. Tell him to come 
 now." 
 
 Mrs. Weeks called her husband, and, when he 
 came, stole away and left father and son alone 
 with each other. Henry poured into his father's 
 ear a long tale of gambling debts, fraud and 
 defalcation. When he had finished, Hiram sat 
 with his face buried in his hands. The agonizing 
 struggle of conscience against the habit of years 
 passed from the son to the father. 
 
 At last he raised his head, and said, in answer 
 to the question in his son's eyes, " Yes, Henry, 
 it shall be done as you desire. Everything will 
 be paid." Through the years Satan had pointed 
 Hiram to the little pile of gold that grew so 
 slowly, while with the other hand he was pre- 
 paring the wings with which it was to fly away. 
 
 Henry was failing visibly, although, when the 
 balmy days of spring came, he was sometimes 
 able to get into the sunshine unassisted. He 
 passed through many hours of great spiritual 
 depression. Agnes was ever at his side as his 
 good angel. He had adopted the pretty conceit 
 of calling her Saint Agnes. She laughingly 
 pressed him for an explanation, but her eyes 
 
WATER INTO WINE. 
 
 89 
 
 were suddenly dimmed when he said, " When I 
 am half awake and half asleep I always see 
 you with a light around your head, like the 
 pictures of Christ in the big Bible you and I 
 used to look at on Sunday afternoons, when we 
 were children, Agnes." 
 
 The family spent the evenings together around 
 Henry's bed. Mrs. Weeks and Agnes were at 
 each side and Hir.f ) at the foot, often with his 
 head resting on the bed, listening to the tender 
 exchange of confidences. The lines of avarice and 
 hardness in Hiram's face were softening. Over 
 him had been stealing a great change. The 
 eyes were seemingly larger and often watery. 
 The voice was not so harsh, but deeper and 
 kinder. 
 
 One evening they had dropped into what Was 
 now their familiar places. Agnes was busy 
 writing to Mrs. Bruce. Henry had been resi/less 
 and much depressed all day. " Saint Agnea," 
 he called. She laid down her pen and took his 
 hand. " It has been dark all day." He did not 
 speak of physical darkness. The things of this 
 world seem unreal as the realities of another 
 world draw near. " My faith has wavered." 
 
 " Your faith in whom ? Not in the Christ 
 who prays for you as he prayed for Peter, when 
 Satan desired to have him, that his faith fail 
 
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 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 not, and who declares, * As the Father hath 
 loved me, so have I loved you.' Faith is a gift 
 from God, and comes through the hearing of 
 His word. Your will and your right arm are 
 also gifts, but He exercises none of these things 
 for you." 
 
 Agnes paused. Henry was listening with an 
 anxious, hungry look on his white face. With 
 an involuntary prayer for guidance she pro- 
 ceeded with a cheerfulness that did not fail to 
 make itself felt in the sad soul. 
 
 " The exercise of faith underlies every action 
 of our lives. We eat food from the four quar- 
 ters of the earth. We did not see it prepared. 
 We eat by faith. We drink by faith. We sit 
 by faith. We rise by faith. We stretch out our 
 hands by faith. We walk by faith in two 
 senses. 
 
 " We have faith in nature that she will not 
 make apples good for food one season, and pois- 
 onous the next. Without faith we would not 
 form a plan, nor sleep, nor eat, nor take a journey, 
 nor sow a seed." Here Agnes held up the stamp 
 she was about to put on Mrs. Bruce's letter, and 
 said : " I am not in the secret councils of my 
 country, but I have faith to do this," and she 
 dampened the stamp with her tongue. 
 
 "How wonderfully thoughtful and kind it 
 
WATER INTO WINE. 
 
 91 
 
 wavS of God to take this active principle of our 
 lives, with which we are so familiar, and make 
 it the gateway into His kingdom, and the door 
 of access to Himself. " Agnes paused again, and 
 Mrs. Weeks' gentle voice was heard repeating, 
 " But as many as received him, to them gave he 
 power to become the sons of God, even to them 
 that believe on his name." 
 
 Henry turned to her eagerly : " Oh, mother, 
 read to me." The old brown leather Bible was 
 within reach, and fell open of itself at these 
 words : " And you hath he quickened, who were 
 dead in trespasses and sins. . . . For by 
 grace are ye saved through faith ; and that not 
 of yourselves ; it is the gift of God." When she 
 had finished the passage, Henry folded his 
 hands, and repeated, as w^as now his wont in 
 the evening hour : 
 
 " Now I lay me down to sleep, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to keep ; 
 If I should die before I wake, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to take." 
 
 Another voice had joined in the simple child- 
 hood prayer. Could it have been Hiram, sitting 
 motionless in the shadows, with bowed head at 
 the foot of the bed ? " Except ye be converted 
 and become as little children, ye shall not enter 
 into the kingdom of Heaven." 
 
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 (716) 872-4503 
 
 

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 11 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DEATH'S HARVEST. 
 
 Spring wept and warmed and blossomed itself 
 into summer, and Agnes had hopes of Henry 
 being with them until the rainbow tints of 
 autumn touched leaf and fruit. She was 
 grieved, however, to notice the change in her 
 father. She would have been glad to have 
 seen him exhibiting some of his old-time 
 interest m money matters, but he was leaving 
 more and more the affairs of the farm to Barnes. 
 He was spending ever more and more of his 
 time in Henry's room. Agnes's experienced eye 
 detected signs and shadows of events which 
 were foretokening their arrival. His physical 
 resistance to the pressure of toil was weakening. 
 He was unable to bear a continual strain of 
 hard work. 
 
 Her hands prepared every nourishing dainty 
 the fertile brain could devise. Often her only 
 reward was the assurance that she was a good 
 daughter, better than he deserved. He took 
 
DEATHS HARVEST. 
 
 93 
 
 of 
 
 )od 
 )ok 
 
 two journeys in that memorable spring. One 
 was to the city where Henry had squandered 
 his strength and substance. 
 
 After the last of Henry's debts was paid, he 
 walked up the steps of a large building with 
 Y. M. C. A. over the door, and asked for the 
 secretary. This gentleman knew human nature, 
 but was somewhat puzzled with this caller, 
 through whose unsophisticated manner shone 
 native shrewdness. 
 
 In the course of their conversation Hiram 
 said, " It is your business, mister, to look after 
 the young men ? " 
 
 " That is what we endeavor to do." 
 
 " Well, see here, mister, here is one hundred 
 dollars of hard-earned money to help you in 
 your work. Well, I have a boy, but — but — 
 Good-bye ! Good-bye ! " 
 
 The astonished secretary watched the figure, 
 clad in homespun and top-boots, until it disap- 
 peared, and then went back to his duties with a 
 heavy heart, feeling that he might not have 
 done all in his power to save others. 
 
 The other journey was to the nearest town, 
 where Hiram was closeted with a lawyer for 
 some hours. One sentence will explain his 
 errand : " I have not done the right thing by my 
 wife and daughter ; as far as I can, I want to 
 
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 ■ ■i>: 
 
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P'fifiT" 
 
 94 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 do SO now. Henry has spent his portion. What 
 is left I wish to leave to them. Now, Mr. 
 Longhead, arrange the le^al documents. You 
 have the materials and all the necessary 
 information." 
 
 The heat of the summer was making heavy 
 draughts on Henry's energy. Agnes proposed 
 to take him to a cooler climate, but he pleaded 
 not to be separated one hour from his mother 
 and father. He had his wish. 
 
 The young people of the village vied with 
 each other in their attentions to Henry. His 
 brilliant eyes and glowing cheeks, it appeared 
 to them, defied the pale horse and his rider. 
 They brought flowers in great profusion. Agnes's 
 heart was often rejoiced with the healthy glee 
 of the young people who came to the old home. 
 
 One young girl, with a rippling bird-voice, 
 sang sometimes an old love song, sometimes a 
 song of home ; but oftener, far of tener, she sang 
 of a country where there is no death — where 
 the leaves are fadeless, where the sun never 
 sets ! In that country there is no sorrow, nor 
 crying, neither pain nor groans. She sang of 
 a city like unto pure gold, whose jasper walls 
 are built on a foundation of sapphire, chalce- 
 donyx, emerald, sardonyx, sardius and amethyst, 
 with its twelve gates of twelve pearls, standing 
 
 
death's harvest. 
 
 95 
 
 wide open by day and by night to welcome 
 the multitude of the redeemed to the presence of 
 Christ, who is in the midst of it. Glorious 
 country, with its redistributed constituencies! 
 Some in the van of earth's constituencies rele- 
 gated to the rear, and some in the rear of 
 earth's successes shining with dazzling splen- 
 dor foremost among the white-robed throngs. 
 
 Once Henry whispered, "Saint Agnes, it 
 would have been a great joy, but heaven is 
 sweeter far." 
 
 She knew he had seen a vision of earthly 
 joy, of honored manhood, of a home with all its 
 enrapturing associations. It had vanished, and 
 in its place was a vision like unto St. John's. 
 
 At the end of June, when flowers and grass 
 and tree and insect-life were revelling in the 
 exuberance of material existence, Henry's spirit 
 cast off its husk, as the quickened life in the 
 seed bursts its bonds and rises above the clods 
 of earth into the beautiful lily life. All day 
 his mind had been wandering. At lucid inter- 
 vals his eyes reflected the light that tips the 
 eternal hills. Once Agnes asked, wistfully, if 
 he knew her. He smiled and said, " The halo is 
 there." He recognized the touch of his mother's 
 faithful work-worn hand, and whispered : 
 
 " The way has been dark, mother, and I feel 
 
I 
 
 ih, 
 
 96 
 
 CLIPPED WINOS. 
 
 
 lii 
 
 if 
 
 the cold rain. The wind chills me, but I see 
 the lights of home ! I am just at the door ; and 
 I am so tired, so tired ! " 
 
 Hiram knelt beside the bed with his face 
 buried in the coverlid. Henry's white transparent 
 hand was clasped in the hardened soil-stained 
 hand of his father. The long summer twilight 
 was fading when Henry gave his last look of 
 recognition. 
 
 " Father, forgive ! " he murmured. 
 
 " God forgive me .' " Hiram answered, in a 
 hollow voice, that came back weirdly to his wife 
 and daughter in the silence of the night for 
 months afterwards. 
 
 Agnes saw coming over her brother's face 
 the shadow of the death angel's wing, and 
 motioned to Barnes, who was in the a Ijoining 
 room. When he reached the foot of the bed 
 Henry was gone. Agnes's hands closed the dark 
 eyes and straightened the limbs. As she drew 
 Henry's hands out of Hiram's she felt her 
 father's hands like her brother's. For a moment 
 her self-possession nearly failed her. Habit, 
 however, asserted itself. She set self aside, and, 
 nerved for the emergency, thought only of her 
 mother. 
 
 Mrs. Weeks was so overcome with grief she 
 had not noticed that her husband had not 
 
DEATH S HARVEST. 
 
 97 
 
 moved for an hour, and she allowed Agnes to 
 lead her from the room. 
 
 Agnes and Barnes then lifted Hiram on the 
 couch, and, pending the doctor's arrival, Agnes 
 used every means at her command to restore 
 him to consciousness. 
 
 It was in vain. On his arrival, the doctor 
 pronounced the verdict which Agnes would not 
 allow herself to believe : 
 
 " Your father is dead ! Heart failure ! " 
 
 The sentence was brief, and there was a 
 suspicious tremble in his voice. Agnes did not 
 faint ; she did not cry. " Mother ! Mother ! " 
 was all she said. 
 
 Mrs. Weeks had been strong so long as 
 Henry's weakness appealed to that strength for 
 support. She was now utterly prostrated by 
 the double blow. The necessity for thought 
 and action carried Agnes through the following 
 days. Ever afterwards to her the things which 
 are seen were temporal, but the things which are 
 not seen were eternal. 
 
 Ishe 
 not 
 
 w^4 
 
 il-- 
 
 '".m 
 
Illlll 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 HILLSDALE'S FUNERALS. 
 
 In Hillsdale the day of a funeral was high 
 holiday, and a good many points were strained 
 to have the funerals on Sunday. It was defraud- 
 ing the public of an ancestral and rightful pre- 
 rogative to have a funeral on another day than 
 Sunday. It was noticeable how expeditiously 
 arrangements could be made if the decease was 
 late in the week. It was equally observable 
 how much time was required for the obsequies 
 if the departure had been earlier in the week. 
 By all means Hillsdale must have the funerals 
 on Sunday. If one had the poor taste or bad 
 manners to die just at a point a little too early 
 or a little too late in the week, Hillsdale would 
 say, " It's too bad ! " or " What a pity ! " 
 
 Hillsdale's rules were after the strictest sect of 
 the Pharisees concerning marriages, deaths, births 
 and funerals. Wednesday was the day for mar- 
 riages. Thursday was the day for deaths. Satur- 
 day evening, after the scrubbing was done and 
 
HILLSDALE S FUNERALS. 
 
 99 
 
 a. bountiful supply of baking was on hand for 
 the delectation of the elderly females, was the 
 nicely-adjusted hour for births. Sunday, by a 
 cast-iron rule, made so by custom, convenience 
 and preference, was the day for a big funeral. 
 Mr. Blodgett in the days of his flesh was wont 
 to comfort Mrs. Blodgett in her most ailing 
 moments with the promise of the largest Sunday 
 funeral the neighborhood had ever seen. He had 
 said to her he would get the best coffin money 
 would buy in their nearest market town. 
 
 Whether orthodox or not, Hillsdale was accus- 
 tomed to say a funeral cannot turn out bad, as a 
 wedding does sometimes, therefore the most was 
 made of each one, and the preparations for it 
 were not second to those for a marriage. 
 
 Stem necessity, alike heedless of poverty and 
 grief, demanded that every member of the 
 bereaved family be clothed in the weeds of 
 deepest mourning, with streamers Hying in the 
 wind like a frigate under full sail. Night and 
 day, and Sunday, needles and tongues were plied 
 with equal assiduity. 
 
 Superstition after its kind reigned supreme. 
 The dire calamity of thirteen sitting down at 
 the table at once was avoided by the neighbors 
 being present in much larger numbers. Ghastly 
 stories of seemingly dead people who had 
 
 i 
 
 II 
 
 1 
 
 m 
 
w ' I': 
 
 100 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 returned to life, or who had been buried alive, 
 went the rounds. 
 
 Speculation, too, was rife as to the time the 
 newly bereaved would stay single, and who was 
 the one likely to step into the vacant shoes. If 
 the bereaved were a widower, an elderly spinster 
 would adjust her beau catchers and declare 
 such things should not be thought of, let alone 
 mentioned, and then fall to musing how lonely 
 the poor dear man would bo without a wife, and 
 what was he to do, anyway, with those mother- 
 less children. 
 
 Sometimes examples from other years would 
 be cited — examples pro and con of second ven- 
 tures on the sea of matrimonv. In the kitchen 
 the stoves were run on the plan of ocean fur- 
 naces. Stokers kept them red hot, with rising 
 temperature. Tha workers, the neighbors, the 
 sympathizers — all hands must be fed, and well 
 fed. 
 
 Grief in no way lessened appetite, and appetite 
 surpassed work. 
 
 In the neighborhood, preparations were only 
 less elaborate. Earlier rising than usual was 
 observed, to the end that the chores might be 
 gotten out of the way. It was most desirable to 
 get an early start that nothing be lost. Undis- 
 guised curiosity was not only permissible but 
 
 i| ;!' 
 
HILLSDALES FUNERALS. 
 
 101 
 
 tite 
 
 'ly 
 
 ras 
 be 
 to 
 lis- 
 
 )Ut 
 
 commendable, and had right of way till the last 
 mourner left the grave. Whispered comments 
 were in order. " She has Selina's coat on and 
 Matilda's veil." " Matilda's veil is not much the 
 worse of wear." " She did not need it long, but 
 she may need it again." "Hear him cough." 
 "There were fifty teams at the last funeral." 
 " I don't believe there will be enough mourners 
 to fill the centre seats." " Oh, bother, I have 
 forgotten my handkerchief!" "You will not 
 need it, Mr. Dadly is not a very affecting speaker. 
 The widow is afraid he will not do justice to his 
 subject." 
 
 Presently a long concourse files from the house 
 to the church. Eternal friendship or bitter 
 enmity is to be the natural outcome of the ser- 
 mon. It is not so much to bo food for the 
 reflection of the living as eulogy of the dead 
 that is desired by many interested. 
 
 Now it so happens that very few can stand 
 the searching light of canonization immediately 
 upon decease. This slight reflection throws some 
 light on the catalogue of saints. It takes time 
 to disentangle the ignoble and leave the true. 
 After the service the casket lid is removed, and 
 all are invited to view the remains. Familiar 
 friend, warlike neighbor, and passing stranger 
 jostle each other in the procession of morbid 
 
 li 
 
 J 
 
 I 
 
 .'-f^ 
 
 ill 
 
 
It: 
 
 102 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 !l 
 
 curiosity. Age lifts babyhood to take its first 
 undesired or horrified look into the face of death, 
 marred by disease and the marks of dissolution. 
 When the supreme moments, arrive the specta- 
 tors are almost breathless with excitement, as 
 the mourners take a public farewell of their dead. 
 The involuntary tears and sobs of strong men 
 and frail women were almost counted, gauged 
 and compared, favorably or otherwise, with other 
 occasions of a similar kind. 
 
 Ijii 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 INNOVATIONS, 
 
 Hillsdale had come to the eve of a new and 
 very unpleasant sensation. Its traditions were 
 to be set aside. 
 
 Mrs. Bruce, whose husband had recently died, 
 came to Agnes and her mother in their sore 
 trouble. She arranged everything (juietly and 
 perfectly. A great bunch of white lilies tied on 
 the door spoke with lips of purity, not of death 
 but of the fuller life. Christianity has not en- 
 tirely driven out the emblems of a heathen phil- 
 osophy which is dead itself. 
 
 Christianity has brought in the flowers, and, 
 by a strange contrast, places them on caskets 
 which heathen teaching has taught us to paint 
 black. 
 
 The old friends and neighbors, as they came, 
 were taken into the solemn chamber of death, 
 where father and son lay side by side, proclaim- 
 ing in the silence that the true purpose of this 
 
104 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 life cannot be read by the flickering torch of 
 time, but only by the steady light of eternity. 
 
 The hands which had toiled early and late lay 
 folded at the busiest time of the year. The one 
 for whom they had toiled needed no longer the 
 things that perish with the using thereof. There 
 had been no watching by the dead. At night 
 Agnes had read to her sorrow stricken mother : 
 " I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from 
 whence cometh my help." "Behold, he that 
 keepeth thee shall neither slumber nor sleep." 
 " The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy 
 coming in from this time forth, and even for 
 evermore." 
 
 The Scripture read, they knelt while Mrs. 
 Bruce prayed, and asked amidst her petitions 
 that God would give His beloved sleep. The 
 funeral was a marvel of simplicity. While 
 Agnes and her mother took a long farewell of 
 their dead, Mrs. Bruce guarded the doors lest 
 someone, unwittingly, might intrude on the 
 sacredness of their grief. 
 
 The service wa^s comprised of Scripture read- 
 ings, full of assurances of immortality and 
 promises of the resurrection, followed by a 
 prayer breathing the petition : " Now our Lord 
 Jesus Christ himself, and God even our Father, 
 who hath loved us and hath given us everlast- 
 
INNOVATIONS. 
 
 105 
 
 id 
 a 
 rd 
 
 fr, 
 t- 
 
 ing consolation and good hope through grace, 
 comfort your hearts and stablish you in every 
 good word and work." 
 
 No mourner of the first degree followed to the 
 grave. Hillsdale would have recovered from 
 the shock sooner had not Agnes trespassed too 
 far on its prejudices by appearing in church on 
 the following Sunday clad in her usual quiet 
 garb of black, relieved hy frills of dainty white 
 lace. Hillsdale was as true in its allegiance to 
 the despot fashion as any centre in the grip of 
 the mad goddess. It was a little slow in receiv- 
 ing and comprehending her dictum. That was 
 the difference between the two. If Hillsdale 
 could have received anything at a moment's 
 notice, it would have followed the notice in- 
 stantly, in so far as changing its ideas of beauty 
 and fitness ; but it might take six months for the 
 scissors and needles to work out its new ideal. 
 
 What is is. A thing must either be or not 
 be. If voluminous arm gear is perfectly lovely, 
 it is so when the fashionable world is makinjr 
 the awful mistake of wearing skin-tight sleeves. 
 
 Our dress is now a badge of slavery. It will 
 be a happy day when we are gowned in a 
 national costume, even if it does classify and 
 label us like the bottles in an apothecary shop. 
 Jerusha Wells was very emphatic in her 
 
106 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 I 
 
 declaration that she would rather have sewn the 
 ends of her fingers off than to have Agnes 
 appear arrayed as she was. 
 
 Furthermore, she ventured the assertion that, 
 " After all she was a chip of the old block." 
 
 Mrs. Blodgett held a handkerchief, deeply 
 bordered with black, to her eyes during the 
 whole service, to conceal if possible her disap- 
 proval. 
 
 Agnes's weight of sorrow rendered her totally 
 oblivious to criticism. She realized that her 
 mother's feet were well nigh slipping under her 
 heavy load, and she resolved, as far as possible, 
 to carry her on her own wings of faith. She 
 had gone up to the house of God prompted by 
 the same motive which prompted David when 
 he exclaimed, " I had fainted unless I had be- 
 lieved to see the goodness of the Lord in the 
 land of the living." " Wait on the Lord ! be of 
 good courage, and he shail strengthen thy heart. 
 Wait, I say, on the Lord." 
 
 It cannot be considered extraordinary that 
 Hillsdale employed its time trying to locate the 
 blame of this double visitation. Even the dis- 
 ciples asked the Master: "Who did sin, this 
 man or his parents, that he was born blind ? " 
 
 It was clearly a judgment. 
 
 Hillsdale forthwith filled up its list of indict- 
 
INNOVATIONS. 
 
 107 
 
 ments, and cleared its skirts of any blame in 
 the matter, by refusing to grant to Henry and 
 his father any endorsation as a passport to 
 Heaven. It was conceded that a great change 
 was to be observed in both. However, repent- 
 ance towards God and faith in our Lord Jesus 
 Christ was irrevocably tied to a regular pro- 
 tracted meeting, and a tangible penitent bench. 
 There was lack of the perception that God is 
 not thus circumscribed to those honored means, 
 but also has declared : " Look unto me, all ye 
 ends of the earth, and be ye saved." 
 
 II', 
 IIW 
 
 ^ 111 
 
 11 
 
 irt. 
 
 ct- 
 
 1- 
 
 i '^ ■!'''' 
 
 
 T 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AGNES'S STRANGE VISION, 
 
 The double funeral was followed by strange 
 days at the old farm. To Mrs. Weeks and Agnes 
 it would have been more natural if all the wheels 
 of humdrum human affairs had stood still, than 
 for the sun to rise and run its daily journey and 
 sink into rest, and, with its rising, set those wheels 
 revolving and keep them going until its setting 
 allowed them to run down. 
 
 The mainspring of all the old-time activity 
 was broken, and the key which had wound it 
 up was missing. 
 
 They could not tell which one they missed the 
 more — the one to whom they had not been 
 allowed to minister so much as a cup of cold 
 water, or the one on whom they had lavished 
 days and nights of loving ministrations. 
 
 Mrs. Weeks's presence was almost ghost-like 
 as she moved around the quiet house. Agnes 
 was painfully conscious of the preoccupied look 
 on her face, and the evident effort she made to 
 
AGNESS STRANGE VISION. 
 
 109 
 
 concentrate her attention on affairs pertaining 
 to the house and farm. 
 
 Agnes did not consider it wise to carry her off 
 among strange faces and to stranger scenes, but 
 endeavored bravely to awaken anew her interest 
 in familiar objects. 
 
 When Barnes rented the farm, Agnes retained 
 a Jersey cow. She also built a wonderful poultry 
 house, and insisted on her mother helping in the 
 vegetable and flower gardens. A bed of white 
 lilies in full bloom was superseded by bright 
 geraniums, because Mrs. Weeks said the lilies 
 reminded her of the funeral, and she saw nothing 
 in their purity but a winding sheet for the dead. 
 Agnes herself entered into all the church and 
 social life of the village, and carried her mother 
 with her. 
 
 An active mind like hers must find expression 
 outwardly, and Agnes's mind exercised itself in 
 numberless ways and means for the betterment 
 of her native place. Every eflbrt, either directly 
 or indirectly, was aimed at Satan's stronghold, 
 the little corner tavern. Her efforts to found a 
 public library were met by conflicting opposition 
 from ignorant and covetous taxpayers. One man 
 did not want to be taxed for the gentry, who 
 ought to buy their own books if they wanted 
 them. Another did not see what the poor wanted 
 
 mi 
 
UL|HP)|i i 
 
 m 
 
 no 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 with books. Billy Watson prognosticated a 
 general stampede of the Hillsdale youth from 
 the work of the farm to idleness and all-round 
 destruction. 
 
 It was a proud day for Agnes when her efforts 
 were finally crowned with success, and she saw 
 a dream materialized into a few shelves well 
 filled with good books in bright landings. Rev. 
 J. W. Long and his wife, in whom Mrs. Blodgett 
 saw signs of partiality for homes possessing 
 organs and sofas, found in Agnes a trained right 
 hand. Mr. Long once used the localism " Saint 
 Agnes " in addressing her. The blinding tears 
 which came to her eyes put him upon his guard 
 ever after. He was a man with sufficient humil- 
 ity to see and appreciate the talents in the mem- 
 bers of his flock. 
 
 Agnes soon found her little stock of knowledge 
 and experience a note on demand. She stood 
 aghast when he asked her to be a medical mis- 
 sionary ; but when he explaii?ed that he wished 
 her services wholly for Hillsdale, she consented. 
 As a consequence, she found herself giving talks 
 to the Endeavor Society on the proper care of 
 the sick ; what to do in case of accident ; anti- 
 dotes for the diflerent poisons ; resuscitation of 
 the apparently drowned. Such subjects at a 
 religious meeting did not meet with universall 
 
AGNES S STRANGE VISION. 
 
 Ill 
 
 approval, inasmuch as many of the instructions 
 ran counter to the traditions of the elders. 
 
 Hillsdale had its own pharmacopeia, principles 
 and practice of medicine. Whiskey and brandy 
 for fevers, colds, and all the human ills, was the 
 panacea. External and internal application, and 
 always frequent doses of alcohol, was the sheet 
 anchor. 
 
 Billy Watson, tottering on his gnarled stick, 
 hobbled over to the minister to quaver out the 
 opinion that such talk was not the Gospel full 
 and free. Mr. Long read for him the parable of 
 the good Samaritan. Billy, however, having 
 ears heard not, and observed that " Sam Martin 
 had more money to fool away than he had. 
 The Lord helps them that helps themselves. 
 One of the worst things of these evil days is so 
 much talk about the poor and neighbors." 
 
 Mrs. Blodgett, fov her part, did not believe in 
 these here Christian Devourers' Societies, but as 
 no alarming symptoms of cannibalism came to 
 the surface, the society was allowed to flourish. 
 
 The young people were delighted with this 
 practical departure from a mechanical routine, 
 which some of them thought was the sum and 
 substance of religion. Then came a day when 
 they showed their appreciation by electing Agnes 
 president of their society. This position opened 
 
 
 iii 
 
rfirn 
 
 112 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 1 ; 
 
 for her a door of Christian usefulness of which 
 she had never dreamed. It began to open when 
 Mrs. Long called one day to enlighten her on the 
 duties and privileges of her office. " You are, 
 Miss Weeks, by virtue of your office, a member 
 of the Business Board of this church. Mr. Long 
 is exceedingly anxious for you to take your 
 place. I will only be too happy to accompany 
 you next Monday if you will consent to go." 
 
 After much deliberation, an<i a little secret 
 enjoyment over the anticipated consternation 
 her appearance would create, Agnes consented. 
 
 Hillsdale's Quarterly Meeting was in full swing 
 when the door opened, and in walked Mrs. Long 
 and Agnes. It was a characteristic gathering, 
 and every member was present. 
 
 The representatives from each society were 
 alert, and ready for offiance or defence, as the 
 occasion might demand. There was not always 
 unanimity as to what was the true interest of 
 the church. Some were of the opinion the best 
 policy was to pay up the last dollar, and leave 
 the minister free to devote his time exclusively 
 to spiritual matters. 
 
 The brother representing the greatest shortage 
 rose to affirm that the concensus of opinion in 
 his neighborhood was that the minister did not 
 visit enough. People only gave, of course, when 
 
AGNES S STRANGE VISION. 
 
 113 
 
 they felt like it. Naturally enough, the people 
 did not feel like giving unless the minister went 
 around frequently and made himself at home. 
 The minister, for his part, ought to be just as 
 much a minister of finance as he was a minister 
 of the Gospel. They would all remember Uncle 
 Jolly, who in the providence of God had labored 
 with them twenty years ago. As for his appoint- 
 ment, they had never had such times before nor 
 since. Brother and Sister Jolly were great and 
 good visitors. They seemed to have plenty of 
 time to visit. He could remember them coming 
 before breakfast in the morning and spending 
 the day, returning home at midnight. 
 
 These remarks received great attention by 
 some of those present. Some lines on Mr. Long's 
 face indicated humor. 
 
 Between this speaker and his neighbor there 
 existed an ancient feud about a line fence, 
 hence the neighbor retorted : " As for him, he 
 wanted no minister to earn his salt with his 
 shoe-leather. If omnipresence and omniscience 
 was what was wanted, he would move that the 
 figures be put up to five hundred and fifty 
 dollars." 
 
 This generous proposal received no seconder. 
 The bare contemplation of its enormity, ex- 
 travagance and recklessness produced a quietus, 
 8 
 
Pi 
 
 WM 
 
 Mr?/ 
 
 114 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 
 which gave Mr. Long the opportunity to intro- 
 duce to them the new member of the Board. 
 
 " Miss Weeks," he said, " is now the President 
 of the Christian Endeavor, and awaits your 
 approval to take her place as a member of this 
 Board. Has anyone anything to say ? " 
 
 Billy Watson, snuflfbox in hand, was the first 
 speaker. With the usual intervals devoted to 
 snufF-taking, he proceeded to intimate : 
 
 "He did not like these critters called 'new 
 wimmin.* They gallivant the country over to 
 find a board or deestrict meeting, or hoospital 
 or 'wention, or something of that kind, to 
 sit onto. The 'old wimmin" wern't 'wention 
 wimmin, nor nusses, nor nuthing, and never sot 
 on boards, nor no such things." 
 
 " The present Board excepted, Billy ! " called 
 out Charlie Baxter, the village joker. 
 
 It is almost certain the general laugh pro- 
 voked by this sally put all in a good humor 
 and saved Agnes's cause. 
 
 Billy, not understanding the delicate allusion 
 to his antiquated femininity, would not sit down 
 until he had delivered an awful warning against 
 " the worriting time there would be if wimmin 
 were 'pinted stewards, to plague the life out of 
 men about the minister's salary." He finished 
 his incoherent drivel w^ith an ancient quotation 
 
AQNESS STRANGE VISION. 
 
 115 
 
 he had overheard in the relation of some Con- 
 ference news from a borrowed copy of the 
 Chrlstiitii Guardian : " Who will take care of 
 the babies ? " 
 
 If Agnes had needed anything to nerve her 
 for the discharge of the disagreeable duty of 
 claiming her present honor, it was the sugges- 
 tion that she might one day become a steward. 
 Hillsdale never observed any business method 
 whatever in the payment of the minister's 
 salary. The steward, at the last moment, got 
 into his buggy, apologizing for his errand as he 
 went. He was not calling upon them to dis- 
 charge an obligation for value received, but 
 rather to contribute to an object of charity. 
 
 In Agnes's memory was stored a picture of 
 the pale face of a minister's wife, lighted up and 
 shadowed at the same time with smiles and 
 tears at the sight of a well-filled basket. " God 
 has boen good, so good," she said. " He has 
 taken away our appetites for three days, and 
 enabled us to live on grace alone." 
 
 Charlie Baxter came back to the defence again. 
 Good nature shone from brow and eye and lip. 
 
 " Mr. Chairman," he said, " I am not speaking 
 with any disrespect of the cloth when I say I 
 remember hearing a ministerial brother, of 
 weight in several ways, almost tear his hair and 
 
 
 • i 
 
 '%U 
 
I'llTf L 
 
 llll:i 
 
 m 
 
 116 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 burst his white necktie in eloquent advocacy, 
 with sonorous voice and some gesticulation, of 
 what women would do for moral reforms if the 
 State would only grant her a vote. While this 
 great man is calling down the politicians for 
 their hands-ofi' monopoly policy, he himself is 
 saying to these same women, ' Hands off my 
 sacred prerogatives ! God made you hewers of 
 wood and drawers of water for me. If you 
 dare to peep, I will hurl at you, with all my 
 might, the epithet, ' New woman ! ' 
 
 " We must not find too much fault with Bro. 
 Watson for following so illustrious an example. 
 The Church should lead the state in this 
 matter. I now move we confer on our sister 
 Agnes Weeks all the privileges in our power, 
 and hide away this little leaven of justice and 
 equality with the prayer that it may help to 
 leaven the whole lump." 
 
 This motion was carried ; but there was an 
 evident doubting whereunto this thing would 
 grow. 
 
 Mr. Long now invited Agnes to address the 
 meeting. She rose, and, with a quiet smile on her 
 lips, said : 
 
 " My friends, I do not know whether or not 
 to thank the church in general, and you in 
 particular, for this honor. I will relate a little 
 
 !'• ; 
 
AONESS STRANGE VISION. 
 
 117 
 
 incident and allow you to decide this matter 
 for me. Whether I was in the body or out of 
 the body I do not say, but I once had a vision. 
 In this vision I saw a large church, and I 
 attended its public ministrations. The majority 
 in attendance were women. I found my way to 
 its prayer-meeting, and the only man present 
 on this occasion was its leader. I went to the 
 Sunday-school, and found the majority of the 
 teachers were women. I opened the Missionary 
 Report of the General Society and discovered, 
 from the Atlantic to the Pacific, women had 
 tramped through every city, town, village and 
 country road, to gather the paltry mickle which 
 makes up the astounding muckle. I must have 
 been out of the body, for just then a little crea- 
 ture, looking like a demoralized brownie, with a 
 demoniacal, knowing grin, peeped around a 
 church pillar. 
 
 " ' How is this ? * I interrogated. * Have these 
 women no work in their own homes ? ' 
 
 " * Lots and lots,' he chuckled ; * and they run 
 a Missionary Society of their own, too.' 
 
 " * What are the men doing ? ' I demanded. 
 
 " * Oh, they have their hands more than full 
 with business and politics. They can't spend 
 any time at this work except to boss the job,* 
 and he grinned more wickedly than ever. 
 
 llBi 
 

 118 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 " I went then to the governmental chambers 
 of this church. I found some women who had 
 strayed, through undesigned legislation, into the 
 lowest court. In none of the higher courts 
 could I find a trace of womankind, but well- 
 brushed broadcloth and spotless linen. 
 
 " Again the sprite appeared, but seeing a 
 dangerous look in my aye, dodged, as if to avoid 
 a blow. As he peeped cautiously around the 
 pillar again, I asked, ' How does this happen ? ' 
 
 * ' The men won't allow them to vote,' he 
 answered. 
 
 " Then added, with another fiendish chuckle, 
 • The men are few, but the women are a great 
 host.' " 
 
 When the routine of the quarterly business 
 was ended in the usual way, and the brethren 
 had separated for their homes, one thought was 
 uppermost in each mind — " Agnes Weeks, only 
 daughter of the late Hiram Weeks, of Hills- 
 dale, was living on the borderland of insanity." 
 
 ■'li'ii 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 AGNES AN ORPHAN. 
 
 -■ 111 
 
 Two years and a half had passed away since 
 the day death had reaped such a bountiful har- 
 vest at the old homestead. 
 
 Agnes would have realized a tranquil enjoy- 
 ment in her everyday duties and the simple 
 diversions within reach, but for the haunting 
 fear that her mother was slipping out of her 
 loving grasp. 
 
 Nothing but the most urgent entreaties could 
 induce Mrs. Weeks to leave her home. When 
 she did leave it she pined so visibly to return 
 that Agnes was glad to bring her back. If her 
 daughter had been depending on her strength 
 of purpose or muscle, her hold on life might 
 have tightened, but Agnes's aim in life was to 
 shield her mother from even the approach of 
 anxious thought. Through her utter selfless- 
 ness, her mother's thoughts were often allowed 
 to linger in her household graves. 
 
 Mrs. Weeks, latterly, had striven to prepare 
 
 ^%: 
 
m 
 
 i'l'.., 
 
 .1 II I 
 I 
 
 120 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 her daughter for what she felt was the inevit- 
 able in the near future. 
 
 Agnes would not listen. 
 
 When the end came there was only time for a 
 few broken words. Agnes knelt by the bed and 
 piteously prayed, " Mother ! Mother ! do not 
 leave me alone. Try and get better for my sake." 
 
 A weak voice answered, " I will try." With 
 a great effort she repeated those farewell words 
 of Christ's: " Lo, I am with you alway, even 
 unto the end of the world." 
 
 That day saw Agnes an orphan indeed. 
 
 The weary days and weary nights followed 
 each other in meaningless procession. Life 
 spread out a Sahara desert, where the sands 
 drifted drearier than the dead forest leaves in 
 November. Agnes was as 
 
 " An infant crying in the night, 
 An infant crying for the light, 
 And with no language but a cry." 
 
 One day she crept upstairs and sat down by 
 the old cradle. She knew its history by heart. 
 In other days she had smiled at its primitive- 
 ness; but now it was as the wand of an enchanter, 
 annihilating the cruel present and bringing back 
 the long past, laden with the smiles and healin^ 
 kisses and lullabies of childhood. She felt 
 
 il3i::i 
 
AGNES AN ORPHAN. 
 
 121 
 
 grateful for the generous proportions which had 
 accommodated Henry and herself long after 
 babyhood was over. She remembered with 
 inexpressible tenderness the little tired mother, 
 who never omitted to rock her two romping 
 children into sweet, dreamless slumber. 
 
 For the first time she allowed herself to turn 
 to her mother's work-basket to find the bit 
 of sewing which had last employed her fingers. 
 It was to have been a gift for Agnes on her 
 birthday. In her haste one day to hide it from 
 her daughter she had left the needle sticking 
 in the hem. Here it was just as she had 
 dropped it. 
 
 To quiet the longings of her heart for a word 
 from across the dreary, silent, and yawning 
 death chasm, Agnes opened a box containing 
 the precious letters her mother had written to 
 her during their years of separation. 
 
 They had been written by a hand unused to 
 letter writing. Both character and expression 
 were stiff", and lacking in every essential of good 
 letter writing. But the love prompting the pro- 
 tracted eflfort shone out in perfect symmetry. 
 
 Agnes could not read them. They only re- 
 minded her of a land from whose shores no 
 bark would find its trackless way to bring her 
 messages from her loved ones. 
 
I 
 
 kiii 
 
 
 122 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 With something very like despair in her heart 
 she opened her mother's well worn Bible, and 
 aimlessly turned the leaves. 
 
 It may have been because the daughter's 
 lonely heart had been seeking everywhere for 
 mother, that the words, " Who is my mother, or 
 my brother ? " caught her eye. 
 
 A flashlight of eternal truth showed her 
 another lonely figure traversing the plains of 
 time, and turning his back on the glories of the 
 Godhead, to go forth into a world whicii provided 
 holes for the foxes and nests for the birds, but 
 did not give in exchange for a life of service 
 and a redemptive death so much as a place for 
 the Son of Man to lay his weary head. 
 
 Agnes left her mother's room with a deter- 
 mination to leave the hiding place of selfish 
 grief, and to seek the kinship which the father- 
 hood of God and the brotherhood of man implies. 
 Just as surely as Elijah heard and understood 
 the question, " What doest thou here, Elijah ? " so 
 surely Agnes heard the same question and felt 
 its import. For the first time in her life, she 
 discovered herself with idle hands. She turned 
 from her chosen vocation with a loathing which 
 possesses the skilful physician when he sees 
 relentless death searching for, and victoriously 
 finding, the mysterious link which binds the 
 soul to the body of his best beloved. 
 
!• .fin 
 
 Isees 
 
 isly 
 the 
 
 AGNES AN ORPHAN. 
 
 123 
 
 As soon as Agnes determined to go forth on 
 the path of duty there was verified to her the 
 divine promise, " Behold, I send an angel before 
 thee, to keep thee in the way and to bring thee 
 into the place I have prepared." 
 
 That very evening she received a letter from 
 Mrs. Bruce urging her to pay her a protracted 
 visit. She resolved to go and throw herself 
 heartily into all the philanthropic work to 
 which this lady devoted herself as well as her 
 ample means. 
 
 The silent old house was put into beautiful 
 order, and a visit was paid to the snow-covered 
 graves. 
 
 Then Agnes found herself with her trunk on 
 the front doorstep waiting for faithful Barnes 
 to drive her to the train. 
 
 Never had she felt so desolate. Never had 
 she realized to such an extent the uncertainty 
 of human plans and human life. To hide her 
 tears from Barnes, as he drove up to the door, 
 she bent over the trunk as if to see it was 
 properly secured. Her lips were whispering, 
 
 " Behold we know not anything, 
 
 I can but trust that good shall fall 
 At last — far oflF — at last to all ; 
 And every winter change to spring." 
 
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CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SAINT DIVES. 
 
 Philanthropic activity was the very atmos- 
 phere of Mrs. Bruce's home. Agnes found in 
 this environment the change she so much needed 
 from subjective to objective thought. She found, 
 too, a restfulness in simple obedience that was 
 so different from initiating movements and plans, 
 as had been hers to do through those sad years 
 of bereavement. She never could tell afterwards 
 how many organizations she joined, but she found 
 herself impressed in them all with one fact, and 
 it was that the fields which were white unto the 
 harvest had dire need of laborers. 
 
 When she began to comprehend the scope of 
 the projects engaging Mrs. Bruce's time and 
 attention, she fell again into Elijah's pessimistic 
 experience. When her spirit fainted within her 
 she felt like voicing the sentiment of the true 
 laborer in his words, " I, even I, only am left, and 
 iliey seek my life to take it away." "To do 
 the work we are attempting we need to enlist 
 
' 'U 
 
 SAINT DIVES. 
 
 125 
 
 irds 
 
 the 
 
 of 
 land 
 istic 
 her 
 true 
 land 
 do 
 ilist 
 
 whole corporations and millions of capital. I 
 feel as if all the Christian workers were but a 
 few mice nibbling around the edge of a cheese 
 as big as the world," she told her friends. 
 
 Another day Mrs. Bruce found her holding up 
 a shirt-waist and staring at it fiercely, as if 
 she saw the traces of human blood on its fault- 
 lessly laundered surface. " I have been at a 
 bargain counter this morning," she exclaimed. 
 " I displaced a native of the Emerald Isle, who 
 vociferously objected on the ground that she was 
 ' sixty-foive, born in Tipperary on the siven- 
 teenth of April, at foive o'clock in the marning, 
 ma'am.' She did not propose to be put out of 
 countenance bv the * loiks ' of me." 
 
 " I begged her pardon, and explained that I had 
 not known previously its locality, and was under 
 the impression she had given, with the rest of us, 
 her countenance to the present promiscuous 
 tussle. 
 
 '* The other elbow did similar duty with a lady 
 whose accoutrements at the door might have 
 been those of ' a daughter of a hundred earls.' 
 She parried the sharp encounter by adroitly 
 climbing on the counter, and by this means 
 reached the desired goal first. 
 
 " I came away with this shirt-waist, costing 
 just forty cents, and a conviction that getting a 
 
 III 
 
 .11 
 
 m 
 
||h|^k|..: 
 
 126 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 bargain means getting something for which an 
 honest price is not paid. I am determined to 
 know personally the history of this shirt waist." 
 
 Agnes entered upon this new enterprise heart 
 and soul, but discovered many obstacles to be 
 overcome before she could obtain employment 
 in the congested labor market known as a shirt 
 waist factory. 
 
 In the meantime an experience quite common 
 to the human race, but, if genuine, always unique 
 in each particular case, crossed her path. 
 
 Mrs. Bruce's house was a resort for all classes 
 of Christian workers. They came to enlist her 
 sympathies. They came to get the weight of 
 her influence. They came for practical assist- 
 ance. Among the many attracted there by 
 pleasure and profit was the Rev. Horace Harding. 
 
 Harding was a manly fellow, ingrained with 
 the formation of primitive righteousness. Volu- 
 bility, broke loose, and, flowing in mad torrents, 
 under delicately adjusted eye glasses, irritated 
 the young man. He was the pastor of a city 
 mission, and a man who had started out in life 
 well equipped for his work, if the world could 
 be attracted by the bread of life being served 
 without highly seasoned relishes. 
 
 Rev. A. Bompas, Ph.B., pastor of Saint Dives, 
 the hyper-fashionable church on the avenue 
 
SAINT DIVES. 
 
 127 
 
 under whose wing the mission was supposed to 
 nestle, said : " Well, now, really, Harding is a 
 man quite devoid of imaginative sentiment — 
 just fancy, you know ; in fact, he is quite lacking 
 in politeness. Our soprano soloist, Madame 
 Trillini, offered to warble at one of his services 
 as a very great favor. He replied he did not 
 care for favors, and it was not at all necessary 
 that she should put herself to any inconvenience, 
 as his people preferred the old-fashioned hymns." 
 Had the members of the little church known of 
 the uncompromising reply, they would have 
 passed a vote of thanks to the Rev. Horace 
 Harding, who counielled more frequently with 
 God than with flesh. Votes of thanks, and 
 " personals " in the secular dailies, are nauseous 
 to men of the Harding type. 
 
 They knew full well that Madame Trillini and 
 the accompanist, Prof. Fidelinski, had delicate 
 nostrils, constructed for the equally delicate odor 
 of ottar of roses rather than odors distilled for 
 manual pursuits. 
 
 Some thought the Rev. Horace Harding was 
 too much like John the Baptist, or one of the 
 prophets, who were quite antiquated personages 
 at Saint Dives on the Avenue. Doubtless the 
 Rev. Horace Harding was a trifle too cynical. 
 He thought humanity loved to be deceived, even 
 
 
 
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 |.,H.M 
 
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 128 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 
 ■11 
 
 ,•1 
 
 .:: 1 
 
 in matters pertaining to religion. He was afraid 
 there would come a time when the Church would 
 engage in a neck-to-neck race for mere popu- 
 larity and crowds and class. 
 
 Madame Trill ini sneered at the antiquated 
 Rev. Horace Harding. With clasped hands and 
 upturned eyes, she fervently exclaimed, " How 
 thankful one ought to be to have for one's 
 clergyman a man fully up to date and what you 
 could notice a little over, like the Kev. A. 
 Bompas, Ph.B. Mr. Bompas has the good taste 
 to reserve his prayers for prayer-meetings, the 
 dying, and occasions of death." 
 
 The Rev. Horace Harding, however, possessed 
 at least one very clear advantage over the Rev. 
 A. Bompas. 
 
 The newly rich and vulgar steward at Saint 
 Dives on the Avenue had called up by 'phone 
 one day both Madame and Mr. Bompas, and in 
 cold blood gave them to understand, in no uncer- 
 tain terms, they were hired to draw, and the 
 tenure of their otHce depended solely on the 
 efficiency with which they fulfilled their part of 
 the compact. 
 
 A church packed with a full pocketed con- 
 gregation was not all that was required. Success 
 depended largely upon the degree of power 
 exhibited to draw upon the contents of the well" 
 filled pockets of the well-fill^4 church. 
 
SAINT DIVE3. 
 
 129 
 
 The Rev. Horace Harding had the privilege, 
 and in the eyes of many the advantage, of going 
 into the highways and hedges and compelling 
 the poor, the halt, the lame, the blind, to come 
 in to the Gospel spread. 
 
 Agnes met the missionary in Mrs. Bruce's 
 parlor. He barely acknowledged their intro- 
 duction, so deeply was he engaged in conver- 
 sation with a man whom Agnes at first surmised 
 must be a pupil of the night-school, and who 
 had evidently set his heart on excelling in 
 spelling : " H- A-T-H spells hath, and you cannot 
 make anything else out of it but H-A-T-H, 
 hath. He that belie veth on the Son H-A-T-H, 
 hath, eternal life." " My dear sir," said Horace 
 Harding, putting his hand on the fussy little 
 man's arm, to fasten his attention (if such a 
 thing as attention were possible) on another 
 equally important truth, " God's truth, like his 
 universe, is balanced. H-A-T-H is certainly the 
 present tense of the verb to have. Shall have 
 is certainly the future tense of the same verb to 
 have. The doctrine you seek to establish can- 
 not be established by H-A-T-H. You are con- 
 fused by bringing over the quality of life into 
 the possession of life. You do not mark the 
 distinction between life and possession of the 
 same life. ' The just shall live by faith ' is an 
 
 equally inspired truth, and implies a continual 
 9 
 
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 li 
 
130 
 
 CLIPPED WINQS. 
 
 ilfl^ 
 
 exercise of faith. We live by bread, bnt we 
 continually partake. Paul, continuing, says : 
 * But we are not of them who draw back to 
 perdition, but of them that believe to the saving 
 of the soul.* You notice he speaks of two 
 classes of persons. Both set out on the life of 
 faith ; but note the sharp distinction he makes. 
 Ono class draws back. Draws back from what ? 
 From a life of faith. Draws back to what ? 
 To perdition. The other class believes to the 
 saving of the soul. Not one act of faith, but 
 believes to the final saving of the soul. You, 
 sir, confound everlasting life with everlasting 
 possession. A farm in a limited sense is ever- 
 lasting, but the possession of it is not everlasting. 
 Everlasting is a quality belonging to spiritual 
 life, but not a quality belonging to the posses- 
 sion of it." 
 
 The little man was in nowise to be moved 
 from his one text, and rattled on : " He that be- 
 lieveth on the Son H-A-T-H everlasting life, 
 just the same as if he were inside the pearly 
 gates a million years." 
 
 Horace Harding was somewhat ruffled by the 
 imperturbability of his antagonist. 
 
 It is an open question whether or not he 
 really was aware that a very attractive, self- 
 possessed young lady had come within the ken 
 
 li";'.!^ 
 

 SAINT DIVES. 
 
 131 
 
 of his vision. He had lived on for thirty odd 
 years without having his dreams haunted by 
 any woman's face, except the kindly face of his 
 mother. 
 
 How or wlien Cupid sped his arrow with 
 certain aim, the saucy sprite would not divulge. 
 To the dismay of this reverend gentleman, he 
 in time found both waking and sleeping hours 
 intruded upon with visions of a dignified young 
 lady, known to him as Miss Weeks. 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
 
 ,:■ 
 
 11 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 EEV. HORACE HARDING. 
 
 Theories are good in their place. There are 
 theories many, and many are scientific theories ; 
 but facts are comparatively few — one fact, 
 m&ny theories. To mistake a theory for a fact 
 may work mischief. A certain salt manufac- 
 turer has a theory that his salt will not cake, 
 and warrants it thus, when the fact is it takes 
 Bridget's sinewy right arm and a hammer to 
 reduce the masses to a pulverized condition. 
 
 Agnes's intensely practical life had given little 
 place for this immaterial growth, which has so 
 often blossomed and ripened into the tangible 
 harvest of actual discovery and useful inven- 
 tion. 
 
 Alas for human hopes, which have far more 
 frequently been nipped in the bud by the chill- 
 ing winds of " if " and " but " ! 
 
 Among Agnes's first impressions of the Rev. 
 Horace Harding were the number and diversity 
 of his theories. His theories would have fitted 
 
1 
 
 J 
 
 i't!- 
 
 REV. HORACE HARDING. 
 
 133 
 
 all the combinations of life, in all their flux, as 
 a well-made glove fits a shapely hand, if there 
 had been nothing wrong with the combinations ; 
 but, so far, not one theory had fitted to his 
 satisfaction. He had theories about the Church, 
 and theories about the state, and theories about 
 women, and theories about children especially. 
 
 Many of the two latter he had, unknowingly, 
 fashioned after the model of a bachelor's wife 
 and spinster's children. Children, according to 
 his theory, ought to be as well regulated and as 
 well attuned as the notes of a superior musical 
 instrument, from which, under the manipulation 
 of skilful hands, nothing but harmony could be 
 extracted. 
 
 He granted that the notes at times might be 
 minor, mournful, plaintive, in short, but yet har- 
 monious. The existence of the natural depravity 
 he so warmly advocated in the pulpit must be 
 proven by the lives of adults alone, as children 
 should always behave like angels ; or, like Punch 
 and Judy, jump at the end of a wire in the hand 
 of another, and when the show is over, be quiet 
 in a box. 
 
 How the children were to become so submis- 
 sive and angelical the Rev. Horace Harding 
 never wasted his time to state. A wave of the 
 hand in majestic silence is very often the road 
 
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 134 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 out of difficulty. It cannot be by the power of 
 example, as, unfortunately, natural depravity is 
 such a drug on the market no one seems to see 
 any fortune for himself and j .^rity in a 
 speculation that would put a corr on this par- 
 ticular article; consequently, everyone has his 
 own share of this commodity on his hands. 
 Yes, the Rev. Horace Harding said, a child by 
 whom a mother has done her duty is amenable 
 to a look, eating when it should eat, sleeping 
 when it should sleep, speaking when it is spoken 
 to ; but crying, no, never. An existence of bliss- 
 ful ignorance, " far from the madding crowd's 
 (of children) ignoble strife," left him in full 
 possession of his illusions. 
 
 His mission Sunday-school proved to him, 
 conclusively, the need of the leaven of his 
 theories. " Reverence and impudence can never 
 lodge together in one urchin," he muttered to 
 himself, on being asked by one of the unwashed 
 of his school, " if he did not think God laughed 
 when he made a monkey ? " " Oh, if mothers 
 would only realize their responsibility ! " he ex- 
 claimed, after spending half an hour catechising, 
 bribing, threatening a four-year-old with the 
 hope of extracting some scrap of Biblical know- 
 ledge imparted by her Sunday-school teacher 
 during the lesson, and receiving the reply, " Old 
 
'I 
 
 1|! 
 I'll! 
 
 II 
 
 of 
 
 REV. HORACE HARDING. 
 
 135 
 
 Sunks told me to sit down on that seat and 
 keep quiet." 
 
 Turning to an older sister with hopes of better 
 results, he inquired concerning the Easter lesson, 
 " What are we to have next Sunday ? " " Eggs," 
 was the laconic reply. 
 
 He multiplied his mental and physical power 
 a hundred fold by sending out tired women all 
 over the city to collect money, to pray with 
 the sick, to hunt out Sunday-school scholars, 
 to teach in night schools, to circulate petitions, 
 and then, by a delightfully inconsistent theory, 
 bound her sphere within the walls of her home. 
 
 In childhood we showed the splendor of 
 copper toes arranged along a line of chalk. In 
 womanhood we vex our souls trying to define 
 the numberless restrictive lines drawn for us 
 by many conflicting authorities. 
 
 The Rev. Horace Harding thought it was his 
 imperative duty to draw a line defining the 
 length and breadth of that mysterious place, 
 designated " woman's sphere." 
 
 Unfortunately, it intersected many of the 
 orbits autocratically described by other eminent 
 autiiorities, and meandered in and out to fit the 
 exigencies of his particular outlook, like an old 
 shoe cut to accommodate bunions. 
 
 He had it drawn somewhere between praying 
 
 
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 136 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 in the prayer-meeting or singing in the choir, 
 and standing on the platform or going to vote. 
 
 He asserted it was impossible for women to 
 distinguish the policies of the parties. 
 
 Practice makes perfect, and even woman may 
 come in time to see as a reality that which 
 exists in the imagination alone. 
 
 She nay come to see that a party calls waste 
 and self-seeking, when out of power, what it calls 
 necessary development of the country, natural 
 expansion, or patriotism, when it gets an innings. 
 Unaccountable, but true is the case, that the 
 Rev. Horace Harding, with a band of faithful 
 women, would hold an evangelistic service in a 
 little hall, filled, through a personal canvass, with 
 the lowest of those who bear God's image ; but 
 the next day, when the hall was converted into 
 a poll, it became, by some machination of the 
 devil, politic, polluted. 
 
 The responsible taxpayers in the neighbor- 
 hood were transformed into beings unfit for the 
 pure association of womankind. 
 
 Then, by a beneficent magic, the evil was ex- 
 orcised, and they were retransf erred into revered 
 fathers, loved husbands, and respected neigh- 
 bors. 
 
 The Rev. Horace Harding could see the fine 
 line limiting woman's province in all its ramifi- 
 
REV. HORACE HARDING. 
 
 137 
 
 cations ; but his eyes were holdeii to the startling 
 truth, that the atmosphere through which he 
 looked was hazy with the genius of Islam, which 
 through an emanation, not from a Pauline 
 epistle, but from the pit, mistakes seclusion for 
 modesty. 
 
 No original deed gives woman a monopoly 
 of retirement from the arena of public life. As 
 far back as the Israelitish exodus, a precedent 
 was set for the world in the three-fold leader- 
 ship. God said, " I sent before thee Moses, 
 Aaron and Miriam^ History would have left 
 unrecorded one glad paean if Deborah had been 
 of the opinion that the head of an army was a 
 position of martial publicity not for her. Her 
 answer, "I shall surely go with thee," should 
 voice the universal sentiment of womanhood to 
 all cauKes which make for righteousness. But 
 custom in China binds the woman's feet ; custom 
 in India makes child widows ; custom in Chris- 
 tendom says woman shall not vote. Custom 
 is a great gelatinous octopus, but the clutch of 
 its arms is dangerously tenacious. Bowing low, 
 and worshipping at the shrine of custom, was 
 the Rev. Horace Harding. 
 
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 If 
 
 ^11 
 
TT 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 WOMAN SUFFRAGE. 
 
 Whenever the Rev. Horace Harding and Mrs. 
 Bruce ''.1 .. verbal encounter on the subject 
 of the enfitTuv'sement of women, which was 
 frequently the east, Agnes listened attentively. 
 His argum; "t^i aro '; in her the old antago- 
 nistic feeling again:" t vi ^^lev^alency of counting 
 might as right. Agnes possessed the rare gift 
 of being a good listener, and Horace Harding 
 began to flatter himself with the thought 
 that their opinions coincided with the same 
 exactness as the two triangles of the fourth pro- 
 position of Euclid. 
 
 He stated to his hostess, in all sincerity, he 
 was open to conviction, and quite willing to 
 devote any number of evenings to the dis- 
 cussion of this important subject, if by his so 
 doing she thought she could convince him of 
 error in his present conclusions. 
 
 Calling one evening with this laudable object 
 in view, the maid informed him that both Mrs. 
 Bruce and Miss Weeks were at a certain hall 
 
 :M 
 
WOMAN SUFFRAGE. 
 
 139 
 
 attending a meeting of a woman's association. 
 He immediately resolved to attend likewise and 
 hear what these women had to say on the 
 weighty questions claiming their attention. 
 
 Oddly enough, his thoughts on the way 
 thither were irrelevant to his avowed object. 
 He thought, with a thrill, of the possibility of a 
 return trip with a white womanly hand tucked 
 confidingly on his arm. A further blissful 
 possibility was to sit for an hour under cover 
 of Mrs. Bruco's conversation and watch the flit- 
 ting expressions of face which Horace Harding 
 firmly believed he could read like an open book. 
 
 He was almost sorry to find himself at the 
 hall, so delightful had been his anticipations. 
 He took a chair just inside the door, but quite 
 out of sight of the speakers. He had lazily 
 planned to take a leisurely, disinterested survey 
 of the audience, in hope of catching a glimpse 
 of the owner of the hand. The first sound of 
 the speaker's voice set his heart throbbing so 
 wildly he involuntarily glanced at his nearest 
 neighbor to ascertain if she were cognizant of 
 his agitation. He could scarcely believe this 
 calm, deliberate speaker, whose evident con- 
 viction begot conviction, was the reserved Miss 
 Weeks, of whom he knew so little, and yet who 
 had, during the last few weeks, exercised such an 
 
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 .1. 
 
140 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 i>liaiiniW;19 :!!flJ 
 
 unaccountable influence over him as, sleeping or 
 waking, to be ever present in his thoughts. 
 After another furtive look around, to make 
 sure no one present but himself was in possession 
 of the knowledge that the Eev. Horace Harding 
 was sore hit in the dangerous region of the 
 heart, he settled down to listen. 
 
 The speaker was saying, " I know a woman 
 who left a home of luxury for one which proved 
 to be the home of a drunkard. Her husband 
 was a lawyer, and used his position and in- 
 fluence and vote against the cause of prohibi- 
 tion. He died in poverty. His widow wrought 
 as best she could, with untrained hands, to 
 educate her boy and save her little home from 
 the governmental tax hammer. She succeeded. 
 To-day her boy drinks and votes. She pays 
 the taxes and weeps. 
 
 "The government, in the press and on the 
 hustings, vociferates, * I am of the people, for the 
 people, by the people.' It is a false statement. 
 Our government is not as representative as it 
 gives itself credit for being. Man fought for his 
 vantage ground and gained it inch by inch. If 
 by the accident of birth he found himself a son of 
 poverty in days that are gone, he was excluded 
 from privileges he now justly claims are but his 
 due. However, forgetting his past, he now 
 
WOMAN SUFFRAGE. 
 
 141 
 
 asserts that 'might is right,' and, actuated by the 
 spirit of the cowardly big boy who tyrannizes 
 over the small boy of weaker muscle, he in- 
 forms womankind she is of so angelic an order 
 as to be no more of the people in the eyes of 
 the law's franchise than an unfortunate lunatic. 
 
 " Woman did not go into the bread-and-butter 
 conflict from choice. Self-preservation is the 
 first law of nature, and unskilled hands have 
 no chance in the labor market. The wolf. 
 Hunger, crouches at the door with glassy, relent- 
 less eyes fixed on loved ones. 
 
 " Neither did womanhood, organized for the 
 defence of home, seek warfare with the liquor 
 traffic. The aggressor is the demon Alcohol, 
 who, bolder than the wolf Hunger, has broken 
 the bolt, planned by God himself for protection, 
 and entering, has taken possession and driven 
 women and helpless children from their shelter. 
 The electorate will neither extend to her the 
 right to protect herself, if she so desires, with a 
 weapon more powerful than a Maxim gun, nor 
 will the same electorate protect her with the 
 ballot from her worst and most insidious enemy. 
 It is now a pitched battle, with an awakened 
 womanhood, against the fearful odds, vested 
 interests, appetite, custom, fossilism, ridicule, 
 intentional misrepresentation, and lack of means 
 
 I:: 
 
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 15 
 
 ■Ir 
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 1 
 
 
 142 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 to focalize her efforts. The liquor manufacturer, 
 wholesaler, retailer and consumer votes; she 
 does not. 
 
 " It would not be modest or wise for woman 
 to claim the ballot because she is better than 
 man ; nor, indeed,for any reason other than that 
 it is her right as a responsible citizen. She is 
 amenable to, and pays for, the making of the 
 laws, in the framing of which she has no voice. 
 Here is a deliverance of the Wine and Spirit 
 News, and let us accord to it the respect due so 
 high an authority : 
 
 " ' A new argument is brought forward 
 against giving the ballot to women. Com- 
 posing the big end of the churches, they would 
 be almost entirely owned by the preachers. The 
 latter would then become the dictators of our 
 politics, and rule the country. Candidates 
 should be closely examined as to their views 
 on suffrage and temperance.' 
 
 " It then goes on to say : 
 
 " * This is the strongest argument yet adduced 
 against woman suffrage, and the more it is dis- 
 seminated the less likelihood will there be 
 of the ballot being given to female citizens. 
 With ministerial influence at work at the polls, 
 it would not be long before an undesirable union 
 of Church and state ensues, public appropria- 
 
WOMAN SUFFRAGE. 
 
 143 
 
 tions for particular sects would follow, the 
 public school would soon become a proselyting 
 agency, and the boasted liberties of the country 
 be seriously threatened. Woman is naturally 
 religious, and he with whom she worships would 
 soon be the dictator of our national policy were 
 the suffrage extended to her.' " 
 
 The speaker paused, and then with a voice 
 deep with emotion said : " Would to God that 
 we could claim the sympathy and support of the 
 Christian ministry ; but the church so far has 
 not comprehended the spirit of the Gospel towards 
 woman, and has recorded its voice against the 
 suffrage of women both in Church and state. 
 
 " The liquor party should not repudiate so im- 
 portant an ally to their cause of opposition to 
 woman suffrage. Let me repeat: woman not 
 having a voice in the legislative halls of our 
 country, the electorate should either be true to 
 their trust and protect her interests against the 
 insults and injuries of a traffic acknowledged to 
 be the greatest foe to her comfort and happiness, 
 or, in British fair play, grant her a free field and 
 no favors, by throwing the responsibilities of 
 bearing those insults and injuries on her own 
 shoulders. It is scarcely worth the effort and 
 the precious time it would take to answer worn- 
 out arguments against woman suffrage. There 
 
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 144 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 is no physical qualification required, as the para- 
 lytic is allowed to vote. There can scarcely be 
 said to be a mental qualification. Many men 
 vote between whom and the inmate of a lunatic 
 asylum it would be hard to differentiate. 
 
 "There is no educational qualification. The 
 man who cannot read and cannot define Conser- 
 vative and Liberal, when they are read to him, 
 votes. 
 
 " We could not give credence to the * trouble at 
 home ' argument without reflecting on manhood. 
 This argument presupposes that the average 
 voter is so arbitrary and narrow-minded that 
 he is not willing to grant to his wife a privilege 
 which he is compelled, by the menace of liberty, 
 to grant to his hireling, namely, freedom of 
 thought. 
 
 " If women were given to making trouble on 
 this head, now — when she is not allowed to regis- 
 ter her convictions — is the time she would be 
 stirring up strife. 
 
 " It might, however, be wise to pass in review 
 some of the classes opposing woman's suffrage. 
 
 " We have just seen the liquor interests steadily 
 oppose this proposed extension of the franchise. 
 Of course, the men interested in this trade grow 
 pale, and indulge in howls of despair at the 
 mere thought of how the home would suffer if 
 
 » 
 
WOMAN SUFFRAGE. 
 
 145 
 
 of 
 
 women spent all their time at the polls, and how 
 little spare time this arrangement of duties 
 would leave the men to patronize the bar. 
 
 " Another class, who have been and are and 
 ever will be opposed to woman's enfranchise- 
 ment, are men whose lives are impure, immoral, 
 vicious. 
 
 " There must be an important reason for this 
 startling fact, which can easily be verified by 
 keeping one's ears attentive. Is this reason a 
 fear of there being but one standard of morals, 
 'A White Life for Two,' so that t stainless 
 life can no longer be demanded for one like the 
 cage of unclean birds ? 
 
 "There is another class, and it may be I am 
 addressing some of that class to-night — a class 
 of noble-hearted Christian women who, strange 
 as it seems, do not realize they are arraying 
 themselves with all those classes just mentioned 
 in opposition to the franchise being extended to 
 woman ; women who honestly think the political 
 arena is not a fit one for women. 
 
 " The inference is, politics are impure, unright- 
 eous. Is it true, ye mothers, that there are 
 children in your homes, little white-robed chil- 
 dren, who every evening kneel at your knee to 
 pray, * Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,' whom you 
 
 calmly contemplate sending forth to engage in 
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 146 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 matters, and go into places, not fit for their 
 mothers ? 
 
 " Let us teach the boy, God has one law, one 
 standard for all. Teach them that what you 
 cannot do at forty neither can they at twenty- 
 one. Teach them politics will be judged by the 
 ten commandments. Swearing, thieving, lying, 
 bearing false witness, are never excusable. 
 
 " What are mothers doing to make political life 
 a life fit for a pure son to enter ? 
 
 " We know no place so unfit for a woman as 
 the home of a drunkard, the home of a blas- 
 phemer, the home of a moral leper. 
 
 " The swath cut by the centuries into the mon- 
 opolies of the few broadens and widens with 
 each completed round. 
 
 " Whether the result be Utopian or not, it will 
 be a result recognizing individuality rather than 
 class or sex. Deborah said of the cause of 
 righteousness, * I will surely go with thee,' and 
 God said of the leadership of the Israelites, * I 
 sent before thee Moses, Aaron, and Miriam.' " 
 
 As the speaker took her seat the Rev. Horace 
 Harding stole away. His ears were tingling as 
 if that white hand had boxed them vigorously. 
 The smile on his lips might have been taken for 
 the smile of a cynic, had it not deepened into a 
 
LI 
 1 1 
 
 WOMAN SUFFRAGE. 
 
 147 
 
 [1 
 
 laugh, loud enough to attract the suspicious 
 attention of a passing policeman. 
 
 His theory of clinging helplessness with which 
 he had clad Agnes had melted away like morning 
 mist, and disclosed a character with purposes 
 and convictions of adamant, on which even the 
 Rev. Horace Harding might lean for support. 
 
 Forgetting himself, and dropping back into 
 boyish patois, he exclaimed audibly : " Gee- 
 whizz ; she is a regular blue stocking ! " 
 
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 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 The next afternoon the Rev. Horace Harding 
 called at Mrs. Bruce's. He found it necessary 
 to explain to himself why he wished to call. 
 Quite so. 
 
 To surprise Miss Weeks by letting her know 
 she had one auditor the previous evening on 
 whom she had not counted, and to congratulate 
 her upon her address, was his mission. 
 
 Perhaps to admit also that bachelors, and 
 men with mothers, wives, and sisters of a certain 
 type, might become prejudiced, and therefore 
 warped in their judgment as to the righteous 
 claims of womanhood, proved to be a satisfactory 
 excuse for calling. 
 
 If his eyes had been opened he would have 
 discovered Love laughing at his subterfuges ; but 
 Horace Harding received not so much as a hint 
 from the mischievous divinity of the coup d' etat 
 awaiting him. 
 
 For the first time he found Agnes alone. He 
 
LOVE. 
 
 149 
 
 felt he had fallen heir to a fortune of some kind, 
 and afterwards discovered it was a golden op- 
 portunity. She had put on her hat and gloves. 
 In answer to a look of enquiry rather than 
 words, she replied, "I have an engagement this 
 afternoon, but I have a few moments at my dis- 
 posal. Won't you sit down?" "Agnes," he said 
 hurriedly, as if he heard approaching foot- 
 steps, "I want to make an engagement with you." 
 He paused, and drew himself up slightly at her 
 look of unfeigned surprise. There was some- 
 thing in his eyes that caused her eyelashes to 
 drop until they almost touched her crimson- 
 mantled cheeks, but not too quickly for him to 
 catch a glimpse of her inmost soul. He added 
 softly, " For life." 
 
 Steps were now heard in earnest, but he held 
 her hand until she whispered, " Give me time to 
 think." 
 
 " Very well," he replied, with quiet dignity, 
 " I shall not come again until you have reached 
 a conclusion and send for me." She had not 
 disappeared up the stairway before he rued his 
 rash statements, and he was tempted to send a 
 message imploring her to allow him to plead his 
 cause. 
 
 He did not, however, but returned to his 
 rooms feeling everything would be held in abey- 
 ance until he heard her answer. 
 
 
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 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
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 Sorrow was treading fast on the heels of his 
 fondest anticipations. 
 
 A letter lay on his table informing him of his 
 mother's dangerous illness, and of her ardent 
 desire to see him ere she closed her eyes on 
 earthly scenes. 
 
 The next day saw Horace Harding standing 
 beside his mother's sick-bed. He had left strict 
 and repeated instructions with his landlady to 
 forward immediately any communications that 
 came to his address. He gave her to understand 
 he was expecting letters of great importance. 
 
 He succeeded in arousing that good lady's 
 curiosity to such an extent she carefully ex- 
 amined every epistle, and kept a record of dates 
 and post-marks, to which were appended re- 
 marks on the handwriting. ' Looks like a man's.' 
 " Pretty sure it ain't a woman's, an3'^ways, but 
 you never can tell." " Women don't make their 
 m's and w's and n's and v's all alike, as they used 
 to." "I'd give anything to know what this 
 one is about, but then I'm not the least bit 
 curious." " I'll send it on as it is." Finally a 
 very large envelope, tied with blue tape, came to 
 hand, and Mrs. Bidgecomb solved the mystery so 
 much to her own satisfaction that her surmises 
 passed first into the confidence of the neighbors, 
 and then into general circulation in the com- 
 munity. 
 

 LOVE. 
 
 151 
 
 
 Mr. Harding had been left a fortune by a 
 dead uncle. Accompanied by so many winks 
 and nods, the inheritance got an excellent send- 
 ofF with the definite amount of ten thousand 
 pounds ; and being in English currency, by the 
 time it had quadrupled, included a title, estate, 
 perquisites, etc. 
 
 When Horace Harding relinquished Agnes's 
 hand, she rushed to her room, bolted the door, 
 threw herself on the bed, and held her burning 
 cheeks with her hands. She tried to slacken 
 the quickened pulsations of her heart. Did she 
 love this man ? Her heart was sore and hungry 
 for human love. Would she not cling to any 
 one who spoke kindly to her of love ? 
 
 She concluded at length she was not in a posi- 
 tion to know whether she loved Horace Hard- 
 ing supremely or not. How fickle she was 
 proving herself to be ! 
 
 She had thrown her whole heart into the new 
 life she found in her friend's house. Had she 
 a right to turn her back on it when she realized 
 its vastness, and the pressing need of workers ? 
 
 Mentally, she had been indulging a censorious 
 spirit. She found fault with the tardiness of so 
 many to deny themselves in the giving of their 
 time to the alleviation of the sufferers. 
 
 At the first temptation she was prone to go 
 
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 111 
 
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 152 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 f , 
 
 into a pleasant home, and deny even the little 
 aid she could afford in the desolation she had 
 found. 
 
 She remembered, now that it was too late, 
 she should have confessed how totally she dis- 
 agreed with many of his theories. 
 
 When her usual decision of character asserted 
 itself, she said aloud, " The present duty is all I 
 am responsible for doing; I will live each moment 
 as it comes." 
 
 She arose, arranged her hair carefully, and 
 gave unusual attention to all the details of her 
 costume. 
 
 There is not the slightest doubt Agnes would 
 have been indignant at an insinuation implying 
 she was consulting an eye she might chance to 
 meet. 
 
 It was the eye of the Rev. Horace Harding. 
 
 w. 
 
!,■■ I 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 liil 
 
 THE UBIQUITOUS SHIRT-WAIST. 
 
 ■ii tii 
 
 During the following busy days Agnes almost 
 persuaded herself that the intervi-^w she had 
 with the Rev. Horace Harding was an hallucina- 
 tion of her own brain. It had been so unex- 
 pected and abrupt. He had so completely 
 dropped out of sight and hearing. She wondered 
 if it were possible her heart had played her a 
 trick. 
 
 The very evening after his call she was 
 notified that there was now a vacant place for 
 her in the shirt-waist factory. On presenting 
 herself the next morning, she was rather sus- 
 piciously eyed by the forewoman. Her life of toil 
 and experience of grief had left no perceptible 
 mark on her appearance of physical vigor. Her 
 personal appearance bespoke a life of wholesome 
 food, pure air, exercise, which is so sadly lacking 
 in many otherwise really attractive- looking girls, 
 whose inhuman lot it is to sit at a table spread 
 for them by the greed and infernality of our 
 
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 154 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 present political economy. They eat of their 
 own flesh, and drink their own life-blood. 
 
 As a result of replying in the negative to the 
 question whether she ever worked in a factory 
 before, she was set at the task of sewing on 
 buttons, at one cent a dozen, or ten cents per 
 dozen waists. 
 
 The waists on which Agnes worked were of a 
 more fantastic cut than the usual plain waists, 
 and required ten buttons and four stnds to 
 fasten them. Therefore, in order to earn ten 
 cents, Agnes sewed on one hundred and twenty 
 buttons, and buttoned them, and also inserted 
 forty-eight studs. 
 
 The story is not yet told. Out of this enum- 
 eration she was compelled to provide her own 
 thread and needles. 
 
 By straining every nerve to the accomplish- 
 ment of the task, and without raising her head 
 to rest a muscle, Agnes, in health, strength and 
 deftness, with a reservoir of vitality on which 
 to draw, could complete her work on one waist in 
 ten minutes. 
 
 Her pay was ten cents for one dozen waists. 
 
 At night Agnes analyzed the earning power 
 of her nimble fingers in a shirt-waist factory. 
 The result was as follows : " I can do one waist 
 in ten minutes, twelve waists in one hundred 
 
THE UBIQUITOUS SHIRT-WAIST. 
 
 155 
 
 and twenty minutes, or two hours. In two 
 hours I earn ten cents, in one hour five cents. 
 In a working day of ten hours I can earn fifty 
 cents, minus the needles and thread. If I only 
 had to provide the buttons and studs, the thing 
 might be just," she said, as she sighed quietly. 
 
 Then she felt the chilling breath from the 
 mouths of gaunt spectres. The deep shadow of 
 emaciated Want breathed into her veins its icy 
 chill, forebodings of the inevitable rainy days 
 and days when the work was short, as she had 
 learned it often was. The second day the five 
 fellow-laborers in her department recognized in 
 her a leader, and consulted her on the advisabil- 
 ity of striking, on the ground that the button- 
 hole workers, in trying to save time and thread, 
 were making the buttonholes so small it was 
 robbing them, in that it took them so much 
 longer to button the buttons. 
 
 So the horrid struggle for existence in God's 
 glorious world goes on. Man is engaged like 
 the wolf, or sometimes like the fox, for susten- 
 ance, and Christ is persecuted. " Inasmuch as ye 
 did it unto one of the least of these my brethren 
 ye have done it unto me." Although under strict 
 surveillance, Agnes had succeeded in learning 
 that the buttonhole workers received but one 
 cent per dozen for working buttonholes, and, of 
 course, provided their own thread. 
 
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 156 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
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 She had no faith in the strike availing other 
 than to call down censure on the buttonhole 
 workers, who were more sinned against than 
 sinning. She succeeded in showing the girls how 
 to save time by putting the needle through the 
 cloth and the eve ot* the button at the same 
 time, and advised the girls not to draw the thread 
 too tight, that by this device the buttoning 
 would be facilitated. One white-faced girl 
 named Jean vainly sighed, and pathetically said, 
 " But that will take more thread." 
 
 The equation of existence was so balanced for 
 this poor girl and her comrades in this sweat 
 factory, euphemiously named Shirt- Waist Manu- 
 factory, that a hairs-breadth change shot a 
 dagger into the nerves of those white slaves, 
 whose habitat is heralded the world over as 
 " Free America." 
 
 Fortunately for Agnes's purpose, she sewed in 
 the pressing-room. This position gave iier an 
 opportunity to gather information from those 
 coming in to press that she would not have had 
 in any other department. 
 
 On Saturday night Agnes returned to Mrs. 
 Bruce's utterly exhausted. Her fingers were 
 so tired and sore she could not use them. 
 
 When the sultry days are with us, and we seek 
 the hammock and the palm-leaf fan, the breezes. 
 
 .' 
 
THE UBIQUITOUS SHIRT-WAIST. 
 
 157 
 
 the lapping waves of lake or ocean, and are con- 
 soled in that we have a bountiful supply of 
 shirt-waists, equalling every demand of time or 
 place, let the following prosaic figures in 
 Agnes's notebook haunt us with the freshness of 
 each laundried waist: 
 
 Front hems, 5c. per dozen. 
 
 Back tucked, 7c. per dozen. 
 
 Yoke, made and put on, 7c. per dozen. 
 
 Collar, first stitching, l^c. per dozen. 
 
 Turned and pressed, 2c. per dozen. 
 
 Second stitching, 2^c. per dozen. 
 
 Making of bands, Ic. per dozen. 
 
 Turning and pressing, l^c. per dozen. 
 
 Second stitching of bands, 2c. per dozen. 
 
 Putting garment together and band on, 16c. per 
 
 dozen. 
 Making sleeves, including putting on laundried 
 
 cufF, 14c. per dozen pairs, 
 ^ewing in sleeves, l^c. per dozen pairs. 
 Cuffs, first stitching, l^c. per dozen pairs. 
 Turned and pressed, 3c. per dozen pairs. 
 Second stitching, 2^c. per dozen pairs. 
 Folding and putting on collar, 4c. per doz. 
 Cost of manufacturing, from 12c. to 15c. apiece. 
 
 1;. M 
 
 '•■i ;;:; 
 
 If we took those garments on which has been 
 set the price of blood, and threw them down at 
 the feet of those from whom we purchased 
 them, we would receive an answer which was 
 
 V I In 
 
!!■ i 
 
 158 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 given nineteen hundred years ago : " What is 
 that to us ? See thou to that." Before leaving 
 on Saturday evening Agnes informed the fore- 
 woman she could not make the work pay. This 
 august personage appeared to deem this excuse 
 paltry and questionable. She said Agnes had 
 not given the work a fair trial, and asked if she 
 were going to another factory. Agnes, on con- 
 fessing she did not contemplate doing so, was 
 further and urgently interrogated as to her plans 
 for the future. As with burning cheeks she 
 wended her way through the thronged streets, 
 she impatiently asked herself, more than once, 
 v/hat had tempted her to end that embarrassing 
 interview with the statement, " She intended 
 to keep house for a gentleman." 
 
 How can the greed lying behind these iniquit- 
 ous sweating systems be definitely located and 
 devil-exorcised ? 
 
 Whose is it to bring these systems of modern 
 days, infernal with legions of demons, to the 
 Christ of God, that the swineherds may receive 
 their fiendish incarnations of devildom, and be 
 sent to the sea of oblivion for destruction ? 
 
 How shall these slaves, shackled and colla 
 as herds of Africans were driven in their gai s 
 on those dread marches to the coast, to be packed 
 in holds of vessels, galled in spirit, with physical 
 
THE UBIQUITOUS SHIRT-WAIST. 
 
 159 
 
 and mental life sapped, and heart crushed, be 
 delivered ? 
 
 Turning from the bewildering intricacies of 
 human government to the kindergarten school 
 of Pentateuch, which is the headline for nations, 
 we find simplicity in God's personal govern- 
 ment. 
 
 " The Scriptures which are able to make thee 
 wise unto salvation " is a Pauline assertion 
 which is accepted by the orthodox as axiomatic 
 and relating mainly to a futurity of well-being. 
 Undoubtedly this is the primary meaning, but 
 these Scriptures in which Timothy was so well 
 instructed have comparatively little to say of 
 the future state. To speak in modem phrase- 
 ology, they contain the Creator's political eco- 
 nomy. His plans for domestic and social life 
 are contained therein, and also the consequences 
 of man's deviation from God's statutes in those 
 same things, and the inevitable conflict of 
 personal interests thereby. 
 
 In God's personal government, irrespective of 
 birth, thrift or laziness, every man was provided 
 for by a tenure of land, accompanied by a con- 
 dition which prevented vast accumulations in 
 the hands of a few. Everyone had a chance to 
 work out his financial salvation on an unpreju- 
 dic d basis. The individual lived with hope 
 
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 '!' :\'r 
 
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 160 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 beaming on his pathway. The unjust inequali- 
 ties of later days had no existence. To think 
 that honest men and women, giving out all their 
 strength willingly to their day and generation, 
 have no other future than the almshouse, is most 
 depressing. 
 
 Christ understood well the polyhedronal nature 
 of these same Scriptures to make wise unto 
 salvation about all the complications of the life 
 which now is, when He commanded us to search 
 the Scriptures. 
 
 Poor humanity, blinded in the blaze of light, 
 going around in mid-day with a lantern, seeking 
 the illusive pot of gold, the philosopher's stone, 
 and turning the whole world into a blackboard 
 on which to try and solve the problems of riches 
 and poverty, the quality of the classes and 
 masses ! 
 
 How far has it gotten with the solution ? 
 
 Comme-icing with greed, it ends with greed. 
 The axiom, " The love of money is the root of 
 all evil," is scarcely taken seriously, or is juggled 
 out of its meaning at the very initiation of the 
 inquiry. 
 
 Anarchy, the stealthy blow of the assassin, 
 starvation sweat-shops, where the living are 
 consigned to the dimensions allotted to the dead, 
 but in exceptional instances fresh air and owner- 
 
 iff 
 
in 
 
 THE UBIQUITOUS SHIRT-WAIST. 
 
 161 
 
 ship measured by miles — all demonstrate the 
 place for this world s wisdom is the comer 
 adorned with the dunce's cap. 
 
 The fading beams of the nineteenth century 
 reveal many schemes of the astute politician, 
 labor leader, single taxer. Each claims in the 
 last analysis to aim at fulfilling the second great- 
 est commandment, to love our neighbors as our- 
 selves ; and we are taught, too, those in the great- 
 est need are our nearest neighbors. We love 
 ourselves to the degree that we strive to attain 
 the highest possible best, physically and intellec- 
 tually. We love ourselves too well to go hungry 
 or cold from choice. Has Christendom yet 
 spelled out the title-page of the Gospel ? Num- 
 ber One would sit enthroned if he were not un- 
 poetically fighting to get into the trough of 
 self-interest, all fours, lengthwise, and seeking 
 life loses it. May the light of the twentieth 
 century see the corpse of self-idolatry. 
 
 *' Our little systems have their day, 
 
 They have their day and cease to be ; 
 
 They are but broken lights of Thee, 
 
 And Thou, O Lord, art more than they. " 
 
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 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 HILLSDALE ONCE MORE. 
 
 Agnes learned accidentally that Horace Hard- 
 ing was away from home. She never thought 
 of accounting for a feeling of pique because she 
 had not received an intimation of the when and 
 why of his proposed departure. 
 
 Horace Harding filled in his little part of the 
 drama by watching anxiously for a certain 
 small note, and cogitated after his usual impul- 
 sive habit : " A woman's mind can be likened 
 to the pendulum of a clock. It starts out in a 
 certain direction with a determined tick, but 
 when it reaches a conclusion starts back on its 
 track, and with almost brazen effrontery goes 
 just as far in the opposite direction." It was 
 the first time in his life he had doubted the 
 possession of enough of the attraction of gravi- 
 tation to bring to a blissful rest the oscillation 
 of a woman's mind hitherto swinging in its arc 
 unattracted. 
 
HILLSDALE ONCE MORE. 
 
 163 
 
 Agnes had now been away from Hillsdale six 
 months, and found it imperative to return and 
 attend to some matters of business about which 
 Barnes had been writing. 
 
 She sought out and carried with her a com- 
 panion, in the person of Jean Hare, who was her 
 nearest neighbor in the shirt-waist factory, and 
 who was an orphan. 
 
 Barnes met them at the station. 
 
 As she drove through the village and came 
 within sight of her desolpte home, a realization 
 of the utter loneliness of her life would have 
 overcome her had it not been for Jean's excla- 
 mation of delight. 
 
 Agnes thought gratefully of how satisfactorily 
 and quickly God pays us for any act done in 
 his name. 
 
 " I am head over heels in debt to you, Miss 
 Weeks," Jean said, as she gazed around and 
 beheld nature in the freshness of her early 
 summer dress, which was gloriously spangled 
 over with the audacious dandelion. 
 
 Agnes looked up at the old face of the 
 mountain, and in its stony eyes thought she 
 caught a glance of recognition, and on its stony 
 lips trembling a greeting of familiarity. 
 
 Jean's sentiment so exactly voiced Agnes's 
 
 i';. 
 
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mw: 
 
 ti It 
 
 
 164 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 state of mind she adopted it as the form of her 
 own thanksgiving. 
 
 In the dusk of the evening she stole away to 
 visit those graves which beckon with shadowy- 
 hands to aching hearts far away, but which are 
 so dumb, so deaf, so blind to the tears and 
 caresses lavished on them by the returned 
 wanderer. 
 
 Agnes whispered many loving messages, and 
 wept out the soreness of her heart on her 
 mother's grave. 
 
 Her grief was not selfish enough to blind her 
 to the carefulness with which faithful Barnes 
 had trimmed the plot. Later she felt something 
 akin to pleasure when she observed this care 
 was not without its influence on the condition 
 of the surrounding: ijraves. 
 
 There were many pleasant changes in the 
 village, too. Agnes had inaugurated a crusade 
 against the tavern. She had organized the 
 temperance sentiment, beginning with the few 
 whom the political shepherds could not lead, 
 and with these behind her had personally met 
 importunately the representatives of the law 
 who grant the license. 
 
 The determination to shut up the nefarious 
 tavern grew. Agnes was gratified to see pasted 
 on the door the notice "To Let." Literally 
 
 ill : 
 
HILLSDALE ONCE MORE. 
 
 165 
 
 translated this meant, Let there be food, cloth- 
 ing, plenty of dry wood finely split, turkey, 
 roast beef, and plum pudding for Christmas, 
 with toys for the children. Let there be lilies 
 at Easter. Let there be happy homes. Let 
 there be a good hope of heaven. 
 
 Among other changes, the church was being 
 made resplendent with a fresh coat of paint. 
 
 Smiles and tears, provoked by the memories 
 of the bygone years, struggled unsuccessfully 
 to reach Agnes's lips and eyes when Billy 
 Watson's ears as usual were cocked towards the 
 close of the Sunday service, waiting for the 
 historic signal of trouble in the shed. 
 
 The starting of the collection plate had 
 always been the beginning of calamity in 
 the horse shed, whether the service was long 
 or short. 
 
 Billy, deaf as an adder, heard the inaudible, 
 and hobbled out with surprising alacrity to save 
 whatever might be left of ruin at the heels of 
 his old white horse. 
 
 It goes without saying, Billy's horse must 
 have had a very penetrating vision or keen 
 scent for the battle between his master's greed 
 and the demand of the collection plate. Per- 
 haps the venerable horse had so imbibed of 
 Billy's spirit that he could find nothing so 
 
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166 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 It <: 
 
 offensive in the world to kick at as a contri- 
 bution plate. One thing was sure, it was 
 never known to kick through any other 
 provocation. 
 
 The village was in the state of excitement 
 always attending the ministerial comings and 
 goings of the itinerant system. 
 
 Agnes was sincerely sorry to lose Mr. and 
 Mrs. Long. They had done much to help her 
 through the dark days of bereavement. Their 
 influence had been very helpful to the life of the 
 village in every good word and work. 
 
 Just before their departure she called to bid 
 them farewell. Mr. Long incidentally mentioned 
 that the incoming minister was a bachelor. 
 He added laughingly, " From his reputation 
 I think his case will be a chronic one unless, 
 Miss Weeks, you can be induced to take him in 
 hand." 
 
 That evening she received a letter from Mrs. 
 Bruce containing the interesting news of the 
 Rev. Horace Harding's appointment to the 
 Hillsdale circuit. 
 
 Mrs. Bruce had not been blind to Horace 
 Harding's infatuation, and sincerely hoped 
 Agnes would reciprocate the love of a true 
 manly heart. Her letter contained the foUow- 
 
 iL 
 
HILLSDALE ONCE MORE. 
 
 167 
 
 ing lines : "He called to inform me of his 
 mother's death, and of his new appointment. He 
 also inquired very anxiously for Miss Weeks, 
 and upon learning of your absence asked for 
 your address. As he had been telling me he 
 had been informed from a reliable source, his 
 new circuit was under the tutelar protection of 
 some kind of a saint, known as Saint Agnes, 
 whom he did not propose to allow to interfere 
 with his work, whether saint or sinner. I 
 thought it best to withhold your address on a 
 slight pretext, and left him in complete ignor- 
 ance of the personality of his saint." 
 
 Agnes thought over the contents of her letter, 
 and came to the conclusion to write the Rev. 
 Horace Harding. The tenor of her letter was 
 to the effect that as he was coming to a circuit 
 where the people were somewhat finicky in 
 their ideas of what a minister and his wife 
 should be, and he would be none the worse for 
 a little advice as to how to conduct himself and 
 what to preach, the writer desired the Rev. 
 Horace Harding to call upon her immediately 
 on his arrival to receive his instructions. 
 
 She closed with minute direction as to the 
 location of her farm from the village. 
 
 The signature could not possibly have been 
 
 
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 i •; 
 
 i. > 
 
 168 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 deciphered by anyone but a Philadelphia lawyer 
 whose imagination was of the same elastic nature 
 as his perception of truth. 
 
 Horace Harding's first impulse was to write 
 an indignant protest. After studying the 
 address carefully, he finally changed his mind, 
 and resolved to beard the lioness in her den. 
 
 i.-'.- 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE VILLAGE JOKER. 
 
 Charlie Baxter, the village practical joker, 
 boasted, and not without foundation, he could 
 arouse the curiosity and temper of the collective 
 female portion of Hillsdale at his pleasure. At 
 every success he scored, his victims vowed anew 
 not to be entangled again in his wiles. They 
 were still smarting over their last encounter. 
 Mrs. Jamieson's boy was trundling an old wag- 
 gon tire gleefully down the road. Charlie called 
 to him to bring the tire to his shop, as the tire 
 was off his waggon. 
 
 Tommy indignantly protested that his father 
 had given him the tire. " That makes no differ- 
 ence," said Baxter, as he took it from the boy 
 and leaned it up against the wall of his shop ; 
 " the tire's off my waggon." Whereupon young 
 Tommy, knuckling his eyes and howling, sought 
 the haven of home and the comfortings of 
 mother. 
 
 Charlie Baxter kept as keen an eye on the 
 
 
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 1' , 
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 l'< ' 
 
 MJI 
 
 170 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 '1 ,V! 
 
 : if ' 
 
 doings of the street as an engineer does on the 
 lines of steel and signals of danger. 
 
 He saw Mrs. Jamieson's lilac sunbonnet hurry- 
 ing on its way to Mrs. Blodgett's. 
 
 Then the lilac sunbonnet and a pink sun- 
 bonnet sought and found a blue sunbonnet. As 
 the sunbonnets increased in numbers, colors, 
 sizes, fashions, and proximity, the irrepressible 
 Charlie called the attention of the neighbors and 
 shop-loafers to what he described as a rainbow 
 on a cloud. " * A rainbow in the morning is a 
 sailor's warning,' so look out for a squall, for I 
 am certain something is brewing," he added, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 The sunbonnets moved towards and concen- 
 trated upon Charlie Baxter's shop. 
 
 He determined to put a cheerful courage on, 
 and show a bold front to the wild charge sweep- 
 ing down headlong upon him. As it came 
 nearer, out of a confusion of tongues he distin- 
 guished the word Tommy. Presently he learned 
 Tommy was a boy who never told a lie. Tommy 
 was a poor lovely, injured, innocent lamb. In 
 short. Tommy was, by common consent, the living 
 embodiment of all those qualities which are so 
 thinly diffused, in general observation, and 
 unconcentrated like the ether, but in Tommy 
 shining out in all the brilliancy of concentrated 
 
THE VILLAGE JOKER. 
 
 171 
 
 youthful virtues. He deigned to dwell on this 
 restless planet for the sole reason that he lacked 
 the wings to soar away. 
 
 The first salutation was, "Good day, Mr. 
 Baxter." 
 
 To be addressed in Hillsdale by this super- 
 fluous title was as serious a matter as to be sued 
 for murder and lose the case. 
 
 " Good day !" Charlie replied, simulating cheer- 
 fulness, but discreetly drawing within easy reach 
 of the door. 
 
 " How did you dare to tell Tommy his father 
 was a liar and a thief ? " gasped Mrs. Jamieson. 
 
 "I told him the tire was off my waggon," 
 Charlie stoutly affirmed. 
 
 " It's not off your waggon," chimed a chorus 
 of voices. 
 
 " There is my waggon and there is the tire ; I 
 leave you to judge if the tire is not off my 
 waggon." 
 
 He dodged into his shop and bolted the door. 
 
 " Well, I never ! " the crowd ejaculated, and 
 dispersed wondering what Charlie would be up 
 to next. 
 
 What he did next gave Agnes a heartache she 
 never forgot. 
 
 Learning the new minister was a bachelor, 
 Charlie conceived a plan by which he hoped to 
 
 
 Ml' 
 
172 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 assemble the village, to a womtin, as a reception 
 committee. 
 
 The day before Horace Harding's expected 
 arrival he procured a blank telegraphic form, and 
 wrote out a message purporting to be from the 
 Rev. Horace Harding, to the effect that, accom- 
 panied by his wife, he would (D.V.) arrive at 
 Hillsdale the next evening. Charlie put the 
 supposed telegram into an envelope, and ad- 
 dressed it to the President of the Ladies' Aid, 
 Hillsdale. He then got into his buggy, drove to 
 the nearest town, and dropped it into the post- 
 office. An hour later the mail-carrier was carry- 
 ing the message back to Hillsdale. 
 
 A thunderbolt out of a clear sky could not 
 have produced a greater consternation than this 
 message. A new minister bringing his bride, 
 and no kind of adequate preparation made for a 
 proper reception ! The village instantly deter- 
 mined to show itself equal to the occasion, and 
 was astir at daybreak. 
 
 Fowl were beheaded without any preliminary 
 examination of character. A keen competition 
 was aroused as to who could cook the greatest 
 number and variety of pies and cakes on so 
 short a notice. 
 
 The exhorter was appointed to give the ad- 
 dress of welcome. By a misnomer this brother 
 
"Til 
 
 THE VILLAGE JOKER. 
 
 173 
 
 was commonly known as the exhaunter. Tlie 
 suitability of the title was self-evident, and in 
 connnon parlance was retained. He had the 
 peculiar trift of exhausting; in one sermon Hills- 
 dale's Job-like stock of patience. 
 
 He often said his text would be from Genesis 
 to Revelation somewhere, more or less. He 
 made exception of texts which involved hard 
 pronunciations, it was observed as a rule, after 
 the famous occasion when he had gone astray on 
 the beggars' skins, which he had freely used to 
 denote the cruelty of a bygone age. He was 
 not really one of the higher critics, but had 
 missed the term badgers, freely rendering it 
 beggars. 
 
 Brother Rogers the exhorter then spent the 
 day looking over his collection of sermons, and 
 at length settled down on the theme of the 
 '* Prodigal Son." The reference to the killing of 
 the fatted calf he considered very appropriate 
 for the occasion. 
 
 Everyone was so busy with his or her part in 
 the programme, no one thought of sending Agnes 
 word until late in the afternoon. Mrs. Rogers 
 sent her girl Sally to ask for the loan of some 
 table linen to grace the august occasion. 
 
 Sally was breathless with excitement and 
 importance when she reached her destination. 
 
 Ill 
 
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 ii 11' 
 
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 174 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 Little by little Agnes learned the story of the 
 minister's coming with his bride. Agnes, remem- 
 bering Sally's natural propensity to enlarge upon 
 what she saw and heard, was hel])ed to overcome 
 a faintness she felt for the first time in her life. 
 
 She went into an adjoining room, kneeled 
 down before an old-fashioned dresser, pulled out 
 the lowest drawer, turned over with ice-cold, 
 trembling fingers the beautiful linen which had 
 been among her gifts to her mother, until she 
 came to the finest. She sent Jean with it to 
 Sally, ind went to her room to face this new 
 experience. How it could be she did not stop 
 to ask, but that it was so was beyond doubt. 
 
 Neither did she ask herself if she loved 
 Horace Harding. Her heart was breaking. 
 " Oh ! that unfortunate letter. If only I had 
 not written it ! " she moaned. " I can never 
 stay here and see him." It was quite Jusk 
 when she stole down stairs and told the wonder- 
 ing Jean they must start for the city the next 
 day. 
 
 Jean could not help shedding tears of dis- 
 appointment, but she bravely hid them from her 
 friend. 
 
 In the village disappointment also reigned. 
 
 During the afternoon a long line of rigs filed 
 out of the village to the nearest railway station. 
 
 M. 
 
i i' 
 1 
 
 THE VILLAGE JOKER. 
 
 175 
 
 At the head was a waggon on which was a 
 small organ to take the place of a brass band. 
 Next in order came a single rig decked with 
 white wedding favors for Horace Harding and 
 his bride. 
 
 Many curious eyes watched the train when it 
 halted. Some wondered if " she " would be 
 " tall " or " short," "stuck up" or "just ordinary." 
 " Black or white," said Charlie Baxter, the most 
 interested spectator of them all. 
 
 As Horace Harding swung off the train, grip- 
 sack in hand, the sight of the people warmed 
 his heart and quickened his pulsations. His 
 great warm heart appreciated the kindly motive 
 prompting this reception. He remembered the 
 Roman Christians who came out on the famous 
 Appian Way to meet Paul, and was glad to 
 think the spirit of fellowship and broth rhood 
 had not left the world. 
 
 His greeting was even more cordial than 
 theirs, yet his keen perception detected a feeling 
 of disappointment which at first puzzled him. 
 When Sister Rogers, who was very anxious to 
 introduce her husband on the stage of action as 
 soon as possible, ventured to inquire where 
 Sister Harding was, Rev. Horace Harding under- 
 stood in a measure the situation. 
 
 With a careless laugh he assured them she 
 was coming. 
 
176 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 " She can receive herself then," said Mrs. 
 Rogers in a bitter undertone. 
 
 Brother Rogers was so unnerved by the 
 absence of the blushing bride he made more 
 than the usual number of blunders. Much to 
 the merriment of Charlie Baxter, he referred in 
 one place to the reverend gentleman as the fatted 
 calf, whom they would like to have killed years 
 and years ago had they known in time. 
 
 The proposed reference to the bride, as she 
 was absent, had to be changed on the spur of the 
 moment, and the result, through Bro. Rogers's 
 palpitation, was an introduction of the swine in 
 a far country, on whose neck they fain would 
 fall and kiss them. Tliis reference was for Mrs. 
 Harding, and of course, as things were going, 
 both metaphorical and ludicrous, it made a 
 great memory for Baxter. 
 
 Bro. Rogers closed by expressing the hope 
 that the truth Bro. Harding might preach to 
 them would not be like water on a duck's back, 
 running in one ear and out the other. 
 
 All the way back Horace Harding, as he 
 flicked the white favors on the horse's head, 
 mused on which one of the crowd was " she." 
 He had picked on Mrs. Blodgett, whom Billy 
 Watson had considerately driven over to the 
 station aud who was badly twisted with the 
 
THE VILLAGE JOKER. 
 
 177 
 
 " roomat/ics," caused, she explained, by thought- 
 less men trying to open up the North Pole. 
 
 It was a beautiful evening in June. 
 
 When the feast was over and the men had 
 departed to do their chores, Horace Harding 
 slipped away from the clatter of tongues and 
 dishes to enjoy, in contrast to the closeness of 
 the city, the wideness of sky and field. 
 
 He revelled ao;ain in the memories of his 
 boyhood. 
 
 He had not gone far when he observed the 
 road he was following must be the one leading 
 to the home of the Saint. He had satisfied 
 himself she was not at the supper, and his 
 curiosity was aroused. " Why not see this ogress 
 at once ? " he said aloud as he hastened his steps 
 for fear the thrifty custom of early hours might 
 prevent the interview he wished over as quickly 
 as possible. 
 
 The lingering twilight soon revealed to him 
 a vine-clad house and a trim lawn, the atmos- 
 phere of which was redolent with the gratifying 
 perfume of flowers. In the shadow of a wide 
 porch he could discern the outlines of a woman's 
 figure. A moment later ho had grasped a soft 
 firm hand, and was greatly puzzled by the lew- 
 spoken salutation. 
 
 " You have sent for me," he said, when for an 
 12 
 
178 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 instant Jean's light fell from a wide open 
 window full on Agnes's tear-stained face. 
 " Agnes ! " Both her hands were in his posses- 
 sion. " You are not a saint, you are the spirit 
 of mischief ! " 
 
 She tried to release her hands, and forced her 
 trembling lips to ask, " Where is your bride ? " 
 
 " Here, I hope," replied the Rev. Horace 
 Harding, joyfully kissing her lips. 
 
 No one was near to supply the missing ex- 
 planations, but the two happy lovers " knew 
 some one had blundered." 
 
 Before leaving, Horace Harding ingeniously 
 proposed to bring his wife to Hillsdale in a day 
 or two. 
 
 " Marry in haste so as to have plenty of time 
 to repent," Agnes gaily answered. 
 
 Within a month the old stage, with every 
 spoke in the wheels making an independent 
 clatter, rolled up to the parsonage door. 
 
 When Horace Harding handed Agnes out and 
 introduced her as his wife, Charlie Baxter, after 
 one moment of dismay, mentally resolved to 
 pack up his tools and go out of the business of 
 practical joker. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THEORIES EXPLODED. 
 
 Some years after the events recorded in the 
 preeedmg chapter, in a well-appointed study sat 
 
 h.!d 7;. w °™'' ^'''■'^'"^ ^"^^g "^^ address 
 headed Woman SufFrage." It was evident his 
 
 enthusiasm grew with his advocacy. He would 
 nse walk the floor, thrust his fingers through 
 h.s ha,r, and as a good thought took to itself a 
 definite form, smile and resume his writing. 
 
 Without warning,^the door wa.s rudely thrown 
 open, and curly-headed, black-eyed six-year-old 
 Harry came in as if he had been projected from 
 the mouth of a cannon. " Papa, what is a bench- 
 show ? he shouted, with the full tones of a 
 healthy pair of lungs. 
 
 The boy held in his nand a dilapidated news- 
 paper, and was eyeing with great interest pic- 
 tures of prize dogs. 
 
 His scholastic attainments were just sufficient 
 
 sw" ^ '^'" ^'^""^'^ ^'"'^' «-''-°-^ 
 
 •12 
 
 I 
 
180 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 " Bench-show, Harry ? " interrogated Horace 
 Harding, suspiciously. 
 
 New ideas with Harry meant new escapades. 
 Harry's innocency of expression would have 
 deceived a Pinkerton detective. 
 
 His father furnished him with a brief ex- 
 planation. 
 
 Harry's violent slamming of the door as he 
 retired drew from the fond parent tlic comment : 
 " A perfect boy ! " Harry further proved his 
 perfection by resolving to have a bench-show. 
 Many were the animated and whispered con- 
 sultations held with juvenile owners of dogs in 
 the immediate neighborhood. Out of these con- 
 sultations grew the definite plan of having a 
 dog-show in what was known as the "double 
 decker," a summer house built on the side of the 
 terrace behind the parsonage. It had two apart- 
 ments ne above and one below. " You see, we 
 will ha^ ' plenty of benches," Harry explained 
 to the boys. 
 
 Each boy was to bring his dog. 
 
 " Twelve dogs would not make a show : we 
 must make a show of the dogs," Harry said, in a 
 tone of superiority. 
 
 It was decided furthermore that each boy was 
 to bring along as many of his personal effects as 
 maternal viirilaiice would allow. 
 
mrnqp" 
 
 THEORIES EXPLODED. 
 
 181 
 
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 las 
 
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 "Papa said Mrs. Outings made a perfect show 
 of herself in her new spring bonnet," Harry 
 added sugoestively. Jack Jenkins remembered 
 his father remarking one Sunday morning, the 
 tall thing on his mother's hat was too showy for 
 a church member. 
 
 These sug-o-estions bore fruit, inasmuch as each 
 exhibitor privately formed the determination not 
 to be outdone in the matter of head-gear for 
 his dog. 
 
 The completed plan included a band to enliven 
 the proceedings of the show. Tin pans were to 
 be improvised into drums and clanging cymbals. 
 Survivals of Christmas-day wreckage, in the 
 form of horns and whistles, took on a new 
 interest, and were valuable to the degree of noise 
 they made. The combination of liiedley and 
 chaos was melodious in the extreme to the 
 juvenile ear. 
 
 The following Saturday afternoon a miscella- 
 neous collection of boys and dogs were gathered 
 in the parsonage garden. 
 
 To accomplish his object each boy had wrig- 
 gled, dodged, and squeezed through difficulties 
 which would have daunted older heads. Various 
 Strang*' bundles })espoke a triumph of intrigue. 
 
 As Sammy Wellman slipped out of the back 
 gate, his mother observed, self-complacently, 
 
182 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 "Sammy was thriving better than any other 
 child of her acquaintance. Some people do not 
 know how to care for children ; " and she sighed 
 over the ignorance which would have been uni- 
 versal but for one precious exception. Now the 
 truth was, Sammy had put on his entire outfit 
 of trousers. His Sunday best, his seconds, and 
 his every-day's were all on. 
 
 Johnny Shaw had been baffled in securing 
 the spring millinery, but was master of the 
 occasion in the retreat with his grandfather's 
 plug hat in an old musty tin pail. With com- 
 mendable forethought he had appropriated one 
 of his sister Jennie's hat-pins, with which he 
 hoped to fasten the hat on the head of his Spitz 
 do^. Safely out of sight, he stopped to experi- 
 ment for effect. The striking resemblance be- 
 tween Gyp so attired and the owner of the hat 
 made Johnny chuckle immoderately. 
 
 To array the dogs was no small undertaking. 
 The dogs of the luckiest boys were attired in 
 two pairs of trousers. Where no convenient 
 rent accommodated the tail, one was made, with- 
 out a thought of future reckoning. 
 
 The variety of head-gear outshone the splen- 
 dor of Easter Sunday. When fully attired, the 
 dogs were coaxed or driven into the lower apart- 
 ment of the summer-house. 
 
THEORIES EXPLODED. 
 
 183 
 
 A small contingent of boys were detailed to 
 keep order among the now excited dogs. The 
 rest were all members of the band, and with 
 their musical instruments repaired to the upper 
 apartment. The music was struck up with 
 youthful vigor, and the hideous din was an- 
 swered by a more hideous howl from below. 
 
 The show had commenced in earnest, and the 
 boys' delight was boundless. Another crescendo 
 run produced another prolonged howl. Crash ! 
 crash ! went liie band. 
 
 Every dog fell upon his neighbor, and was 
 worrying him for an explanation. 
 
 The boys shrieked, pounded, whistled. 
 
 Harry happened to spy, through a crevice in 
 the floor, his little black-and-tan getting the 
 worst of a fray with Sammy's skye-terrier. 
 
 Each boy now championed the cause of his 
 own dog. In the melee one dog, with a leap and 
 a bound, cleared the terrace ; the lawn and the 
 low fence were soon behind him. 
 
 Another and another followed. 
 
 Each dog, maddened by his unusual trappings, 
 ran as for life from its pursuer. Behind the 
 dogs panted a dozen hooting urchins. 
 
 In the height of the confusion Agnes, who 
 had been down town, rushed into her husband's 
 study to demand an explanation of the noisy 
 
184 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
 proceedings, and found the dignified Horace 
 Harding rolling on the floor in a fit of uncon- 
 trolled laughter. He had been watching the 
 whole programme from his study window. 
 
 Agnes's protesting words and looks of unmiti- 
 gated horror but added fuel to the flame of his 
 merriment. 
 
 " That boy was born to be a leader," he man- 
 aged to gasp. '•' To see the head-gear resolving 
 into original chaos was comedy such as I have 
 never seen." 
 
 " Oh, Horace ! Horace ! " Agnes exclaimed, as 
 she ran upstairs to quiet little Agnes's cries of 
 fright. 
 
 As we take our last glimpse of this happy 
 family, we see Agnes tenderly caring for her 
 little ones. She does look, however, with 
 troubled eyes at the dangerous road, trap set as 
 it is, over which their young feet will have to 
 travel. 
 
 She well understands how tempting the king- 
 doms of this world and the glory of them are. 
 The kingdoms of pleasure, of wealth, of fame, 
 may be legitimate when in their proper pro- 
 portion in relation to those things which are 
 running parallel with eternity. If Satan had 
 the temerity to tempt Christ to their possession 
 by the short cut across corners, — " All these will 
 
THEORIES EXPLODED. 
 
 185 
 
 I give thee if thou wilt fall down and worship 
 me " — HO surely will he tempt the little ones. 
 
 When Mother Nature, forgetting for awhile 
 her sternest moods, arrays herself in her gayest 
 dress, and puts on her smiling face, Agnes and 
 the children go to the old Hillsdale home. It 
 has become a house beautiful indeed, because 
 they care for someone who is in need and who 
 is a brother or sister for Christ's sake. 
 
 Horace Harding we leave busily engaged in 
 problems set him by the boy, the father of the 
 man. To satisfy the oft repeated and urgent 
 request, " What is the largest number in the 
 world ? " he had one day, in a fit of desperation, 
 made on the boy's slate the sign of infinity. 
 Just as the curtain falls the boy is back, holding 
 out the slate and saying, " Just one thing more, 
 papa. Please WTite the next lowest figure to 
 the greatest one in the world." 
 
 But it is thoughts of greater moment than 
 these which have put the marks on this man's 
 brow and the silver threads in his hair. He 
 has heard the questionings which have shown 
 the movement of the spiritual nature of his 
 children. " Is there a floor in heaven, papa ? " 
 " No, my child." " What does God stand on, 
 then, papa ? " 
 
 He knows that as (Edipus sought to solve the 
 
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186 
 
 CLIPPED WINGS. 
 
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 riddle of the Sphinx, in like manner will the 
 boy, according to his standards in life, seek to 
 solve the world's riddle of success. He is 
 striving to set the small feet into the prints left 
 on the shores of time by the God-man. 
 
 He is warning him, as years are added to his 
 life, that to seek the approval of man in prefer- 
 ence to the approbation of Qod, is to bring ever- 
 increasing sacrifices to the maw of a voracious 
 monster who, when satiated and gorged, sleeps a 
 digesting sleep, and wakes to hunger — a mon- 
 ster's hunger — and issues a monster's edict. 
 
 Perchance the deliverance may be favorable, 
 and the boy will have won his cause through 
 the utterance of public sentiment, public opinion, 
 popular opinion. But let there be untiring 
 vigilance in tickling the palate of this deity, 
 with the face of a man and grimalk in body, 
 lest some unsavory morsel offend his fickle 
 appetite and he turn again to rend his former 
 favorite. 
 
 We bring our little book to a close, caring only 
 to have it true to the standards of righteousness, 
 rather than the utterance of public opinion, 
 which can only consign it to one of two deaths. 
 It may be that a death from a painless oblivion 
 is to be preferred to the throes of the dual 
 death of criticism and praise. 
 
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