Class y6 6 50 3 
 
 Copyright ]^«.__li^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
DREAMS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LESSONS FROM THE POPPY FIELDS. 
 
 
 .v'i-^^pir^u., J 
 
 I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, 
 At the Sophist Schools and the learned clan ; 
 For what are they all, in their high conceit, 
 When man in the bush with God may meet?" 
 
 — Emerson. 
 
 " To die, to sleep ; 
 To sleep; perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub; 
 For in that sleep of death what dreams may come." 
 
 9^ fl^ 
 
 New York : 
 
 The Alliance Publishing Company, 
 
 "Life" Building. 
 
 igoi, 
 
 M 
 
L-ibreiry of Cocmresa 
 
 Two CcM^s WrcEnrEo 
 
 FEB 4 1901 
 SECoMoconr 
 
 s 
 
 Copyright, 1901. 
 
 by 
 The Author. 
 
 
 ]^6 
 
 ROONEY & OTTEN PRINTING CO. , 11 4-1 20 WEST 30th ST. , N. Y. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 To those dear friends giz'e)i by the All-JVise 
 to brighten by tlieir presence the pathivay of a fel- 
 low pilgrim, then by His xvisdoin promoted to the 
 higher life, where they shine as stars in the spiritual 
 sky of that yet lingering pilgrim, this book is affec- 
 tionately inscribed. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 DEV'ELOPMENT THE PROMISE OF IMMORTALITY. 
 
 The crown of the world is life. Without appre- 
 ciative life all the blessings which, bountiful as the 
 sunshine, make this world delightful, are purpose- 
 less and nameless. Life is like an ^-Eolian harp, 
 blessing the gentle zephyrs that, silent and unseen, 
 float on until the living chords are reached, then 
 wake in melting melody. 
 
 Most delicate and complex, man's nature has 
 chords found in no other. Wit rouses his mirth, 
 beauty awakes his love, while height and depth, ex- 
 tent and power, rousing his deepest soul to ecstasy, 
 intoxicate him with the sublimest. Woe excites his 
 pity ; loving benevolence and gratitude go hand in 
 hand, while sympathy weeps for another's sorrow 
 and laughs at another's joy. Well did England's 
 mighty bard exclaim: "What a piece of work is 
 man ! how noble in reason ! how infinite in faculties ! 
 in form and moving, how express and admirable ! 
 in action, how like an angel ! in apprehension, how 
 like a god ! the beauty of the world ! the paragon of 
 animals ! " A king in a world so peculiarly adapted 
 to his gratification and development that neither its 
 position nor path in the universe nor its physical 
 resources and conformations might sufifer change 
 without detriment — in the midst of a career of ap- 
 parently unlimited progress, just as he begins to ap- 
 
8 Dreams. 
 
 predate and utilize the l)lessings which surround 
 him, cut off by death, man has always been a prob- 
 lem and a mystery. 
 
 Gigantic minds of all ages have put forth titanic 
 efforts to unravel the mystery of life ; still it stands 
 towering in gloom, the sphinx of time, heedless of 
 the human sand sifting over its base. 
 
 Unsolvable questions of destiny are piled one 
 above another, like strata on the mountain side. We 
 see only the edges, but know not how vast their ex- 
 tent. Among all the qualities common to humanity 
 one there is so predominant through every stage of 
 life, and when taken in connection with the other 
 great truths of creation so pregnant that it seems to 
 span the dark chasm of death and promise a world 
 beyond. That quality is the systematic unfolding of 
 powers— <levelopment. It is the underlying effect 
 toward which unconscious infancy and ambitious 
 youth strive. It crowns manhood ; and when hoary 
 age sleeps, to wake no more, it is the true measure 
 of life's success. But why is development so preg- 
 nant? Because it involves a purpose, an end to- 
 wards whose accomplishment it tends. Because, 
 also, the whole course of creation, both animate and 
 inanimate, was an unfoldment culminating in man ; 
 and at his death broken, apparently, short off. 
 
 The lifeless earth reached its present state of 
 beauty and fitness by a series of steps upward, un- 
 ceasing and resistless. The unfolding of the rose is 
 not more marked with purpose and system than the 
 unfolding from the earliest species entombed in the 
 
Dreams. 9 
 
 stratification to the modern quickening earth, air 
 and ocean. Consider now, together with the pecu- 
 liar fitness of the world for man's home, and man 
 for its ruler, that he is and always has been its sov- 
 ereign, and the conclusion must follow that the stu- 
 pendous changes undergone were for man. 
 
 Man rules well. Sophocles says: "There are 
 many terrible things, but nothing more terrible than 
 man. He comes from across the hoary sea in the 
 stormy winds, passing through the waves surging 
 all around, and vexes even the favored lands of the 
 gods by ploughing them from year to year. Adven- 
 turous man takes flocks of fickle birds, and tribes of 
 wild beasts and creatures of the sea, in well-woven 
 nets. By his contrivance he controls the mountain- 
 ranging, shaggy-necked beasts of the forest, and 
 trains the horse and mountain bullock, unwearied by 
 the neck-encircling yoke. All-inventive man has 
 learned words and swift thought, and social dispo- 
 sition, and how to shun the darts of uncomfortable 
 frosts under the clear sky and in grievous storms of 
 rain. There is nothing that is future that he has 
 not some plan and way of attaining. Death alone 
 he cannot escape." 
 
 Exertion is man's scepter, and exertion is devel- 
 opment. But is it as a species or as individuals? 
 From tongue to tongue, from sire to son. on tablets 
 of wood, of copper and bronze, on parchment and 
 paper, the wisdom of the ages has come down to the 
 present. But have we developed as species ? Every 
 man begins as low now as ever before. Read the 
 
lo Dreams. 
 
 most ancient literature, the l)ook of the Bible and 
 Homer, and be convinced that " there were giants 
 then." 
 
 We cannot transcend the laws of genius. We are 
 developed as individuals. The path from the cradle 
 to the grave is written all over with one word — 
 growth. It follows every act, every thought like a 
 shadow ; but suppose manhood reached, does devel- 
 opment stop? No! It stops not till this trembling 
 heart ceases to throb. Shall inanimate matter be 
 crowned with intelligence? Shall intelligence be 
 crowned with development, and shall development 
 cease? No! Development is a chain whose end is 
 unknown. It began with the foundation of the 
 world, it reaches into the unknown, but reason feels 
 it is sustained. 
 
CHAPTER L 
 
 I, Abdacates, who have been, was not, yet am, 
 walked with Josephus, my friend, whose wisdom of 
 ages is such tliat he is. 
 
 I, Abdacates, am dark and sinewy as the race 
 from which I came. Mine eyes seek the stars. The 
 hot breath of the desert an incense sweet to my nos- 
 trils is. As an ern in flight, so on the earth my feet 
 are. 
 
 Josephus is old ; yes. very old, so that for wis- 
 dom there are like him few. His hair white as 
 snow upon the mountain, on his shoulders as a 
 downy mantle falls ; also his beard to the girdle of 
 his purple robe. Long had we desired together to 
 journey afar, whether iii the cool of the morn, or 
 evening, or in the brightness of high noon we knew 
 not ; for one wiser than we, as the sun to the star 
 is brighter, had hitherto work, or rather joys called 
 work, or work whose name is joy. for us. 
 
 Now sent he one whom he is pleased to call the 
 glory of his brightness. At his coming all thmgs 
 took on a brighter hue. The pink and white wild 
 rose, the pale forget-me-not. the dove and singing 
 bird, all sweet, shy things, his presence seek. All 
 such as are hurt or caught in a snare come, or aloud 
 do crv, for his name is Peace. He a healing is, all 
 nations to — the glory of him whose name is Love. 
 He speaks, his voice as honey in the comb, as the 
 
12 Dreams. 
 
 perfume of ten thousand spices sweeter. So said 
 he, " Thy wish is known, Abdacates, the strong; 
 also that of thy friend Josephus, the wise. He that 
 considereth his servant as a child wishes thee all 
 speed upon thy way. 
 
 " Thou art quick to see, thy friend a hand to write 
 hath ; also wisdom to guide ; therefore may thy 
 journey be profitable to thee and those whom thou 
 shall greet;" and he blessed us in the name of Him 
 whose name is Love. And in the day-star of his 
 brightness we departed ; Josephus with is script 
 and staff, I, who am strong of limb and keen of eye, 
 by his side. Azure was the dome above us, green 
 was the grass our feet beneath, and soft to feel as 
 fleecy billows of the cloud on summer breezes lightly 
 floating; and rivulets like gleaming silver ran with 
 rippling murmur to the sea, through flower-gemmed 
 banks of tender beauty and voices sweet as songs 
 of bulbul or coomg of mourning doves were heard 
 within cool shadows of the lofty trees that waved 
 their branches russet and clapped their leafy hands 
 of verdant hue. bedecked with liquid drops of crystal 
 dew as though in salutation of that glorious orb that 
 cast warm, vivifying glances, e'en as in days gone 
 long as men count time, when he, the day-god looked 
 and smiled on living, leaping waters of the Nile in 
 Egypt's slumberous land. 
 
 Then the world was a babe and men were also 
 babes in wisdom, not attaining to the knowledge of 
 the Good whose name is Love. Mayhap they, my 
 brethren, were fierce and wild; a secret 'tis, I'll tell 
 
Dreams. 13 
 
 it not, nor vex with ancient dreams the glowing 
 luster of the present day. 
 
 Now it befell as we journeyed we beheld a city 
 fair, with turrets high and low-thatched roofs and 
 many a spire-crowned building, to which presently 
 a host repaired. They walked slow-stepped and 
 heavily, so we were much concerned, for it was long 
 since we had looked upon the habitations of the 
 children of the good, who dwelt upon this dainty 
 emerald orb, the earth, which some benighted ones 
 think, or appear to think, the universe. And we 
 amazed were, for in all things men did differ much 
 from what we knew when we ourselves did dwell 
 with them. And so we sought some one to tell us 
 the meaning of that which we uncomprehending 
 saw. But when we spake they were as though they 
 heard us not — a most unkind discourtesy, we 
 thought, to those wdio yet were strangers. 
 
 Presently we did observe a man of most benign 
 appearance whom we thought amused at our most 
 troublous mishap. He also appeared to be invisible 
 to them, although he was a man of no mean pres- 
 ence and did wear a most engaging countenance, 
 whom, when Josephus did behold, he filled was with 
 wondrous rapture, and I did learn they kindred were 
 when on this little vale they tarried. Jacob, so his 
 name was called ; he, too, had come to learn 
 new lessons from its mystic lore, and like Josephus 
 and myself did long to help some of its struggling 
 children toward a happier way than that wherein 
 they toiled with burdens heavy. And he did kindly 
 
14 Dreams. 
 
 undertake the task of teaching us the customs of the 
 present habitants. He here had been a longer time 
 and was learned in all their curious vagaries. 
 
 Considering us he did advise that we repair unto 
 some place more solitary, that we might learn to 
 clothe ourselves with the necessary material pres- 
 ence to visible become to those who did surround 
 us ; for now we knew we were to them " impalpable 
 and thin as viewless air." 
 
 So we did seek a place wherein to gain the more 
 material substance. It was near a city by the sea 
 that we did pitch our tent and wait till the perfected 
 time for our appearing. Many came and joined our 
 company. That power had Jacob, our host and 
 friend, to draw unto himself those who were seek- 
 ing knowdedge; and most kindly did he entreat his 
 visitors and gave to drink sweet draughts from that 
 well of wisdom which he held as his most ancient 
 right. Som.e who came were fair of face and wise 
 of mind, with the wisdom^ of this latter day. Others, 
 dusky-browed, and of an older race who did bear 
 more the semblance of mine own earthly brethren. 
 And many of these did never clothe themselves 
 with the garment of mortality. As for myself, as 
 grew that garment on my lithesome limbs, my spirit 
 yearned to leave the vasty waters and seek some des- 
 ert place, with drifting, golden sands and peaceful 
 quiet, there to rest me on my mantle and look up 
 into the starry heavens and to hear again the still 
 voices of its mighty solitude. But not for this T 
 came, but to learn a lesson new that I might teach 
 
Dreams. 15 
 
 my brethren who continually do come unto that 
 home, from which I journeyed lately! also, it might 
 be, those who came to us from the cottages and pal- 
 aces of that city by the sea. 
 
 We grew upon their sight as some strange mys- 
 tery. Thou the tale shalt hear and lessons learn as 
 did those who, urged by curious spirit, our presence 
 sought and gathered golden grain from out the 
 storehouse of our imagery, and 'tis written on mem- 
 ory's living tablets. For ever by my side doth stand 
 the royal scribe, Josephus, and his pen is winged and 
 diamond-tipped. Moreover, if thou dost listen well 
 it may be thou shalt hear an echo from among oiy 
 many pupils; and some there be whose voices ring 
 with blessed notes, as silver tongues in golden 
 throats. Such must surely be our white-robed one, 
 our Mary, and thus we hope thou too may'st catch 
 some bright-winged thought within the jeweled 
 meshes of a phantasy. 
 
 Abdacates. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 At a fam.ous resort noted for its beautiful scenic 
 effects and healthful, life-giving atmosphere, as well 
 as the unostentatious elegance of those who sought 
 its favored borders, for a time had met a party of 
 friends intent upon availing themselves to the ut- 
 most of its treasures of land and water. Boating 
 and fishing parties, picnics and excursions, music 
 
1 6 Dreams. 
 
 and dancing, with numerous innocent flirtations, af- 
 forded ample amusement for the younger members 
 of the company. While of the other ones, the gen- 
 tlemen indulged in learned political discussions, and 
 settled to their satisfaction many weighty problems 
 that, sad to say, are vexing yet the public mind. 
 Then there were wondrous stories of youthful ex- 
 ploits, hunting and piscatorial, such as are not 
 known at the present time, and are regarded with 
 amused tolerance as the omnipresent fish story of 
 this degenerate day. 
 
 The ladies also discussed many subjects of much 
 interest from their point of view. Matters of church 
 and home, and, bless their tender hearts, of worthy 
 charity, and lighter themes of dress and fashion. 
 They, too, had tales of youthful conquest, wherein 
 they netted fish of other nature; and it is greatly 
 to be feared that those who occupied most prominent 
 positions within those oft-told tales would not rec- 
 ognize themselves in the language-pictures that were 
 painted, such a glamour does distance cast upon the 
 mimic stage of memory. 
 
 Besides all this there was the never-faihng subject 
 upon which they grew most eloquent — the beauties 
 and the virtues of their children. Of most amiable 
 disposition and stupendous wisdom, they did lend 
 kindly sympathy unto each other's rhapsodies ; and 
 yet within their hearts did form the thought : 
 
 " O wad some power the giftie gie us. 
 To see oursels as ithers see us," 
 
Dreams. 17 
 
 The superficial observer was filled with wonder as 
 to where those favored children obtained their won- 
 drous beauty and supernal wisdom. Ah, well! love 
 is blind, and this is only one of the happy phases of 
 its blindness; for well it is that there are some to 
 cast the mantle of their charity over all our faults 
 and frailties. 
 
 Thus, in harmless gossip and amusement, the 
 time was passed until o«e day a more absorbing 
 topic of interest was introduced; for, be it known, 
 that into this most exclusive place had come, whence 
 no one could say, a certain encampment. They had 
 pitched their tents in a secluded spot, down by the 
 sounding sea. Why tents, when the city was so well 
 supplied with most excellent hostelries? Why sought 
 they this unsocial solitude? Quiet and unobtrusive 
 as they were, strange stories were told of their opu- 
 lence and most barbaric splendor ; of hospi- 
 tality and unfailing charity! Moreover, they were 
 reported as persons of pleasing, though peculiar, ap- 
 pearance, and were said to be possessed of great 
 learning and much wisdom of most occult character; 
 so that the unlearned, yes, many of the learned, who 
 sought their audience, were wont to converse regard- 
 ing them in awed, mysterious whisperings. 
 
 Society was filled with speculation and surmise 
 concerning them, though there were none, from the 
 least to the greatest, that could say but they had met 
 with the utmost courtesy and gentle kindliness from 
 these strange sojourners in a strange land. Wealth 
 and position no more disturbed their calm serenity 
 
i8 Dreams. 
 
 than did piteous, cringing poverty. They surely 
 (hd appear to be in r.owise respecters of the person, 
 but (Ud seem to strip the husk from off the person- 
 ahty of their consultant, as ancient Egyptian did 
 hc'pe to unwind, in future days, the binding" cloths 
 from the mummied casement restored to active, pul- 
 sating life by the undying flame that slumbered in 
 that casement. 
 
 Thus did they imwind the many conservative 
 bindings from the personality of the naked, shiver- 
 ing ego that they sought. So fascinating is any- 
 thing of a mysterious nature that they had become 
 most popular, and yet more to be desired, fashion- 
 able teachers of the people. So of the many lessons 
 taught some few were caught within the pages of 
 this late-written book of allegory. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Why_, my friend, that strange look, as if thy spirit 
 were far away leaving only the vacant tenement? 
 Seest thou some vision dark ? The balmy air kisses 
 the tall tree-tops and wafts itself in tender sighs to- 
 ward the vernal hills where peaceful sheep, a snowy 
 flock, are nibbling its mossy verdure. E'en swallows 
 fly with silent wings across the azure of the sky, and 
 rippling waves beat soft melody upon the shore this 
 blissful hour. 
 
 All nature seem.s to feel a deep content this Sab- 
 
Dreams. 19 
 
 bath morn, and hark ! the church bell's clear, peal- 
 ing chimes fall with joyous tone upon the ear, call- 
 ing men and women forth to worship at the altar of 
 the Blessed One who came to seek and save the lost. 
 
 Happy children, hand in hand, go there to sing 
 the praise of that sweet babe, in a manger born, 
 whose star is that most beauteous Bethlehem. Look 
 how bright their faces are, almost like the little ones, 
 one might fancy, that He took in His arms and 
 blessed in that distant time when He rebuked His 
 stern disciples standing near, who would have the 
 fond mothers and their little ones away. How gently 
 his arms enfolded, how sweet his smile, how kind 
 his loving voice to these fluttering, timid nestlings 
 of the earth. 
 
 " Look not so sad, dear friend, behold and rejoice 
 at the glad tidings these pictures bring ; or, if thou 
 wilt, tell me what vision thou dost see that hath cast 
 its shadow on all the gracious fairness of thy coun- 
 tenance." 
 
 " Yea, child of my heart, the picture is lovely, 
 happy and full of joy; well canst thou voice its 
 varied sounds and paint its brightest hues. The 
 vision that I saw differed much in light and shade, 
 and yet I fear it true. Shall I tell it thee? Perhaps 
 "twill sadder thy bright face and dim the sparkle of 
 thine eye. Wilt have it?" 
 
 " T, too, looked on the happy face of nature and 
 was glad ; glad as the ripples that did laugh to find 
 the shore so fair, or swallows which, borne unon the 
 ambient air, most graceful curves descry o'er hills of 
 
20 Dreams. 
 
 vernal green. But when the church hell's clear 
 sounding note fell on my ear and I heheld the happy 
 throng of children sent hy loving mothers' care to 
 learn of one most fair, then did I think of other lit- 
 tle ones on life's highway, upon whose infant brows 
 doth fall no mother's kiss ; who, hungry, sad and 
 footsore, roam the streets all the long day, striving 
 to gain a miserable pittance from the All-Father's 
 store and so sustain the childish life, so full of grief 
 and care, for whom no father cheerful toils, and with 
 fond counsel and caress makes glad their hearts at 
 close of day. But grown old in shame and sin, with 
 scanty garments that scarce shield their shivering 
 forms, with tear-drops frozen on their cheeks and 
 bare feet pattering on the stony pave, they cry to 
 hearts that not less stony are ; and if the hearts of 
 those who call upon his name so careless are, those 
 who claim to follow in his footsteps sure, thinkest 
 thou his arms less tenderly enfold these wild flowers 
 from his garden, who perish in their bloom? But if 
 perchance one attains to man's estate the shuddering 
 world is shocked by tale of ghastly crime, and cry 
 him shame, whom they have schooled in penury and 
 vice until his soul hath grown like beast of prey, a 
 warped distorted thing, which they hurl back into 
 the Great Giver's hand unfit for this world's strange 
 righteousness. Should one cry out, behold what 
 thou hast wrought, they say, ' Our hands are 
 clean, our rofces are white ; are we our brother's 
 keeper? ' Or, 'tis mayhap, a woman with face once 
 like a star in azure space, but grown a plague-spot 
 
Dreams. 21 
 
 and an ulcer, spreading her treacherous snares 
 abroad, laughing to scorn the cries of many broken 
 hearts and ruined homes." 
 
 As years creep on apace she meets a happy mother 
 and her child; something in the child's sweet face, 
 the mother's look of mingled wonder and of scorn, 
 mayhap, a struggling pity in her eyes, awake an- 
 other self to shame and loathing of what is, and 
 there is none to lift the drooping head and say, " Go, 
 thou, and sin no more." 
 
 The next day an empty shell is drawn from the 
 river bed ; its tenant — it hath flown ; and wives' 
 and mothers' hearts are glad the Magdalen is dead. 
 How so? Where is that sentient thing that called 
 that shell its home? Thinkest thou how fair an 
 adorning thy brother and thy sister are for the All- 
 Father's home ! All day they cry amid their black- 
 ness, " No man, O Lord, cared for my soul ; an out- 
 cast I from birth. O God, look not on me." 
 
 The vision changed and I saw an honest son of 
 labor, sinewy, strong; willingly he toiled to win the 
 bread for wife and child. So long as on the hearth 
 the fire did burn, contented he. On his wife's lips 
 was a song and in the child's tone a ripple of laugh- 
 ter was heard. A shadow swept athwart, and I saw 
 that that man no longer in the busy world held 
 place. 
 
 No fault of his, but of such as he there was a sur- 
 feit ; his pittance saved did gild some edifice of 
 Grace, or was as contribution given to benefit some 
 far-off, sin-begotten race. Despair was on his face, 
 
 ' i 
 
22 Dreams. 
 
 his hand was clenched, and in his heart a curse. His 
 wife — no song was on her hp — hut in her eye a tear ; 
 no fire upon the hearth, though the icy blast drove 
 fast the scurrying snowflakes past. The child, a pal- 
 lid shadow, cried, " Mother, does not our Heavenly 
 Father care ; we have no bread this Christmas day, 
 and has He none to spare?" 
 
 As this picture passed away there was a motley 
 throng, a most barbaric sight : A starving mother 
 and her starving child; old men with palsied hands 
 outstreched and women unto whose hearts the bitter 
 wormwood was entrancing sweet; and some whose 
 limbs had long the slavish shackles borne and were 
 weakened yet, for long prenatal years had worn 
 deep their rankling scars on mind and heart, and 
 they dreamed strange dreams of kindred and friends 
 gone, they knew not where ; for they were sold in 
 bondage long ago to till the soil which did yield its 
 treasures to another, to care for homes which ne'er 
 were theirs. 
 
 There were others yet, but not of these, that 
 dreamed of wigwam homes with the tree-hung, 
 wind-rocked cradle of the papoose brave, and of 
 wild deer and fleet-footed game, gone like misty 
 shadows of the past, to which their thoughts forever 
 turn, sad and lone. In savage ignorance they their 
 birthright sold and awoke too late to know that in 
 the land their fathers held they had no place. An 
 Ishmaelitish race are they from sire to son, and dark 
 vengeance hold against the fair invading band whose 
 treachery they now understand. Some shook the 
 
Dreams. 23 
 
 prison bars and raved and swore; and when within 
 the walls of Zion's house the well-kept flock knelt 
 down to pray there was a sullen moan that voicerl 
 itself among this outcast throng, and when the right- 
 eous ones arose to praise God for good estate, that 
 they were not as other men, even as that outcast 
 throng, then did there sound from out that throng 
 a wail of miglity woe, a cry to rend the heavens, and 
 I thought that cry reached first the Father's ear, be- 
 fore the prayer and song of praise. 
 
 Some there were in Zion's house that heard it 
 also, for there dwelt good men and true, only their 
 eyes were blinded by the multitude of lights, the 
 brightness of life, and the joys of peace and plenty, 
 so they saw not. Their ears also were deafened by 
 the cries of lo, here, or lo, there, or this is the way, 
 and the songs that were sung; but there were some 
 who both saw and heard and then did they recall 
 that long ago one said, and he spake as having au- 
 thority, " Not every one that saith unto me. Lord, 
 Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven ; but 
 he that doeth the will of my Father which is in 
 heaven." And they called to mind that he told them 
 plainly that the Father's will was that they should 
 visit the sick and the afflicted, the widows and the 
 fatherless, the hungry and the naked and those that 
 were cast into prison ; and their eyes being opened 
 they saw many such, they thought, among that out- 
 side throng, and they said to their brethren, those 
 that dwelt at peace in Zion's walls : " Look upon 
 our brother and sister, they are naked and hungry, 
 
24 Dreams. 
 
 bruised and cast down ; let us go out and help them 
 that they may arise." And they that heard were 
 amazed at him, and said : " We see it not and were 
 it so it were a sinful thing to war with powers that 
 ordained be." When again he that saw and heard 
 cried out yet more strongly, they said : " A mad 
 man thou, a heretic and a stirrer up of sedition ; why 
 clamorest thou against the e&tablished law of justice, 
 — thou causeth strife." Then they cast him out 
 among the multitude and he went his way, raising 
 the fallen, healing the sick, comforting the sad, 
 feeding the hungry, counseling with the erring; and 
 although they who cast him out said of him, as was 
 said of another in olden time, " He dwelleth with 
 outcasts and sinners," his spirit seemed ever to feel 
 the loving smile of Him who said, " Come unto me. 
 all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will 
 give you rest." The sunshine oi the Father dwelt 
 ever within his heart ; yet among those unto whom 
 he ministered there were many that rebuked him 
 and many who scorned. The thorn of ingratitude 
 pierced deeply, and ofttimes the flesh grew weak, but 
 he lifted his eyes to whence came his help, and 
 answered not again. -for he knew their utter weak- 
 ness through long ages past, that thew knew not 
 what manner of spirit they were of; yet the All- 
 Father knew, and so to reach the chords of music 
 buried deep within their hearts by cruelty and wrong 
 he still strove on that they yet might sound a pure 
 harmonious whole in song of praise, for the depths 
 of love the great Father bears unto his sons and 
 
Dr cants. 25 
 
 daughters all ; of which his own was but a faint re- 
 flection. So he soothed their sorrows and eased 
 their pains. 
 
 After a weary vigil he was found with a smile 
 of inefifable sweetness on his lips and on his pallid 
 brow a look as though the spirit witness, the Mes- 
 senger of Peace, the Comforter, had said, " It is well, 
 it is well with thy soul." 
 
 Then came they and said, " Behold how thin he 
 grew ; he gave his strength to others ; was that 
 wise? Hearest thou the wailing from the horrid 
 crew with whom he dwelt, and though he gave his 
 life for others, it was little good he did ; it were bet- 
 ter far that vermin such as they w^ere gone. A leader 
 should he have been in the brilliant world of intellect 
 and art, and living now instead of such a foolish 
 sacrifice to die for such as these." But others smote 
 upon their breasts and cried, " An angel unawares 
 he dwelt with us and now is gone. Greater love 
 hath no man than to give his life for another." 
 
 Straightway a costly monument for him was 
 builded, while those he loved still cried for bread. 
 
 " Dost thou like the picture, child? I fain would 
 have thee smile and wake me from this dream of 
 blind injustice." 
 
 " Nay, friend, I cannot smile. Too well I know 
 it is not all a dream, for even I have known of such 
 heartaches, mine own grows faint to think upon it ; 
 but T am helpless. What can I. a woman, do? Frail 
 and weak, my counsel food for laughter, or for pity's 
 smile; e'en should I speak, which much I fear to 
 
26 Dreams. 
 
 do." But the Master said, Not so; thy tender smile 
 and gentle Vv'ord shall touch many a broken heart 
 and brusied spirit as with a healing balm. Go forth, 
 thy message bear, and God will bless thy work, for 
 none may live or die unto himself alone, for unto 
 each the Father gives a message sweet to help their 
 kindred spirits here. Be wise and teach its import 
 grand to those who with you dwell, till, like the 
 pebble in the waters cast, the circle ever wider grows 
 until it reach an amplitude far beyond the throw- 
 er's ken ; so shall thy work its richest fruitage find 
 where thou hast little dream.ed. 
 
 Then to me he gave a quaint and curious casket, 
 saying, " Look well, dear daughter, on this casket 
 of pebbles, which I bring to thee ; though common 
 and sordid they appear, I do assure thee that their 
 rough, uncouth exterior hides many a precious gem 
 which, polished by the lapidary's art, would be fit 
 for queen's adorning, or king's ransom. 
 
 " Thus it is with the lessons of life ; those oft- 
 times deemed of little worth shall brightest luster 
 add to garnered wealth of all eternity. Do not de- 
 spair though clouds may lower and thou shalt hear 
 the sullen thunder roll, and mid murky blackness see 
 fitful lightning's flash. Be true to thy honest 
 thought ; so shall the storm cloud pass away and 
 thou shalt know that sweet serenity of soul that doth 
 reward those who fear not the coward's laugh or the 
 world's most sneering smile. The purest souls must 
 stand alone ; in coming years some may scale the 
 
Dreams. 27 
 
 mountain's rugged side and some pass on; then 
 they, too, shaU stand alone." 
 
 As he spoke a vision came before my eyes; I 
 found myself without volition of my own on a lone 
 mountain top where all was calm and still ; afar the 
 sun, a golden ball, was slowly sinking beneath clouds 
 of crimson and gold, which cast their bright reflec- 
 tions on the untrodden snow that lay in drifted 
 heaps around. A soothing breath of silence fell 
 upon my soul, a strange at-one-ness with the scene; 
 and then I found that night crept stilly on — a moon- 
 less, starry night. Soft shadows fell upon the world 
 of drifted whiteness and where erstwhile was crim- 
 son glow, caught from the brilliant sunset colors, 
 was now a dream of purity and peace ; yet I stood 
 alone and a still voice whispered to my spirit : "Thus 
 it is even with those rare ones of whom thou hast 
 often said, 'Oh, that I was as one of them; the 
 plaudits of the multitude they hear,' which thou 
 didst think an incense sweet; but now thou seest 
 that they stand alone with silence only their com- 
 panion fair, yet with that blessed at-one-ness with 
 nature in her varying moods, and in the great All- 
 Father's peace, in whom we live and move and have 
 our being 
 
 " Thou knowest, then, what will be thy lot if thou 
 shouldst choose any road that leads unto the moun- 
 tain top ; yet they have many pleasures who toil- 
 ing are for highest good, and upward look with a 
 child's unquestioning trust. They have in the All- 
 
28 Dreams. 
 
 Father's love a guerdon sweet, beyond what this 
 world can give. 
 
 " Looking down they behold the struggling ones 
 below ; then a spirit of tenderness like a mother's 
 love doth flood all their being and they rejoice 
 with those whose steps are firmly planted upon the 
 mountain's rugged side; and when they gain a van- 
 tage ground, the triumph also theirs. But when 
 shall one his steps retrace, or strives and yet falls, a 
 pity that is as winged pain thrills all their being 
 through, and to the All-Strength they cry aloud 
 that swift he send an emissary to assist the faltering 
 one, for his brother's loss he makes his own." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 To me again was shown a sleeping form, a great 
 spirit to whom God had given the care of life and 
 the soul of things. 
 
 When this I saw I cried to this strong spirit : 
 " Awake thou dreaming loveliness, thou Psyche 
 wake ! Too long hast thou slept thy marble couch 
 upon. The world hath need of thee. Open thine 
 eyes, arise ! Murder and war sound through the 
 land; Famine creeps swiftly on and Pestilence; 
 not such as fell upon the land from the insensate 
 h^nd of nature tliat l)lameless was. but famine of 
 Love and Kitidness ; scarce can I tell which to pity 
 most, the poverty of soul of him who sees his broth- 
 
Dreams. 29 
 
 er's shivering and worn frame and saddened, hope- 
 less face, liis tattered garment and toil-worn hands 
 dividing the scanty morsel he has gained by hours 
 of painful labor, taken from much needed rest. 
 Arismg early in his cheerless home and hurrymg 
 forth intent his food to win and fearing much some 
 other as needy as himself, with still greater vigilance, 
 may gain the vantage ground wherein he hoped to 
 earn his pittance. 
 
 " If such there be, a struggle then and strife as 
 when ravenous beasts snarl o'er the firstling of the 
 flock, which one has taken and the other craves. 
 Their poverty is great, but is it more than that of 
 him who doth fare sumptuously every day, for 
 whom the earth doth yield its treasures and golden 
 grain waves its ripened plenty from many smiling 
 fields, where the lark's sweet song is heard and sun- 
 shine's glowing warmth doth fall on purpling vine 
 that garners up its sweetness in many a luscious 
 cluster, wine-filled and for whom are fatlings slain, 
 the gorgeous fabric wove, to whom are brought 
 treasures of Art. of Poetry and Song to gild their 
 salon or bedeck their fleshly dwelling places? 
 
 " Sometimes for gewgaw baubles to gloat their 
 vanity upon, there is given that which would place a 
 sulifering one beyond wearing care and burden for 
 his short life, or fit some younger, stronger one 
 with armament to battle with the world which he 
 must face, or free the honest father from the haunt- 
 ing fear that should cruel fate befall and he a 
 mangled corpse be borne home his little ones must 
 
30 Dreams. 
 
 starve or torn be b}- stern necessity's relentless hand 
 from a mother's frail, tender clasp, and forced in 
 more fortunate but alien households, to gain a hard- 
 earned, ofttimes a grudged sustenance ; while for 
 love and sweet companionship the soul starves on. 
 
 " Think not I blame the pampered one whose lan- 
 guid gaze falls on these struggling ones with won- 
 drous amaze ; not so, his poverty is great. Where 
 are the 'broideries rich and rare, the vestments soft 
 and warm, woven the blessing from of him who to 
 perish ready was had he not found a friend in him? 
 What food shall his famished soul feed upon, grown 
 most fair, watered by widow's grateful tears and 
 fanned by the gleeful laughter of childish hearts 
 made glad and ripened in the sunshine of the All- 
 Father's smile? 
 
 " T fear me much his hapless, naked spirit will fare 
 but ill. So these two fam.ished ones, the one of 
 fleshly body, the other starved spirit-self doth war; 
 the one filled with burning envy, the other with cold, 
 withering scorn — a canker each. WHiile murder and 
 war come like a stealthy foe, neither sees nor pities 
 his l:)rother's sore distress, therefore do I cry unto 
 thee: 
 
 " Thou God-given One arise ! In ages past, in 
 the age that now is, and in ages yet to come, to thee 
 hast been given the power to see and know the true 
 and just. Yet in ages past thou wert young, and 
 mayhap like all who have not suffered, cruel ; but 
 now hast thou grown slothful and slumbereth while 
 on the sluggish air prophetic sounds of war's most 
 
Dreams. 3 1 
 
 savage note, of famine's wail is heard; and stealthily 
 robber's foot doth soundless fall, or the listening ear 
 doth catch the murderer's gloating croak o'er yellow 
 gold, while the sobbing of lust-devoured women and 
 wretched children's cry is borne on high. 
 
 " Arise in thy majesty and bring thy supernal 
 wisdom swift to bear upon these ills of life and quick 
 deliver from their grievous state the helpless ones 
 who call aloud for succor and redress." 
 
 While thus I cried for vengeance swift, the Mas- 
 ter smited, and in my hand he placed this golden 
 Trowel thou dost see, and so spake he : 
 
 " My child, clothe thyself in the white garment of 
 purity and take with thee this golden Trowel of Ap- 
 plication and search diligently for the hid treasure 
 that lieth in the heart of thy sister and thy brother, 
 which was given to each by the Great Father when 
 they left his spirit home to enter on the shifting 
 scenes of this world's varied experiences ; and I 
 know this, that here only can they find the recjuisite 
 qualities for the polishing of those most precious 
 jewels that are for their adorning when thev shall be 
 called hence to their Father's Mansion, to the great 
 jubilee. But the debris of the world and its lusts 
 have swept in upon them ; brutal sensuality, bestial 
 indulgence and besotted ignorance, some have 
 claimed ; and others who have kept their garments 
 white to look upon are eaten with blighting envy as 
 a mildew and some with an accursed thing, foul 
 slander's tongue, have dropped the poisoned torrent 
 of their words till, like the ocean's wave, thev have 
 
32 Dreams. 
 
 returned, washing their serpent's sHmy coils on 
 spirit self, and all jewels are buried tathoms deep. 
 
 "Search thou as for the hid treasure, for the Dia- 
 mond of Purity, the Emerald of Hope, the Topaz 
 of Wisdom, the Ruby of Love, the Pearl of Inno- 
 cence, the Amethyst of Sympathy and the Opal 
 which bears within its ever-changing heart of fire 
 the memory of days that are past into the misty 
 world of dreams. Finding these, do thou hasten 
 and with loving kindness bring to those who have 
 lost, and they shall receive them with much joy for, 
 although thou knowest not, many have sought with 
 bitter, unavailing tears what thou hast found. Per- 
 chance the voice of rejoicing may awaken the sleep- 
 ing Psyche on whom thou hast called; moreover, 
 thou shalt have added a lasting luster to the jewels 
 thou thyself shalt wear as thy breast-plaste, shield 
 and buckler. Neither shalt thou be afraid when thou 
 shalt cross the narrow bridge between this world of 
 vagaries and that beyond and enter the life of pure 
 realities. Thou shalt bind them upon thy brow and 
 they shall be a light to thy pathway, even a lamp to 
 thy feet. And the joyous songs of those whom thou 
 hast helped shall cheer thee until the music of the 
 golden cymbals shalt -fall upon thy listening ear, 
 and the welcoming hands of those thou lovest are 
 outstretched to greet thee, and thou art at home in 
 thy Father's kingdom, life's weary warfare o'er." 
 
 Then T saw an innumerable host clothed in gar- 
 ments of white with flowing folds of most transpa- 
 rent purity gleaming bright, led on by one whom 
 
Dreams. 3^ 
 
 once I deemed most fair and knew most true, and 
 on tlieir faces was the look that thou hast seen on 
 the face of one, when for a moment the spirit self 
 doth break its tleshly thrall with glowing light, and 
 then T knew the words he spake were true. So it 
 is that I ever strive the self's interior self to find, 
 that I may bring the lucid treasure forth and joy 
 me to make glad the brother's or sister's heart that 
 sadly wept o'er precious jewels lost. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 As a crystal fountain set in an emerald field cast- 
 ing upward its silvery spray, and each tiny globule 
 catching the sunbeam in its bosom, reflects the pris- 
 matic colors of the rainbow, and returning to the 
 fount whence it came takes with it the purify- 
 ing influences of the ethereal element with which it 
 was mingled, so each spirit that aspires to the un- 
 failing Sun of Righteousness doth catch and reflect, 
 each in its finite way, the infinite Love and Purity 
 of the All-Father ; and thus returning to its life and 
 associations brings with it, perhaps, unconsciously, 
 the strength and power to purify, in a measure, those 
 conditions in which it is placed. 
 
 This being so we may ever aspire after the high- 
 est, that we may grow into the likeness of our loving 
 elder brother, and become as evangels here upon 
 earth, bearing healing on our way. 
 
34 Dreams. 
 
 Methoughit of one I knew who had tried me sore. 
 Ofttinies had I lifted him from the pit into which he 
 had fallen, and as oft had he returned, until I said, 
 " I will not, for there remaineth no good in him." 
 But the voice said : 
 
 " No, yet again shalt thou deliver him, for he is 
 weak, yet he striveth and he shall gain strength; and 
 thou — a rich reward. For although his garment be 
 tattered and torn, when he ariseth he mendeth its 
 gaping rents v.-ith the cloth of earnest endeavor; and 
 presently the old garment shall disappear and he will 
 be clothed upon with a new garment of great resist- 
 ance, able to withstand the stinging sleet and drench- 
 ing rain of strong temptation. Thou hast observed 
 the rough exterior of the pearl-bearing mollusk, 
 which, when thou hast discovered its interior beauty, 
 thou no longer considereth its rough external, but 
 joy thee in the beauty of its concept — the lustrous 
 pearl. So when he is clothed upon with the garment 
 of earnest endeavor, thou shalt no longer remember 
 the tattered garment of fleshly weakness which he 
 was wont to wear, but rejoice in that to which he has 
 attained." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I, IN the spirit, saw a most beautiful sight. In the 
 soft gray sky of evening hung a star of wondrous 
 radiance, large and fair, which shone with a clear. 
 
Dreams. 35 
 
 white luster. From the side of the star came a dove 
 of snowy plumage and the voice said : 
 
 Behold the Star of Hope and the Dove of Peace ! 
 The star is even now shining for the children of 
 earth. The wise men have seen it in the east and 
 hail it as the day-star which will yet awake the chil- 
 dren of this life from the heavy apoplectic slumber 
 into which they have fallen. 
 
 The Dove of Peace goeth forth to see if the long, 
 dark years of superstition and wrong have vanished, 
 and she bringeth healing on her wings; and when 
 man shall cease to vex his brother man and oppress 
 his sister woman the Dove shall abide with them 
 and each shall seek the other's happiness rather than 
 his own. 
 
 Every one will be cared for as never before, for 
 each will s'trive for the other's highest good. The 
 spring-time of life shall be glad, for the love and 
 counsel of the wise will lead them through the pleas- 
 ant paths of learning under the tall trees of knowl- 
 edge and beside the bright rivers of wisdom. They 
 shall climb the high mountain of attainment and 
 pluck the sweet flowers of discovery. Their feet 
 shall press the soft turf of instruction and they shall 
 rest beside the great rock of Purity and grow strong 
 in the sunshine of Love. And when shall be found a 
 flower of supernal brightness all shall he glad, for it 
 will not be plucked to wither in one man's hand, but 
 he will hasten to call his fellow-travelers and they 
 together will rejoice and enjoy the new-found 
 treasure. 
 
36 Dreams. 
 
 When the clays of summer have come then will 
 each hasten to make glad the heart of the other in 
 joys of home where they nurture the little ones that 
 come to hear of the great pleasures in store for them. 
 They shall partake of the fruits of plenty and 
 drink the kiscious wine of honor; and when their 
 autumn shall bedeck itself with gorgeous colors, 
 purple, crimson and gold — typical of well-earned 
 wisdom, lasting friendship and the gold of prom- 
 ise — then whispers, low sighing, the wind that tells 
 that the time of winter draweth nigh, and the tender 
 hands of love m.inister with joy to their wants, then 
 the sun doth quietly sink to rest within his cloudy 
 draperies, and feathery blossoms of the air doth 
 downward float, covering the face of nature with 
 snowy mantle, soft and warm say violets and snow- 
 drops that shelter in its depth. 
 
 Silver stars come forth one by one and look with 
 solemn prom.ise on its whiteness. Then doth he 
 know that now is the time of his departure, the les- 
 sons he came to learn have been conned and what he 
 deemed most difficult hath well repaid the many 
 hours of arduous toil. 
 
 He calleth his friends together, that they may re- 
 joice with him. Old men and women, those he knew 
 in the merry days of youth, but who now, like 
 himself, wear the snow of promise on their brows, 
 and look forward with joyous anticipation to the 
 time when they, too. shall be promoted to the higher 
 life. Young men and maidens with the strong and 
 supple frame of youth, who long to do him reverence 
 
Dreams. 37 
 
 whose example they do emulate, and happy children 
 who ever love their wise and gentle friend, all gather 
 around with songs of joy, for he goeth to the place 
 prepared for him, where in the sunshine of the Fath- 
 er's love, the ice and snow of age shall melt in the 
 sparkling waters of eternal life. 
 
 He shall pluck the flowers of new discovery, the 
 amaranth and asphodel that blossom there, and gar- 
 ner the precious wheat of accumulated wisdom. 
 
 Thus with his hand in blessing placed upon the 
 head of a fair-haired child, with songs of rejoicing 
 ringing in his ears, he leaveth the worn fleshly gar- 
 ment tliat has served him well. Going forth, the 
 Star of Hope lighteth his pathway and the Dove of 
 Peace abideth with those that remain. 
 
 When this picture was brought to me I was op- 
 pressed and cried aloud : 
 
 " Oh, that it were so even now, but it is not ! Thy 
 children, Father, do war and dififer one from the 
 other and that in thy name. Then I fell face down- 
 ward and called to the Father, the Eternal Good, 
 and wept till my eyes grew weary and heavy with 
 slumber, for I was even as others who could not 
 watch e'en though it were a sad Gethsemane, and I, 
 too, slept and dreamt a dream. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 I SAW a winding stairway up which, one by one. 
 
38 Dreams. 
 
 were passing an innunieral)le throng ; yet no two 
 were together, for when one had gained a step, the 
 foot of the one preceding was just parting from it. 
 Each carried a flaming torch, some of which burned 
 steadily and were upright held, while others wavered 
 and flamed as if the bearer faced a heavy gale. 
 Others carried theirs aslant as if not caring much 
 aboiit the upward journey. Although all were 
 forced irresistibly onward, some fain would linger ; 
 yet they, too, passed on. Some looked on me earn- 
 estly and their faces grew to a strange similitude to 
 faces I had known and loved who had gone to the 
 mystery of the higher life. Then it grew^ upon my 
 consciousness that the innumerable multitude that 
 came, I knew not whence and went I knew not 
 whither, were those who are constantly being called 
 from us to go into a wider life than this. Those 
 who went willingly when the Father called, having 
 striven to fulfil His will while in this life, trusting in 
 His promises — walked with uplifted heads, carrying 
 their torches firmly and steadily ; these went rever- 
 ently but fearlessly into the great unknown. 
 
 Those whose torches flickered and burned un- 
 steadily were those beset by many doubts and fears : 
 but who fought those fears and trusted in the mercy 
 of tlie Good ; and those whose torches were blown 
 as by a heavv. steady wind were those whose lives 
 had been one long, continuous struggle. I saw that 
 they walked firmly but slowly forward, with a resig- 
 nation taught by sorrow, and feared naught that 
 should betide. 
 
Dreams. 39 
 
 Those who trailed their torches, looked back and 
 lingered, were those who fain would have remained 
 amid the joys and sorrows, the lights and shades of 
 this kaleidoscopic life. Mayhap a tender love for 
 some one they were leaving caused them to linger, 
 backward turn, with halting step and slow. The 
 torches that they carried, each and every one, was 
 that light of Truth which is given to those who enter 
 on the journey here to guide them on their way 
 until they return to Him who sent them forth, bring- 
 ing the gain of their labors with them. Some a 
 beauteous fabric, others broken, torn and soiled, 
 where tears have fallen on stitches lost when most 
 anxiously they wTought. I saw that as they looked 
 on me where I was at the lowermost step, it was as 
 if they feared to waken one from his slumber. Was 
 that one I ? Soon, ah, soon shall I awaken also and 
 go on my way ! Help me, dear Father, that I go 
 aright, for amid the multitude of leaders whom shall 
 I follow ? I greatly fear that I may turn aside from 
 the path in which I should walk, for they differ 
 greatly one from another. Then the guide, who is 
 ever with me, said: 
 
 " Dost thou remember the vision of the window? 
 let not your heart be troubled, the Father smileth on 
 all." 
 
 CHAPTER VUl. 
 The vision of the window was this: Listening- 
 
40 Dreams. 
 
 one rest-day to the discourse of a brave, liberal 
 teacher of the people, as nearly as I can recall he 
 said the' day was coming when there would no 
 longer be petty divisions among those who were 
 striving after righteousness, behind whose names 
 they would hide to war with each other, and say, 
 " I am of this, you are of that; and so on down the 
 long list of names behind which we try to entrench 
 ourselves ; but that the time was approaching when 
 there would no longer be Jew or Gentile, bond or 
 free, that eventually all will meet on a higher alti- 
 tude where each will extend the hand of brotherly 
 love and kindness to the other.'' 
 
 This may not be the exact letter of the discourse 
 but it is certainlv the spirit thereof. Hearing this 
 I a-dreaming fell, for a dreamer of dreams I, and a 
 seer of visions from my youth up. I was caught up 
 into the clouds and there w^as shown a glorious 
 temple, whose builder and maker was God. Of 
 purest alal:)aster was the wall, one side was I placed 
 and the spirit bade me look ; and, lo ! there was a 
 wondrous window most glorious to behold. A 
 strange mosaic window of precious stones, each to 
 its appointed place was fitted and none could say, I 
 have no need of Jhee, for should one of the least be 
 removed the grand harmonious wdiole were lost. 
 Together they formed one gorgeous chord of color ; 
 and then the light of the All-Father's smile fell up- 
 on the window and all these combining did give the 
 white light of purity, which, vibratiiig through space, 
 fell in undulating waves on some far off planet, 
 
Dreams. 41 
 
 where struggled and strove to the light many help- 
 less ones like ourselves, and its purity and strength 
 enveloped them and drew them onward and upward, 
 so they sang for very joy; and said, surely some 
 great good shall come to us and how I love all those 
 who with me dwell. How true, how good, how 
 noble every one ; but I saw not until this light had 
 come tliat should one do aught amiss, or fall, how 
 quickly would I deliver him. Then I thought the 
 tender spirit said, " Let none rebuke another, but 
 let each strive after perfection in his own appointed 
 place." 
 
 When all are perfected then will they know that 
 not one note shall be missed when the stars together 
 sing and on the spirit's ear is borne again the song, 
 " Glory to God in the Highest; on earth Peace and 
 Good Will toward men." and each will know that he 
 is a child of the Eternal Good, the All-Father of 
 spirits whose principle of eternal love embodied it- 
 self in the form of our Elder Brother, a high priest 
 capable of being touched with a feeling of our in- 
 firmities, having himself suffered likewise. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The world with all its petty cares and strifes fell 
 from me like a garment ; like an eagle poised in air 
 was L Above, the glorious orb of day in vaulted, 
 cloudless blue, was set. Far below, the world with 
 
42 Dreams. 
 
 its hills and valleys, cities and hamlets small, were 
 pictured, with all their inmates in silence most pro- 
 foimd. A child's fabric of blocks and cards 
 not more fragile was ; but on the sea — the 
 sea o'er which I poised, the vast, resistless 
 sea — full many ships were sailing, and I saw 
 that although they sailed from many ])orts 
 they all sought one harbor. I also saw many 
 that were pleasure boats, fit only to skim 
 the shore, unseaworthy, yet they gaily ventured out 
 with music and song; which ofttimes was changed 
 to wails of anguish, for beneath the apparently placid 
 waves were terrible rocks and treacherous whirl- 
 pools; to these led the swift current of sophistry, 
 and being caught in this some fragile boats most 
 swiftly were carried on to where they lightly played 
 in the treacherous whirlpool of indulgence, until 
 they were engulfed in the maelstrom of habit and 
 dashed to pieces on the rocks of despair. I saw 
 when this happened that from all the ships were sent 
 out boa*^s to seek and save; and where the boats 
 went not, were thrown out ropes, so that, peradven- 
 turc. they might reach some struggling one before it 
 was too late. Among the ships was one that rode 
 the waves most stately, staunch and brave ; the crew 
 also had the look of kindred. The ship's name was 
 Com.passion and the rope they used was called 
 brotlierly love : the name of the life-boat was Pa- 
 tient Endurance. They saved many that were ready 
 to perish, for their captain himself had set the ex- 
 ample and said the way of promotion was this: that 
 
Dreams. 43 
 
 he who would be the greatest among them should 
 serve the least. He spared not himself, but did most 
 diligently serve also. He was of noble countenance, 
 serene, and a dignity clothed him upon as a garment. 
 Some called him the Nazarene, others the Savior, 
 some simply Jesus, yet others Jesus the Christ; and 
 truly with him dwelt that love which vaunteth not 
 itself, that suffereth long and is kind. 
 
 There was some disagreement as to what he should 
 be called, but he called himself the Son of Man, 
 making toiling, suffering humanity his very brother- 
 hood, and all agreed that his was the most happy 
 medium by which to seek and save those who were 
 ready to perish. The strands of the rope of brotherly 
 love are woven from the fiber of experience and in- 
 terior perception and are exceedingly strong. The 
 ship of Compassion never faileth, but is brave and 
 true ; those who man the life-boat, Patient Endu- 
 rance, are courageous, with an alert watchfulness, 
 following the commands of their Captain and read- 
 ing, e'en at the darkest hour, by the light of the 
 ever-burning lamp given by the great Commander 
 who sent their master forth, they can not fail, yet 
 in some sad moments, alas ! the light is blurred and 
 they have inadvertently made many mistakes 
 which T am assured they will eventually retrieve, for 
 they will be assisted by a bright and shining light, 
 which is beginning to dawn for all, and will be seen 
 from the east even unto the west. Yet my heart is 
 sad for them, when I think of the long years that 
 must elapse before they can atone for what they, 
 
44 Dreams. 
 
 like Saul, believed to the honor and glory of God, 
 and for which the occult Paul was sore distressed. 
 
 So even was I distressed for the blurring of the 
 lights that I saw, but he who was sent to instruct 
 me said : " Fear not, in the All-Father's time each 
 though sorely tried will anchor safe in the beautiful 
 harbor of Security." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It so happened while I was intent upon the ships, 
 I was annoyed by certain dark objects that occasion- 
 ally flew past me in the direction of the brilliant 
 sun ; and after the Sage had explained to me the 
 vision of the ships, I sought to ascertain what these 
 annoying objects- were that occasionally obstructed 
 my sight. 
 
 Looking toward the sun, to my surprise I found 
 that they were bats ; and here was a new mystery ; 
 for that ancient enemy of light to fly to the great 
 source of light was more than I could understand. 
 So to my ever patient teacher, as the bats to the sun, 
 I turned for explanation ; but my astonishment was 
 such I could scarce give expression to my desire 
 and, anticipating me, over his grave and kindly 
 countenance shone for a moment the shadow of a 
 smile, and he to my unspoken wish gave answer. 
 
 " Those bats that thou dost behold are the super- 
 stitions that have in all ages blinded the sight of 
 men and cast dark images upon their eyes when they 
 
Dreams. 45 
 
 sought to turn them toward the great and beneficent 
 source of all light and life. But now that sun ariseth 
 in majesty and power and shineth from the east 
 unto the west and doth penetrate all the dark cav- 
 erns which have served them for shelter in ages 
 that are past. They are dazzled by its brightness 
 and are seeking a place of refuge in their blindness." 
 In this age they fly directly toward that glorious 
 fount of light, to be absorbed in the great primeval 
 source, never to darken and obscure with phantom 
 doubts and fears, the hearts and souls of the chil- 
 dren of good, when, in ages yet to come, they turn 
 trustingly to the All-Father's wisdom and love, as a 
 child to its mother's breast, knowing that there it 
 shall find solace for all sorrow in abiding love. 
 
 Now all this I had been able to comprehend; the 
 interior self was true, Init having dwelt long in the 
 caverns of universal customs, although for a time 
 delighted with the beauteous thought thus conveyed 
 to my mind, yet, as I grew familiar with the 
 imagery, the black bats of doubt and fear, together 
 with the still more despicable one of scorning, again 
 made themselves felt and I said, " I trulv love the 
 picture and thy words are as a soothing balm, as a 
 crystal fountain in a desert land, and mv parched 
 lips fain would -quench their thirst therein, but much 
 I fear that this is but a mirage I contemplate and 
 soon all these blissful thoughts will, like a huge bal- 
 loon, take flight with all their freight of bright an- 
 ticipations ; only, like the balloon, escape from its 
 moorings, to be dragged in the tall trees of estab- 
 
46 Dreams. 
 
 lished hierarchy and hurthng down scatter all these 
 winged but untledged hopes on barren rock, to be 
 trampled under the feet of the giants of intellectual 
 wisdom." 
 
 To this my patient friend made answer: " Not 
 so my child ; like the captive balloon escaped from 
 its moorings they shall indeed take flight, but not as 
 the balloon, to be dashed to pieces, but arising higher 
 and higher through the fog of unbelief anchor them- 
 selves in the farthermost star that scintillates in 
 space, sending its waves of light to this thy present 
 dwelling place." 
 
 CHAPTER XL ' 
 
 Whilst cjuietly musing one day I heard beneath 
 my window strains of martial music and the sound 
 of many marching feet, and there passed a great 
 multitude, led by gray-haired veterans, bearing the 
 scars of many a hard-fought battle and the trium- 
 ]:)hant banner of victory. Some were erect and 
 strong, some bowed down with the weigl'tt of many 
 years. After them came those who w-alked with 
 the light, vigorous step of youth, with sparkling 
 eyes and uplifted heads, eager alike to join the ar- 
 mored tilt o.r wri.te a poesy to their loves ; in their 
 hearts no doubt or fear but that they would far excel 
 in deeds of love or valor the veterans who marched 
 
Dreams. 47 
 
 before. They were the admiration of those who 
 followed them with tlie dancing step of childhood, 
 with rosy, dimpled cheeks and curly pates running 
 o'er with tales of fairy lore and heroes of most 
 gigantic growth, which in the world of every day 
 tihey soon will learn have yet no dwelling place. 
 
 The music — it shouted, it challenged, it threatened 
 and prayed, wailed, sobbed, dying away, and the 
 flags floated bravely on the breezes. Steadily, stead- 
 ily marched the multitude, a great resistless sea of 
 life. Whither are they bound, and who awaits? 
 Then I fain must fall to weeping, so weak a one am 
 I that it is ever thus at the bravery of flags and stir- 
 ring music of trumpet, fife and drum. My heart 
 beats with labored throbbing, my throat swells and 
 mine eyes grow blind with tears. I think not of 
 the glory of battle, but of the hopes and fears that 
 dwell within the breast of each one of the innumer- 
 able multitude that are as the sands of the sea, so 
 weak and small themselves, yet each one containing 
 within himself a world that none may know, to him- 
 self the beginning and the end — the whole of life. 
 
 Does that gray-haired veteran remember the fond, 
 proud mother who, with quivering lip, sent forth 
 her boy to battle for the right, who would rather 
 herself have faced the serried bayonets than to have 
 seen him go ! Did he come home triumphant, with 
 a heart burning to tell her his tale of victory, or, if 
 of sore defeat, to wdiisper low, knowing that ever in 
 that gentle heart sweet sympathy was found ! May- 
 hap to that home returning, the mother slept be- 
 
48 Dreams. 
 
 neath the sod. Soft hair in silken bands above the 
 placid brow and pale hands folded on peaceful 
 breast; the flowering tree dropping its snowy 
 blooms as teardrops o'er her resting place. A stran- 
 ger sits beside the hearth, or the aged sire hushing 
 the grief within his heart to welcome home the son; 
 yet do they read within each other's eyes the thought 
 they wmU not speak. Did that one leave a sweet- 
 heart fair and did he find her true, the thought of 
 whom lent new strength unto his arm and courage 
 to his heart? 
 
 Did he count the moments long as hours that kept 
 him from her side, or did he return to find her to his 
 rival wed. himself by fickle maid forgot? Nay, 
 rather let us hope he found her true, and wedding 
 bells pealed merrily and happy hearts were one ; 
 that in the bonds of sympathetic love were reared 
 true sons and daughters fair. Yet, see, the man is 
 old ; and years ago I fear the wife grew weary of 
 the march and went to rest, leaving the fond heart 
 to winter's chilling blast alone. The sons and 
 daughters, too. where are they sleeping? Ah, me! 
 there must be manv graves in an old man's mem- 
 ory ; and yet he a son may have marching in the 
 youthful throng; if so, God grant that he is kind 
 and gentle, as well as brave and strong. An old 
 man's dreams are of the past, and what lieth before 
 but silence and the tomb? Mine eyes are dim with 
 weeping : the vision of youth grieves me yet more, 
 for I think of the day when they, too, will feel that 
 their bright dreams are only dreams ; when their 
 
Dreams. 
 
 49 
 
 straw houses of high hopes have been scattered by 
 adversity's blast and those they most fondly cher- 
 ished have been as worthless stubble burned. Oft 
 must they feel the keen edge of the sharp sword of 
 disappointment ere they come to march like vet- 
 erans solemnly and slowly, the visions of youth a 
 " dream in the night," and before them only silence 
 and the tomb. 
 
 The children, the merry, happy children; how 
 many mothers' hands have decked them for the 
 march, each deeming her child the fairest, sweetest 
 there, counting herself of but little worth if but her 
 child can march, by mother's toil, more gaily forth. 
 Their joys and tears are mirrored on her heart, yet 
 they, too, must tread the thorny path the others 
 trod, and many a fall awaits ere they shall reach 
 the goal. But the children, oh, the children! with 
 tear-wet cheeks and pallid brows! The children 
 whose mother's voice is silenced ; with bleeding feet 
 they walk the rugged way, and no one cares how 
 tired and sad they grow, how weak and faint, how 
 soon they fall and are trodden under foot. Not that 
 the multitude are cruel, but that each careth for his 
 own, and when they gain the battle rank, to walk as 
 veterans, what remaineth but unfulfilled dreams, 
 silence and the tomb? All is as Dead-sea fruit and 
 bitter ashes, and it were better for man had he never 
 been born. 
 
 The sound of my sobbing was on the air, and my 
 tears were as a flood. Why am I, and why was I 
 sent, if this be all? The friend, the faithful friend, 
 
50 Dreams. 
 
 sought to comfort n\t\ but 1 would not ; so he called 
 the white-robed one, and at her coming I was stilled 
 and sweet peace folded her wings within my breast, 
 and then he that speakest said, " Child, why weepest 
 thou? So quickly h.ast thou forgotten the visions 
 and dreams and the lessons that they taught ? Thou 
 gainest strength but slowly, so long hast thou dwelt 
 with the bats in the prison-house. Yet, indeed, if 
 this were all, thou doest well to weep, but think 
 not one bright dream of purity is doomed to perish. 
 In the life beyond this one of apparent disappoint- 
 ments they shall find their sweet fulfillment, the 
 mother clasp her son, the orphan child forget its 
 sorrow's in its mother's sheltering arms, the father 
 proudly gaze on his brave boy, all battle-scarred and 
 weary, it may be, soiled and footsore, but still his 
 child. The fond, true husband and faithful wife 
 again in sweet companionship recount the varied 
 experiences of an eventful life, and friends, who are 
 of a verity friends, shall greet with confiding clasp 
 the hands of these whose true friendship they are 
 now more capable of appreciating, for there shall 
 be nothing hidden from those who seek to know the 
 good. 
 
 " The teachers of the race who have given their 
 lives for the betterment of others will there be rev- 
 ered and loved as the benefactors they are; arid, 
 moreover and beyond and above all, every one shall 
 be secure and know themselves secure in the father- 
 hood of love, and it is written : ' All tears shall be 
 wiped from their eyes.' " 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 My eyes being opened I saw a sea, as it were, of 
 most transparent molten gold, that wave on wave 
 crested itself beneath a sapphire sky in glorious 
 glow, and from out the gates of jasper in the east 
 floated a boat of ebony and silver. Black as the 
 blackest night, fair as the fairest day, tossing high 
 on every foamy billow, safe did it ride. There, 
 ensconced in slumber deep, a beauteous child was 
 laid. Fair as a sculptor's dream, its rounded limbs, 
 so white save glow of tender pink that showed, as 
 caught in soft reflection from some crimson rose 
 that kissed it ere it slept. Lulled by sweet music 
 from some unseen choir, onward floated the tiny 
 bark toward the gates of glistening pearl in the west, 
 which opened wide to entrance give the floating 
 boat. 
 
 Beyond I saw the waves were dark and gray, the 
 sky was overcast and luuch feared I for the sleep- 
 ing child, that smiled as it slept. Near the outer 
 gate it waked and laughed and clapped its tiny, 
 dimpled hands, and out on the troubled sea glided 
 the boat, untrammeled and alone. Then did the 
 waves arise, as if to crush within their angry jaws 
 the fragile thing of daring. I did think I never more 
 would see the ebony and silver of the boat, much less 
 the naked, childish occupant that it sheltered in its 
 depths. Not so; after every dark, engulfing wave 
 had passed there could be seen, far out at sea, the 
 
52 Dreams. 
 
 ebony and silver of its trappings. I thought, as 
 well as could be discerned at that remote distance, 
 that the child had grown graver, and at times did try 
 to shield itself from the blustering winds with the 
 robes and draperies that fashioned its couch in the 
 boat ; yet its face wore a dauntless look, as if it 
 knew that it would conquer; truly it had youth and 
 strength in its favor, with a look of wisdom far be- 
 yond its years, yet did I marvel greatly that its 
 guardians or friends should cast it adrift in so frail 
 a craft on such a treacherous sea ; also at the color- 
 ing of the boat in which thev had placed it. 
 
 Then the voice said, " I perceive that thou dost 
 not understand the vision." 
 
 I answered, " Nay, I do not." 
 
 The voice said, " The golden sea and sapphire sky 
 are the emblematic picture of the home of the young 
 child, whose name is Truth. The boat in which it 
 is sent is dark and strong ebony, for dark and 
 strong are the storms it must encounter ere it return 
 to the celestial land of its birth. The silver, emblem- 
 atical of spiritual purity, shall ever gleam brightly, 
 however dark the waters or overcast the sky. 
 
 "The child sleeping peacefully betokens that in the 
 home of Justice and Love it has naught to fear ; and 
 it is naked because it is innocent and knows no 
 shame : when it awoke and laughed it was that as 
 yet it had known neither grief nor care, and all its 
 anticipations were joyous. Yet, as thou didst per- 
 ceive, when once it was upon the stormy sea it was 
 safe, and the angry threatening waves were power- 
 
Dreams. 53 
 
 less to engulf it. Though the child had grown grave 
 and sought to cover itself with the robes of con- 
 servatism from the sharp winds of adverse criti- 
 cism, while riding on the dark waters of public 
 opinion, yet its face was dauntless and wore a look 
 of wisdom far beyond its years. Although the child 
 appeared young, it is an eternal verity ; its years are 
 from everlasting to everlasting, yet it never groweth 
 old, but reneweth its youth in every generation. Its 
 wisdom is the wisdom of continuity, which hath 
 seen generation after generation, with all their tis- 
 sues of falsehoods, pass away and storm waves of 
 public opinion grow calm as a sea of glass. 
 
 " The blustering winds of adverse criticism die 
 away like the futile wailings of a fretful babe, yet 
 withal Truth has been known to cover herself with 
 the garment of established custom ; for in this way 
 are the more timid ones taught that otherwise might 
 have been affrighted and not received that knowl- 
 edge which is for their eternal betterment. 
 
 " This is a parable to be comprehended only by 
 those who are ready to receive." 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 All the morning the sky has hung leaden and 
 sullen, and now the drifting rain is driving in heavy 
 sheets across the land. As I sit, lonely, at my win- 
 dow and watch the storm-caught crowds hurrving 
 
54 Dreams. 
 
 to their various homes the excjuisite words of Long- 
 fellow are borne to my mind : 
 
 "Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; 
 Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; 
 Thy fate is the common fate of all, 
 Into each life some rain must fall." 
 
 If this be so, how tenderly should we care for 
 one another, striving that the sunshine of Love may 
 shine through the tear-drops of sorrow, setting the 
 rainbow of promise in the sky of the future, even as 
 the material sun doth shine through the tear-drops 
 of the material sky, forming the rainbow that doth 
 tell that the storm is overpast. 
 
 How we should watch to lighten the heavy bur- 
 dens of our fellow traveler, yet how little do we for 
 one another. 
 
 As I watched the people disappeared, only one 
 stalwart man remained, bearing, tenderly shielded 
 from the inclemency of the weather, the happy bur- 
 den of his child. How trustful and fond the child; 
 well may it know itself safe in the haven of the 
 loving father's breast, upborne by the strong en- 
 circling arms of love. Are we thtis cared for by the 
 great overruling power through the tempest of life 
 and the sorrows of so-called death, safe, could we 
 but realize it, in the shelter of the All-Father's en- 
 circling arms and on his loving heart? 
 
 As I mused a vision was given to me. I was look- 
 ing from another window, and all the scene was dull 
 and blurred ; I thought because the dust had lain so 
 
Dreams. 
 
 55 
 
 long on the glass within the casement, but I per- 
 ceived it was a dull, dismal day, and the fog hung 
 sluggish, like a mist, on everything. 
 
 In a slender sapling a song-bird had built her nest, 
 and now, as recompense of labor and of love, the 
 nest was filled with tiny nestlings; presently the 
 wind began to blow, rustled in the tall tree tops and 
 bowed the slender sapling, with its nest of song- 
 bird's hopes and fears, almost to the earth, and I 
 did tremble lest they should be dashed to death, the 
 mother and her nestlings. But not one of the fledg- 
 lings could I see, save sometimes a timid head was 
 visible, but quickly hidden beneath the mother s 
 wing. From the trees fell many a broken branch, 
 some lusty and strong, able, one would think, to 
 withstand many storms such as that the sapling 
 bowed before. Many more fragile ones were 
 broken from the parent stem and were driven past 
 my window. Anon a sturdy tree fell crashing to 
 earth, yet the slender sapling and its living freight 
 was safe. Presently I saw that the glasses in the 
 narrow casement were growing clearer, clearer, still 
 more clear, and soon there was no obscurity, but 
 they v^ere as transparent crystalline lens for purity, 
 so I saw that it was but the fog without that had 
 obscured my vision. Little by little that fog lifted, 
 and the sun was shining bright and warm. The 
 mother and nestlings were safe, and on a fallen tree 
 her mate was lifting up his voice in tuneful lay. My 
 friend said unto me : 
 " Who is mindful of the sparrows' fall is mindful 
 
56 Dreams. 
 
 of thee, O thou of little faith. The fog is the fog 
 of doubt that doth obscure thy spiritual vision. The 
 casement and the glass are thy environments through 
 which thou lookest. The cleansing, purifying wind 
 is the messenger of God, the tree and its branches 
 that thou seest broken down are those who have ful- 
 filled their time on this sphere, and some in old age 
 and some in lusty youth are called hence. The ten- 
 der iiranches are those which ' in a short time have 
 fulfilled a long time, for age is counted by wisdom 
 and not by years.' The sapling and the song-birds 
 are those who bow submissive to the will of the 
 All-Merciful and in tlie time of destruction are they 
 safe. ' Yea, in the \ alley and Shadow of Death 
 shall they arise and sing.' " 
 
 My spirit was glad because of the vision, and in 
 its exultation arose beyond the vanities of this ex- 
 istence. As [ ascended the heavens were beauteous 
 with a beauty difficult to describe ; like and yet un- 
 like after a night of rain, when a frost comes sud- 
 denly and every tree and shrub, tiny leaflet and spear 
 of grass is covered with resplendent diamonds. 
 
 Thus it was, and I had reached where stalactites 
 of glistening topaz barred my way. I sought to pass 
 and would have succeeded, but a voice I loved and 
 lost long ago forbade me to enter, saying, " Return 
 thou to thy work, which is not yet done." I saw 
 not the speaker for the wall of topaz between, but I 
 did call in bitterness, " Not so, let me remain " ; but 
 I could not pass the bars of light. So slowly, slowly, 
 sadly, I returned, and am here; yet, withal, the hao- 
 
Dreams. 57 
 
 pier for the vision which 1 may not describe, but, 
 mayhap, in some glad day, I, too, shall pass the bars 
 of most transparent gold and there will greet the 
 one whose voice so firmly, sadly, lovingly did send 
 me back mv mission to fulfill. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Again I slept and dreamed a dream; mayhap 
 not all a dream, who can tell? Out of the earth 
 grew a slender spire of living green, with lanceo- 
 late leaves as guarding soldiers close around that 
 shielded with their glistening bayonets the gracious 
 spire that bore aloft a large, white, lustrous flower, 
 a lily of exceeding purity. So tall was tlie support- 
 ing stem that in this dream I thought its radiant 
 beauty reached skies of softest turcjuoise blue that 
 bent above, and fleecy clouds paused to admire its 
 loveliness. I, most fortunate of mortals, was per- 
 mitted to look within the chalice of its fragrant 
 sweetness. Therein lay a drop of sparkling dew, 
 and as I looked I saw strange shadows come and go 
 within its crystal depth until, at last. I saw a laugh- 
 ing, happy babe, a human cherub, bright type of our 
 humanity. 
 
 Observing closely T did see that it was supported 
 by the shapely, tender hands of a most cpieenly 
 woman. As the lily among flowers so was this 
 most gracious one among her sisters for beautv and 
 purity. 
 
58 Dreams. 
 
 It was given me to know that this was the shadow 
 of Motherhood, as the Eternal Good would have it; 
 when woman, true to her better self, having put 
 under her feet the vain imaginings and licentious 
 habits of an ignorant day, shall clothe herself in 
 purity and rejoice in the glorious gift that is given 
 her- — power to give the sweet, healthy garment of 
 materiality, wdierewith to make invisibility visible, 
 and to train for this life and all phases of the life to 
 come, those immortal spirits that for their better- 
 ment sojourn for a short period in the caravansary 
 of this our earthly sphere. 
 
 A creative and ecstatic joy is hers to watch unfold 
 each day, responsive to her teaching, the beauties 
 of the physical and spiritual, until the mighty wings 
 of wisdom and mercy are poised for flight to that 
 better land, to which the father of spirits shall call 
 it at the perfected time. The lily, radiant and pure, 
 is the most fitting emblem of that most glorious 
 motherhood. 
 
 In the dream I had said, it is not given to all to 
 be mothers and co-workers with the Eternal Good 
 in perfecting of spirits. All may not know the pride 
 and joy it is to see a part of themselves arising 
 higher and attaining more and more to that eminence 
 which all desire, and with every achievement adding 
 new luster to the life of her who has equipped them 
 for tiie struggle. 
 
 Again in the dream I was taken to a humble cot, 
 where lay one whose days were numbered, and to 
 him ministered a woman, one who was not of his 
 
Dreams. S9 
 
 kindred or even of his people. Siie was patient and 
 kind, and with watchful care did she strive for him, 
 that the spark of life might gain strength to burn 
 yet a little while within his heart. When this proved 
 vain, pointing with unfaltering faith to the life be- 
 yond and telling of the fatherhood and love of God ; 
 so entrancing were the words that methought that 
 spiric went forth as to a marriage supper, with ex- 
 ceeding great joy. Then in that strange dream the 
 walls of that room widened and fell away, and I saw 
 the woman, whom I had deemed neither young nor 
 fair, had grown exceedingly lovely, and around her 
 were many to whom she had ministered in long- 
 forgotten years ; but she wist not that they were 
 there, for her thoughts were far away in the long 
 ago, with a lover, young and brave, who had left her 
 v/hen hopes were high, and gone to the land of the 
 leal ; of aged parents whom she had cared for ten- 
 derly; of orphaned children, whose lives she had 
 striven to make less desolate. Indeed the habit of 
 sacrifice had become so much a part of her very na- 
 ture that it might be said to be the sum and whole of 
 her existence. 
 
 Changed again was the shifting picture. I saw 
 the robber prowling around the dwelling of the man 
 of wealth, and he hated him. for he said, " I am poor 
 and what cares he that I sufifer." The poor man 
 was vengeful and evil, and he judged the rich man. 
 It happened that the rich man was just and right- 
 eous, and he sat studying in what way he might help 
 his fellow-man and was sore troubled lest, instead of 
 
6o Dreams. 
 
 helping, ill-considered alms should incite to greater 
 evils. Moreover, the man was desolate, for the light 
 of his life had gone out, and he was left alone. To 
 him came this wicked one, but of his purpose he 
 failed; how he failed, it matters not. Enough that 
 he failed, and was at the mercy of the man he would 
 have despoiled. So be it for himself he cared not, 
 but spoke of wife and child, pleading with tearful 
 but sullen desperation. The other, hearing with 
 doubting, forgave ; and not only forgave, but did as- 
 sist him to obtain and maintain an honest living. He 
 who was forgiven did strive to be worthy of that 
 he had received. 
 
 I also saw poverty sharing its scanty crust with 
 other poorer than itself, with the pitiful comradeship 
 of sorrow. On the field of battle also, when night 
 had come, and the wounded, dying and dead lay 
 deserted, wdth only heaven's starry eyes and heaven's 
 pitying hosts to witness their last agony, one there 
 was among the many, whom the death-thirst was 
 upon, gave to his wounded enemy the last drop of 
 water in his canteen ; for he himself must die, but 
 this one refreshed, might live till dawn and then be 
 carried back to life and happiness. 
 
 As I pondered on these visions the heavens were 
 opened. There, in greater light and space of paler 
 sky, I saw again the lily ; yet not the lily, for it grew 
 not on earthly soil, Init was of a more spiritual na- 
 ture and floated in space 'mid circling clouds of ten- 
 der glow. It was of silver beaten white for luster, 
 and bevond and above I saw a crown of thorns. As 
 
Dreams. 6i 
 
 I looked, wondering, every spiky thorn did change, 
 blossoming with white amaranth — flower of eternal 
 life. I saw, or did I see, the pale shadow of a fading 
 cross? And a voice said, " Behold the emblem of 
 the heart compassionate that doth give without 
 thought of receiving, and apparently without re- 
 ceiving recompense ! Behold there was a great mul- 
 titude that praised God for His mercy." 
 
INTERLUDE. 
 
 In a circular tower on a pinnacle tall, 
 Stands a workshop quaint and grey ; 
 Where a spinr;ing wheel turned by hands unseen, 
 Is spinning a thread for a wonderful web 
 With a golden warp, whose magical weaver toils all 
 day, 
 
 — and far in the dusky night you may hear the 
 sound of the busy loom 'mid the whirl so rife, the 
 hurry and life of the warring w^orld and its noonday 
 strife. 
 
 At evening grey, when the weary and sad sink 
 glad to rest, by labors blest, and in the darkening 
 sky of night the sweet new crescent gleams so white 
 with many attending stars, you can hear the hum of 
 the busy wheel, which is spinning this thread alway. 
 Perchance, may catch a glimpse of this wondrous 
 web of orient dyes, with sometimes a touch of azure 
 skies, sometimes of tender grey, and ever in the 
 darkest day a silver thread there gleams alway in 
 the mystical web of the wondrous woof, whose spin- 
 ner and weaver, alike unseen, are toiling night and 
 day. 
 
 Sometimes as I wake and watch by night. 
 And long to catch a glimmer slight 
 Of this wondrous web of golden sheen, 
 With silver thread and orient dyes, 
 With a touch of grey or azure skies, 
 My heart seems full of singing birds 
 That beat at the bars of their cage, 
 
64 Dreams. 
 
 And they long to lly. with undimmed eye, 
 In the broad, bright Hght of day ; 
 Singing a song of joy alway, — 
 
 a teiulcr melotly of love ; and hope, mayhap, some 
 one among the throng may hsten and catch the tone 
 of that song of love and joy and' peace. Hearing it, 
 then, may help some weaker one tipon his way that 
 he, too, may sing some note of song that vil^ranr 
 falls upon the one who helps the struggling and 
 helpless here. 
 
 For the spirits a harp of a thousand strings, 
 That are touched by angel hands, I ween, 
 That quivering, leave their echoes faint, 
 Where we shall find them yet again 
 
 in some other land, with, perchance, a music all their 
 own, whose gracious sound may wake us from the 
 mingled dream of sadness or of joy. For, ever in 
 the brightest hour a shadow seems to cling our pris- 
 oned spirits round, but when that music sounds 
 more clear u]:)on the spirit's wakening ear we shall 
 know the song of the singing birds, and see the 
 finished mystical web 
 
 With curious hints of orient dyes, 
 With a touch of grey or azure skies. 
 With silver thread that gleams alway, 
 
 the brightest where the darkest shades fall purpling 
 on the golden warp of th.e wondrous web of life. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 I HAD journeyed a long way through populous 
 cities, with their pulsing veins of iron and steel, over 
 which are carried the vast concourse of people and 
 their ever-increasing traffic and merchandise ; where 
 the millionaire prince abides in his palace, and the 
 tired tramp seeks the shelter of some deserted hovel. 
 Each, the rich man and the tramp, complains of his 
 weary lot. Presently 1 was much amazed at per- 
 ceiving the condition of the inhabitants of this 
 strange city to which my journey had brought me. 
 They were variously attired, some in gay colors and 
 fluttering ribbons, others in filthy garments and tat- 
 tered rags. Moreover, they were all sorely afflicted 
 with diverse diseases — blind, lame and halt, deaf, 
 dumb, and unclean. A blighting leprosy was there. 
 I perceived that they divided themselves into clus- 
 ters ; those wdio were more congenial the one with 
 the other separating themselves from the multitude. 
 
 They talked among themselves, also one of the 
 other, the blind saying to the friend who accom- 
 panied him : 
 
 " How disagreeable are those who walk by us ; 
 that one, how he screams and yells, instead of con- 
 versing elegantly and entertainingly : a veritable 
 magpie ! " 
 
 " Yes," said the one-armed man, his companion, 
 " I tried to walk with him a sort time ago, and it was 
 ridiculous the way he kept dragging one of his feet 
 
68 Dreams. 
 
 after him. Why dcjes hv nut walk uprightly, as I 
 do? 1 have no patience with such slothfulness." So 
 saying he straightened himself up and looked 
 around, as if to say, behold my dignified and noble 
 bearing; and wist not that his right arm was 
 palsied. 
 
 Then he that was lame said to him that was deaf, 
 " Behold that strutting caricature of a monkey. A 
 little while ago I asked him to assist me in removing 
 a huge boulder that was obstructing our path ; and 
 though I laid hold with both my hands, he only ex- 
 erted the strength of his left hand — a selfish booby." 
 
 The deaf man made answer, " I asked his friend 
 to behold the remarkable fossil I had found, and 
 although he turned his eyes towards me he never so 
 nuTch as looked at tlie lovely fossil, but winked and 
 blinked instead of using his two eyes as God in- 
 tended. Now I like a man to look straightforward ; 
 it shows he has nothing to fear from the criticism 
 of others." Then he said, whisperingly. that he had 
 lost his voice. Dost hear that shouting fool? one 
 would think some calamity was about to overtake 
 him, and his voice was lifted to warn all to flee from 
 sorrow to come. Yet, when a short time ago I asked 
 him a simple question, in the most courteous man- 
 ner, he did not reply to me at all, and although T 
 repeated it several times he even made as though he 
 heard me not. Such haughty disdain becomes him 
 ill. Have I not known, if not himself, his family, 
 for manv a year? T would compare favorably with 
 anv one of them in social standing. 
 
Dreams. 69 
 
 The consumptive said of the apoplectic that he 
 was a miserable glutton, and should be exhibited as 
 a terrible example of that vice. Also the apoplectic 
 said of the consumptive that he was an exhibition of 
 sloth and mdulgence. 
 
 " See," he said, " what a scarecrow he is. It is a 
 shame he has no energy, indulging in idleness and 
 sheltering himself from every balmy breeze." 
 
 Neither were the mothers, sisters, wives and 
 daughters of these complaining ones a whit better 
 than themselves. She with straight and glossy hair 
 spoke of her neighbor, with blonde and waving locks, 
 as a silly creature who, with unguents, changed its 
 hue and then did crisp and torture it with many a 
 strange device — a waster of her husband's sub- 
 stance and a neglectful mother. I have but little 
 time to devote to vanities ; straight-banded hair re- 
 quires but little care. My household duties do em- 
 ploy me quite. My husband and my children have 
 my care. While she of wavy locks did say of peach- 
 bloom cheek : 
 
 "Such vulgar color, the rouge-pot from, most cer- 
 tainly, my dear. It goeth well with eyes of jet and 
 banded hair. A housekeeper I grant; too much a 
 keeper — of most waspish tongue. Her children and 
 her husband fear her much, and do retire themselves 
 to the most cheerless portion of her insufferable 
 abode, lest fleck of dust should soil some frippery." 
 She who in her carriage rode viewed with contempt 
 the one who walked the dusty street, with draggled 
 garments and tired feet. She who walked unto the 
 
7o Dreams. 
 
 other did impute all sins within her calendar ; and 
 she of virtue, pure as ice and heart as cold, did scorn 
 one who gave her life for love's red wine and found 
 but bitter gall; and so she who wasted life did hate 
 the other and would kill. 
 
 The children quarreled among themselves ; none 
 were wholesome quite, but some blemish did pro- 
 ject itself and grieved the sight. I was pained for 
 much I feared that I myself belonged among the 
 horrid, leprous crew ; for now I did perceive that a 
 most venomous dart of adverse criticism burned 
 within my heart like that which had been hurled 
 most readily by those who bore, safe hidden they 
 thought, the most hideous scars ; while others 
 never felt the smart of their more dangerous wounds. 
 I had seen, whenever they spoke disparagingly of 
 one another, it did inflame and aggravate their own 
 unhappy state, so I fled swiftly, closing my lips and 
 almost stilling my heart. I said within my soul : 
 
 " Fools, idiots, dolts ! Seeing, they cannot com- 
 prehend, or hearing, understand ; I will go away 
 lest I become as one of them." And there did follow 
 me a limping cur ; I hated it. It had been driven 
 forth to die, pelted by many a jagged stone and cut 
 by many a cruel lash. I hated the unseemly stray, 
 yet it did follow me. As I thought with bitterness 
 of the people, how they loved me not, I also hated 
 them. I felt a burning in my heart, and it angered 
 me ; so I sought for somewhat to hurl at that which 
 followed me, and then the smart was terrible. I 
 knew not what I now should do to ease me. T turned 
 
Dreams. 71 
 
 to hurl the missile, and it grew a fiery pain ; hot, 
 searching, keen; but something in the poor, dumb 
 beastie's eyes looked upon me almost as anguished 
 human. A sad, imploring, fearful, haunted look, 
 although they now grew dim at call of that which 
 comes to man and beast alike, and shows, methinks, 
 a strange impartiality between the dominant and 
 subject animal. As I saw that look my arm fell by 
 my side and I reached out my hand to call the crea- 
 ture to me. It trembled with a sudden fear of fur- 
 ther hurt, and when I by force did seek to bring it 
 near it did make as though it would have bitten me, 
 but when I laid my hand in kindness on its poor, 
 bruised head and gathered soft mosses for its 
 mangled form to rest upon and there breathe forth 
 the animate of what we call a most inferior mechan- 
 ism, albeit it doth contain a curious something that 
 has caused it to maintain a strange fidelity to brutal 
 master, who doth reward with kicks and blows the 
 homage, tiresome grown, this something, too, hath 
 called it forth to lie on a dead master's grave in 
 piercing blast and pelting rain, and refuse both 
 food and shelter. A curious instinct that doth hold 
 it there in silent misery, one might think, could soul- 
 less thing feel sentiment, until the mechanism of its 
 heart is stilled. I staid by this worthless toy that 
 no spirit had wath which to part, and so weak had 
 grown my mind that I did strive to soothe the strug- 
 gle of its silencing. And there did come to it a 
 strange majesty within its eyes which, had it been 
 of the superior creature, would have been called 
 
72 Dreams. 
 
 gratitude ; then they grew dim, the pendidum beat 
 slower, the machinery stopped. Then did I dig a 
 shallow bed and lined it with soft grasses, and laid 
 within and covered o'er with leaves and stones the 
 remnant of the creature's worthlessness. 
 
 While I had rested here the pain within my 
 breast had grown less, but yet with fiery dart would 
 burn when I thought upon that strange city and its 
 people. I said, " I will not return, but will make my 
 aljiding place, at least for a time, within this peace- 
 ful nook; here no unseemly sight is seen. Far 
 from the haunts of men 1 here will pleasure me." 
 
 Vain thoughts ! As my eyes were turned upon 
 the beauties of the rustic scene, a blot upon the land- 
 scape there appeared. A beast of burden tethered 
 with shortened rope, in burning sun. A horse, with 
 staring ribs and hollow temples, a moist displeasing 
 object to thus obtrude upon my tranquillity! I hated 
 it. Another soulless thing ! Why could not such 
 sufficient instinct have to disappear, when useless 
 and unbeauteous grown ! Their time was past, eter- 
 nal death their portion. That they could suffer I 
 would grant; though once that, too, was denied 
 them by learned men, claiming that they were 
 naught but unfeeling mechanisms. Yet it w^as found 
 that lash of whip or prick of spur could quicken 
 them to pull and struggle with the burden put upon 
 their beastly backs by master man, who generously 
 allowed them now a fellow-heritage in suffering, 
 toil and death, but could allow no aftermath of bliss 
 to such as these. So I looked upon the thing and 
 
Dreams. 73 
 
 hated it; and as that pain within my breast had 
 stronger grown, I restless was, and drew more 
 nearly to the beast and thought I now did recognize 
 the brute. So I did speak the name I deemed it bore. 
 Then the dejected head was lifted up, and, could it 
 • be, in recognition and joy, the horse did neigh? 
 Such strange tricks I find my fancy plays me in these 
 latter years that I did think it so. 
 
 My neighbor in yon city had a steed he reared 
 from colthood, as a playmate for his children. Proud 
 and high-spirited, yet gentle withal, coming at their 
 call and feeding from their hands. Many a tidbit he 
 was given, his equine palate to delight, and as he 
 older grew did draw abroad a human burden that 
 he loved — if he could love ! With naught to vex — a 
 pampered pet — save curb or check-rein tightly 
 drawn. Thus it was that he older grew within the 
 span of a beast's short life. 
 
 One unlucky day the horse stumbled, fell upon 
 the paved street and did strain the tendon of his 
 shapely leg, the cause — a barbed nail within his shoe 
 had pierced him, and thus it was he fell; 'twas sad, 
 for the horse desirable had been his master said, but 
 now was valueless to him, his elegance of bearing 
 gone. True the brute was growing old and tiresome, 
 too, in demonstration of attachment ; so he sold him 
 to an honest drayman. It mattered little now how 
 soon his days were ended by heavy, unaccustomed 
 burdens borne. Toil ! Slave ! Suffer ! Die ! For 
 this purpose was he created. Could the brute but 
 think (a thing impossible) he should be filled with 
 
74 lh\'ain<:. 
 
 i^ralrfiil inniioric's thai in the' (la\s of slrfiij^lli and 
 pride lir was \<v\)\ a prtted ])laylliinj4- hy those 
 lie loved and worshiped. The only j^od he knew 
 was his master man, and now he was driven onl in 
 strani^er's fold lo <lie ! 
 
 The (Ifayman was a worthy man, that earl\ toiled 
 and late; and this most stuhhoi-n hrnte did i;;rievc 
 him sore. At the very f'lrsl, when to the laden cart 
 he was. attached he did refnse to move, or, I should 
 say, after the lirst effort he stolid stood, and his 
 driver was conipelled to lash him until he himself 
 was e\hansle(l (piite and lime was lost. Tlien it was 
 most mipleasanl and disi:;nstin_i;- to those who thus 
 heheld the necessary lash, so well applied. When the 
 heas't (lid start he reared and plunged and most ma- 
 liciously did try to hreak the fettering' hold of leath- 
 ern honds. Mis destination rt'ached, his ui;lv tem- 
 pi'r had hijn so exercised Ihat he Iremhied as an as- 
 pen leaf, and nnich his purchaser did fear he would 
 escape- hy (lyin<;- ere he L;'ot his money's worth from 
 out his worthless carcass — a vicious hrute. Tt was 
 thus they s])oke and no nwv thought of untried mus- 
 cU's wrenched, but plied the lash and ur^ed him on 
 to Iresh t'xertion. /\t ni^ht \\v was ri'warded 1)\' a 
 scanty meal. No shelter from the cold or rain had 
 ho, that had heeii wont to l)e. for heast, most luxu- 
 riously housed. 
 
 The one who sold him heard of ihe strancfc tem- 
 per he had late developed, and was qiad he sold him. 
 llis new master would soon Hoy- the unruly heast 
 into submission, and \et the horse was not used so 
 
Dreams. 75 
 
 to act in days gone l)y, antl lie himself wt)ulcl have 
 thshked nuich \o \)\\ the lash, thongh it essential 
 was, for he did renienihei" well the horse's youthful 
 days, his pride of carriage and his elegance, for the 
 man was tender hearted. 
 
 'Twas true the hrute did grow suhmissive and toil 
 and do his new master's hidding day by day ; yet he 
 still was given to ((ueer hts of temper, and tried to 
 break away betimes until one day it chanced that 
 one did see that this did most frequently occur when 
 a voice from his old owner's children reached his 
 ear in passing by; then he was wont to, vex them. 
 Much they were inclined to dwell upon the graces 
 and the beauties of the steed they once did hold 
 which far surpassed, they oft were heard lo say, 
 those they now surpassed. When they were wont 
 thus to extol his virtues their friends would say, 
 " You must have ])rized him much, where in his age 
 doth pasture him that we may go and see this hero 
 of the equine race? " 
 
 vSo when this scarecrow thing, with staring ribs 
 and bended knees, with most dejected, drooping 
 head, would follow, it troubled them. Then would 
 the carter yell, " Gee up, ye fool," ply the lash and 
 say, " Young gentlemen, one would say the old boss 
 knew ye ; yer parding, sirs, the young gent's father 
 drove him m.any a year; gee up, ye fool." And so 
 it was. he more worthless grew and now was teth- 
 ered here to spare his present master the discomfort 
 of a quick (b'spatch ; for the new master, like the 
 old, was tender hearted, very ! And here the creature 
 
76 Dreams. 
 
 was to anger me. How strange it was the beast did 
 not remove, or like a clock with worn out machinery, 
 run down and stop. There surely must be some- 
 thing wrong about the soulless thing. I hated it, yet 
 I did call the old familiar name, and the horse did 
 strive to reach me and came as far as weakened limbs 
 and shortened tether would permit. Then I saw that 
 not one spear of herbage grew wuthin the space of 
 that most narrow round, not one drop of moisture 
 there, and fiercest heat did beat upon the spot, 
 though not far ofif was running brook, verdure green 
 and leafy trees ; T led it there, that feeble thing 
 which I now no longer hated, and that sharp smart 
 had left my breast. In its place had grown a strange, 
 new ache, which this short journey some way helped 
 to ease. 
 
 I left the creature there amid grasses green, by 
 running brook, nor hurt it with my voice, for could 
 it know, it, too, might fear some treachery. Once, 
 as it laid its head upon my arm, and I did smooth 
 its shaggy coat, I seemed to hear a voice which said, 
 " The merciful man is merciful to his beast." 
 " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain 
 mercy." 
 
 Again the voice said, " With what measure ye 
 mete it shall be measured to you again. Not a 
 sparrow falleth without the Father's notice." 
 
 I no longer hated the soulless beast, but hated 
 tyrant man, and thought how shall we then escape 
 if we so little mercy show to that o'er which we do 
 dominion have; how cry for pity who have shown 
 
Dreams. 77 
 
 none ? I grew yet more bitter, and I hated man. I 
 sought to rest me in the shadow of a giant oak that 
 did take firm foothold on the grassy knoH, and un- 
 derneath its sturdy branches sheker me from the 
 noon-day sun. ]\Iy pulse grows feverish, my head 
 doth burn, and I hate, yes, hate, most cruel man. 
 
 Thinkirg after this wise, I sat me down 'neath 
 grateful shade of most umbrageous tree. Presently 
 there did fan my brow a gracious air that, in- 
 breathed, gave a peaceful sense of great refreshment. 
 Closing mine eyes I fell to musing deeply, and heard 
 a voice, to me long silenced, save in memory or 
 dreams. This it said : " Remain, my child, regain 
 thy strength; while above thy defenseless head 
 stretch out the trusty oak trees' branches strong. 
 Yes, rest thee, and grow brave to bear life's battles. 
 Here, this lesson learn. I, the oak tree, am that 
 which from burning sun and drenching rain would 
 shelter thee. But the air is God's air that doth re- 
 fresh; and deep inbreathed doth vivify thine own 
 interior self from out the well of the Eternal Life. 
 Both are good, but better far the air." 
 
 The tree itself could not exist apart from the life- 
 given pulse borne upon the air — breath of the All- 
 P'ather's love, that doth come to all impartially. 
 
 It befell that as I rested the sky was overcast; 
 dark, sullen clouds did pile their purple blackness 
 until they did hang, pall-like, oppressing all wait- 
 ing life. Now a silence did affright, such as thou 
 hast felt before the breaking of terrific storm on 
 sultry day; yet no gracious drops of rain did fall. 
 
7^ Dreams. 
 
 More and more oppressive grew the breath of living 
 creatures. I gazed upon the darkened sky while 
 an insensate fear clutched at the citadel of life. Sud- 
 denly there grew upon the livid blackness a lustrous 
 cross, transcendent, pure and white, glowing with 
 soft luster like lucid pearl. 
 
 From east to west, from north to south, in splen- 
 did beauty, amid solemn silence hung the symbol of 
 that divine compassion, full and free, of the All- 
 father's love as shown to thee and me. In. silence 
 and amaze I looked and hushed my heart's tumultu- 
 ous throbbing, lest it a sacrilege should be. 
 
 Slowly, slowly, the radiant cross withdrew, 
 softly fading into the central heavens, but from 
 within and through the ragged edge of the rent veil 
 of cloud beamed glorious light, transcending far the 
 light of star, or moon, or sun. Yes, in that light 
 paled all their splendor, as the torches' feeble glow 
 in the blaze of midday sun. Yet this light so full, so 
 soft, so pure, so white, did not oppress my sight, but 
 rather fell with soothing on the spirit self. So T 
 looked and longed and wept : for all around, save 
 where the cross in majesty withdrew, still rolled the 
 clouds of darkest hue ; but there the soft, pure light 
 was streaming through, and it seemed as if a 
 shadow dark did form itself upon my very heart ; 
 the spirit self did grieve, for the cross — the cross to 
 which I clung in storm and tempest blast — was 
 gone, gone into the very highest heaven where I 
 could not follow it, and left but that glory streaming 
 
Dreams. 79 
 
 through rent veil of cloud as though its very shad- 
 ow formed itself to light. 
 
 So I wept and wept and strained my tear-dimmed 
 eyes, and did see, forming softly, stilly, as had pass- 
 ed the cross from sight, dawning clearer, clearer, 
 forming in that light as though it did enfold within 
 itself the spirit of that light, a dove with outspread 
 wings of silvery luster, coming, coming from the 
 innermost height of that great light, until it floated 
 just within the veil of darkness that the cross had 
 rent when it passed through, and waited, eager, yet 
 with the patience that doth know naught of time, 
 but great eternity. So it did wait ; and I who dwelt 
 in time — I waited, too — and on my spirit fell a sense 
 of weakness and I hid my eyes and whispered low, I 
 am not worthy, Lord, this sight to see ; too dull, too 
 sad, for I have said to sorrow, thou my mother art; 
 to grief, my sister thou. Disappointment waiteth on 
 my footsteps, and doth sup with me. 
 
 'As I spake a voice did say, "Look thou again, and 
 see." 
 
 Lo, on a sullen pool, on sodden ground, where 
 many a leaf had fallen and in its transit of decay had 
 blessed the darksome mould, a plant, green and vig- 
 orous did catch the light with leafy hands and there 
 unfold a lily pure with golden chalice, and did fill 
 with floating sweetness all the slumberous air. Then 
 came to me a voice which said, "What is that to thee 
 if so the gardener choose to lay the germ of that 
 so fair in darksome place? Why doth it trouble 
 
8o Dreams. 
 
 thee? And if of sorrow's cup thou oft hast drunk 
 the bitter lees, grieve not ; within some garden sweet 
 thou yet shalt find thy treasure rare, safe shehered 
 from the cruel winds that blow across the arid plains 
 of more material life." 
 
 While I listened there came around me and did 
 press me sore, dumb creatures with pleading eyes. 
 Then the voice did say, "What hatest thou?" I 
 said, not these, not these. Then said the voice again, 
 " What hatest thou ? "' I answer made, not tnee, 
 oh friend, not thee ! Then came a voice, sweet, 
 sweet as dew distilled within freshly blossomed hon- 
 eysuckle cup, beneath morning sun on mossy hill ; 
 and it did say, " I will abide with thee ; what hatest 
 thou?" I said the people in the city I did leave, and 
 I do well to hate. Sad came the voice, " I will abide, 
 abide with thee." T cried, I know thee new! But 
 still thy radiant face is hid. thy form I cannot see, 
 and yet 1 know thou art that guardian one to whom 
 God giveth me. 
 
 Low came the voice, " I will abide, abide with 
 thee." 
 
 Refreshed I then arose and journeyed on ; and 
 what was strange to me those dumb creatures did no 
 longer me annoy, and soon did disappear, save one ; 
 a ringdove some archer shot in wanton sport did fall 
 within my lap ere I had left the shelter of the tree. 
 Its timid mate was left with nestlings three, and 
 long its voice did follow me cooing, cooing mourn- 
 fully. So the more I hated man who did disturb 
 Nature's calm serenity. Now my mood did change. 
 
Dreams. 8i 
 
 I sought for gold; for in these hills I had been told 
 was many a vein of precious yellow metal. 
 
 Though the skies were blue and fields were fair, 
 and honey-bees were gathering- sweets amid the 
 deep green grass from crimson-tinted clover, 
 their drowsy hum came like mellow music 
 to the ear, I heeded not and cared not for 
 such scenes and dreams of rest and sweet 
 content, but pressed on toward the rugged 
 mountains in search of gain. I said, much wealth 
 I will amass and then return to that city that I left, 
 and will show to them their most conremptible es- 
 tate; their spitefulness and greed; will tell them 
 of their slanderous tongues and selfish lives. Also 
 how they do abuse those poor dumb creatures God 
 has given into their care. I'll score them well and 
 they dare noit gainsay, for I'll have wealth and 
 wealth is power. Besides is it not well that they 
 should hearken, for have I not advanced beyond 
 their feeble knowledge ; a most despicable and ig- 
 norant crew. I'll none of them, but hold the mir- 
 ror to their faces that they may see themselves con- 
 temptible ; and hate that image as I now hate them. 
 A kindly deed it were in one so far advanced as I, 
 thus to return to let them see they should be noble, 
 pure, and good, like — why, yes, like me ! 
 
 I would not have one of their children lay ca- 
 ressing hand on me. I hated them. As I mused 
 and vaunted thus a dizzy faintness overcame my 
 strength, and then it was I found that o'er my heart 
 that spot that pained me sore, had puffed up livid 
 
82 Dreams. 
 
 and dark, as though a most mahgnant humor had 
 settled there. Ah, pity me! too long I dwelt with- 
 in the walls of the accursed city. Ah ! woe is me, 
 I cried, staggered and would have fallen but that 
 I came in contact with a shocking thing — a sleeping 
 babe in gaudy, tattered, mantle wrapped, and — well, 
 the tale is told ; its father's name was Treachery ; 
 its mother's Shame ; be sure, an outcast brat from 
 that great city vile ; I hated it. 
 
 Although I would that I were far away, I found 
 I needs must stop awhile for I grew faint. Then 
 to turn my mind from mine own grievous state, I 
 looked upon the child and thought upon its fate. A 
 mother — well, perliaps not all unfeeling. The cloak 
 had told that she had stripped herself to clothe the 
 child. Then, too, she might have rid herself of the 
 unwelcome one — such arts are practised — ere it 
 breathed, a living child. A wanton woman? Well, 
 perhaps, an orphan girl fair of face and weak of 
 mind, hungering for love thus betrayed where most 
 she trusted. A wanton ? May be so ! All her life 
 denied the luxuries for which she had longed. 
 Looked on and scorned for poverty, and in mad mo- 
 ment, sold the heritage of virtue for promise easy 
 broke, for so the tattered garment told. She now 
 had gone back to the city, a wicked, vengeful thing ; 
 I hated her. 
 
 The father? Ah, well! there is such different 
 judgment for the two. How so? Not the great 
 God before; well, in that city then! It were a little 
 thing to break a trusting woman's heart and send 
 
Dreams. 83 
 
 a hapless child into the world to be jeered at, may- 
 hap by its own brethren. A little sowing of wild 
 oats, a thing to smile about and slyly joke. He may 
 be married to the daughter of a most distinguishell 
 potentate within the city walls ; so slight a fault, 
 so light man's virtue held. Moreover, who could 
 tell ? No doubt the woman lied, a brazen thing like 
 all her kind ! A pity, all would say, his life's bright 
 prospect wrecked by such an one. How I hated 
 him ! The babe moved and moaned in its sleep. 
 Perhaps my fixed gaze did it disturb. Poor hapless 
 one, and should I visit on thy feeble self and hate 
 thee for thy parent's sins ! 
 
 This life has bitter lessons for us all. even the 
 more favored ones. These must thou learn, and 
 bear as well the heritage of scorn thy father gave. 
 All will ready be to think thee vile ; however, so 
 thou doth strive to grow to honor and esteem, by 
 virtuous deed and goodly life, there is none will have 
 it so. I hate thee not. thou desolate, and I will take 
 thee up and keep thee until the All-Father, the 
 great Good, shall call thee to his justice merciful. 
 
 I took and held within my arms that outcast child 
 and it looked up into my face and smiled and laid 
 its hand upon my breast, just o'er my heart where 
 most it ached ; and strange to say. it pained me 
 not ; and as I soothed its eyes to slumber I could 
 hear the drov/sy bees yet humming in the nodding 
 crimson clover. 
 
 The voice said, "What hatest thou?" I said, 
 not this, nor bird nor beast, but the people, the 
 
84 Dreams. 
 
 people of the city. Sad was the voice that said again, 
 " I will, I will abide with thee." 
 
 Kind friend, thou niay'st not care to learn what 
 befell the outcast child and nic. If thou dost, the 
 child did gro\V in grace; fair of face and strong 
 of limb, and with many a winsome, childish art did 
 ofttimes win my heart from sorrow; and, truth to 
 say as often wrought the other way and added to 
 burdens heavy. Of strange, wayward, reckless tem- 
 per, was the child betimes ; again, dreamy, moody, 
 silent; most difficult to understand, and of all coun- 
 sel ofttimes more than careless. Then came re- 
 pentance sw'ift, with smiles and tears, and clasping 
 childish hands, and piteous lisping pleadings; and 
 oft I thought, poor little one, should I cast thee off 
 who else will undertake to train the thorny rose 
 within thy spirit's garden, to blossom sweet? Yet 
 sad, discouraged oft, I mused, it is all in vain ; 
 what profit I with all my toil? True, mother's love 
 is sweet ; to strive for one's own child is but to 
 strive for one's own self in other form, and in their 
 gain and glory they too are glorified. Mother's 
 love is pure and shared alike by human kind and 
 beast. 
 
 What is that to me, the child is none of mine; and 
 should she grow to lovely womanhood the mother 
 that did cast her off may claim her by the tie of kin- 
 dred and I be left alone ; no recompense for sacrifice 
 of years, or may not claim her gracious wavs as 
 mine. Then would come that childish face wath 
 troubled look, and for comfort in my bitter mood 
 
Dreams. 85 
 
 the child would place within my hand a withered 
 flower or treasured broken toy. Smile I would lest 
 tear of pity flow for childhood desolate. Then the 
 little one would sing for joy to see the shadows 
 flee and life pursue the old accustomed tenor of its 
 way. 
 
 As she grew in years I did again renew my in- 
 tercourse with the vast world of people, for the 
 maid needs must learn to perfect herself in devious 
 ways and many arts, and thus gain a knowledge 
 to m.aintain her prestige in this life of strife. With- 
 in the city I myself would venture never, and I 
 hated — yes, I hated — the people; but the maid was 
 sweet-natured and loved as I hated the people. She 
 said they were beautiful, kind, and good — the peo- 
 ple of that city to which I would not so much as 
 turn my eyes. Once she told me of a lovely lady 
 who had taken her in her arms and kissed her, 
 while great tears did fall upon her face, and she 
 did show to me a golden locket this one had placed 
 within her hand and it contained the image of a 
 charming face not unlike the maiden's. 
 
 She said : " Now, dear friend, she is no more — 
 dead, and all were glad; none were sorry." " Was 
 it because she suffered so? "' she questioned me. I 
 could not tell, for I had hated her. Still, the maid 
 went in and out the city, and learned lessons strange 
 and new to me. Once she did return with lips that 
 quivered pitifully, and tear-dimmed, wide-opened, 
 wondering eyes, and told that she had found a 
 man, weak and old, sitting by the wayside, and re- 
 
86 Dreams. 
 
 freshed from out her stores his most pathetic feeble- 
 ness; how he touched her hair with trembling" hand 
 and said, " This golden hair and eyes of blue do 
 have a look strangely familiar to me, like one I 
 knew that loved me once; but I was false if she was 
 true." 
 
 " How well I can recall those bright hours, though 
 years have traced their footprints fast between those 
 days and this sad time." How I hated him ! Then 
 my maid most mercifully did say that strong men 
 came and dragged away to barred cell the lunatic 
 they called dangerous in his lunacy. She learned 
 that he had been a man of influence and wealth 
 witbm the city; had married, late in life, a woman 
 who cared not for him but much for gold. Their 
 children scorned him in his feebleness, for they too 
 cared not for anything but gold. 
 
 Tliey proclaimed him imbecile and placed him 
 within a prison's walls. The while high revelry was 
 held with his most treasured gold. He was prating 
 ever of Miriam and her child. Who was she? 
 Some did say a figment of a shattered mind. How- 
 ever, there were those who said : " Nay, nay, I 
 once did hear of one, a lovely woman to whom he 
 was betrothed and was by him betrayed, left with 
 her child (to strugg-le for shame's bitter bread." 
 How I pitied her ! " The child — no one could tell 
 what had befallen it. The woman in the city dwelt 
 for years, a terror and a scorn, and died at last by 
 her own hand, to the great relief of all good per- 
 sons." 
 
D reams. 87 
 
 When I heard the story, the more I hated all the 
 people of the city; yes, and hated that old man 
 more than them all; yet, now one word did form 
 itself within the darkness of my mind — ^that word 
 was. recompense ; and I no longer hated. But no 
 more did I let go niy sweet maid to the city. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 It happened once that I had been told, just when 
 or where I could not tell you, of a beautiful garden 
 where there grew all manner of lovely flowers and 
 jewels of the flora! kingdom. It was said that the 
 owner of the garden was most generously inclined ; 
 he never had been known to refuse entrance to any 
 who desired admission, even though they might be 
 travel-stained and weary, poor, sick, or afflicted — 
 all were equally welcome to its restful arbors. I 
 knew not how that nught be, but I did know only 
 this, that I hated the city and all the people where- 
 soever I might meet them ; but it did appear as if 
 I could escape them never ; for now. when my Fe- 
 licia and I were walking most leisurely along, en- 
 joying the peaceful scene of rural beauty, the quiv- 
 ering air \\'as rent and there did come sounds of 
 most unseemly discord. Within a dainty cottage, 
 such as one might dream would shelter love and 
 sweet content, were seated two. a man and woman 
 old in vears, and one would hope that after they had 
 
88 Dreams. 
 
 passed the summer of their lives, and autmnn 
 weather grew quite ch'eary — for winter's coming 
 was so near — th.at they in blissful true companion- 
 ship would dwell, and often would remind each other 
 of the days gone by, of the trials they together bore, 
 of joy and pleasures shared; would think of the 
 faces they could picture of kindred and of friends in 
 days of old, of births, marriages, and deaths; would 
 speak of graves that they had stood beside, when 
 falling clod on coffin-lid told that earthly toil was 
 over ; when mortality was laid aside, and the eman- 
 cipated spirit freed from fettering garb that had 
 become too small and worn to longer clothe the ego 
 struggling to attain that for which it was from the 
 beginning destined — the fetters broke to soar aloft 
 as butterfly from chrysalis. 
 
 No such themes did they enjoy, but did reproach 
 each other until the very air was thick and black 
 with lamentations. For some time it was impossible 
 to disentangle the black and scarlet of their strong 
 upbraiding; but at last the woman, exhausted with 
 vociferous exertion, ceased for a moment's space. 
 The man's tremulous voice then became more aud- 
 ible, as he his story told. 
 
 I did hate — yes. hate — them, and would not have 
 sto]:)ped to liearken to their calumnies, had not the 
 old familiar pain now stung me sharply. So it was 
 I needs must stop and, as I rested, hear, perforce, 
 their stories. The man spoke first and, sad to sav, 
 his theme was still the old, old story (the woman 
 did it). He ?poke of struggling, toiling, childhood. 
 
Dreams. 89 
 
 How he ever strove to elevate himself and gain a 
 higher round in life's scale of honor and of opulence. 
 He gained eminence among his fellow men. A 
 leader he in a generation past which did breed men 
 strong of mind and body. He also won and wed the 
 village belle. Beautiful of face was she and light 
 of foot, no sweeter voice than hers was heard among 
 the sweet-voiced maidens in the village ; and said 
 the old man, with yearning tenderness at the mem- 
 ory : " I opine that in all her ways there was 
 no one more winsome than my Alary. Now look 
 upon that scowling face, and didst thou hear her 
 shrill voice when you came in but now ?" Sweet 
 voice and winsome way ! Ah, truly, yet as I did say, 
 in those days it was not so ; and well she knew a 
 wom.an's place in due submission to her husband's 
 wdll. 
 
 No usurper of man's divine prerogative was she. 
 as those who in the present day do fret the public 
 ear and so assert themselves that I am 
 told they struggle to have at least a rep- 
 resenting in the laws that govern this our 
 land. A woful thing; it is well that I will 
 be gone before this great calamity shall overtake this 
 free and glorious country. Then he shook his head 
 most dismallv as if it were more than he could con- 
 template in placid humor. I hated him ; and to re- 
 call the subject of our discourse then did say, your 
 wife — we were speaking of your wife. " Well, ves, 
 I did tell ; she to her household duties did attend, and 
 also many children bore. She, as was her duty as 
 
90 Dreams. 
 
 the weaker vessel, did not question my will or way 
 in anything ; but recognized my most divine author- 
 ity as was wise. No neater, cleaner home, or better 
 table set than ours in all the country. Many guests 
 were welcomed there for 1 was called wise, and they 
 came to consult me on questions of importance. 
 
 As a good wife should, who glorified in her hus- 
 band's honor, Mary did attend their needs and all 
 did praise her courtesy and skillful cooking. I will 
 say most cheerfully did she entertain, although I do 
 remember now that when our babes were small, 
 sometimes she spoke of being very weary and did 
 wish for time in which to become acquainted with 
 her children, that she might help them to choose 
 their life's vocation. 
 
 I told her that her duty was to bear and nurture 
 them, I myself, would attend to the business they 
 should follow, these were our sons. Should they 
 dare to cavil at my wise appointing I would know 
 how to deal with such insubordination in the home 
 where I was the law-giver and the master. 
 
 Concerning our daughters, I was indulgent, very. 
 If they were like their mother, I was well content. 
 In one thing only would I exercise my due authority. 
 They should marry men of mine own choosing. Re- 
 garding that I would be firm and they could trust 
 their father to choose well among his friends and 
 acquaintances. I told my wife she need not trouble 
 regarding their welfare, provided she but did her 
 duty and taught them to respect their father's 
 wishes. 
 
Dreams. 91 
 
 In this I was sadly disappointed as you will learn. 
 Now with shrill voice and clamorous tongue their 
 mother doth upbraid me as cause of all their sorrow. 
 It has often been said of inconsistency — Thy name 
 is woman. This I now do know. 
 
 As if my griefs were not enough, those I hoped to 
 bear my honored name with glory and distinction 
 have gone to their untimely graves in infamy and 
 shame ; and I must now endure this most discordant 
 railing from one who, had she cultivated her intel- 
 lect instead of wasting precious moments in idle 
 gossip, could have reared brave sons and daughters 
 fair to solace our old age, and herself have been a 
 companion to me, in the true meaning of the word." 
 
 The wife said, scowling darkly, " Companion I? " 
 What of her, that painted courtesan with whom you 
 did consort until she cast you off for men of fuller 
 purses and younger years? " Companion I? " The 
 old man answered, " It is true I do acknowledge, 
 and thus it came about. I toiled earnestly and wil- 
 lingly for wife and children, for you see I loved 
 them. None can say that I did grudgingly 
 provide or saved myself through weary years, 
 if so be I could minister in all ways to 
 their comfort. I was ambitious, and did strive 
 to gain an eminence among my fellow men, 
 and I did gain that for which I strove, 
 then came to her. my wife, for sympathy. I sought 
 to tell to her my plans and wishes, longed to take 
 her with me that she might share the honors that 
 were gladly given me by those who knew my worth. 
 
92 Dreams. 
 
 She did not care to go, she was weary, or some 
 household duty claimed her time. Besides, those 
 prating women we should see whom she despised. 
 They talked of books and nnisic, had what they 
 called New Ideas, and did try to make themselves on 
 an equality with men. For her part, she would 
 rather talk with one who knew her place and could 
 concoct a toothsome dish, or give a recipe for some 
 new pickle. As for me I had not been wont to talk 
 such nonsense as I did of late ; my folly vexed her 
 sadly. Then she would tell a new cure for colds, 
 for Mary was a famous nurse ; kind, gentle, tender, 
 and did know just where the mustard's soothing 
 smart would heal a piercing pain. A cure for colds 
 forsooth ! My very heart was cold when I knew she 
 did not comprehend aught of that in which I hoped 
 to interest her. I would have been pleased could I 
 have found a caustic to arouse her dormant facul- 
 ties. 
 
 Another thing; I saw her face that had been 
 wont to be so comely wore now the old and haggard 
 look of one who had toiled far beyond her strength 
 and had passed many sleepless nights. I could not 
 account for this ; there had been nothing to employ 
 her time except simple household duties and care of 
 our children. It did appear that in idleness and 
 slothfulness she must have passed much of her time 
 so far as the cultivation of the rich treasures of her 
 mind required mental industry. 
 
 It was a cruel blow when I found so little sym- 
 pathy, for I loved both wife and children. I could 
 
Dreams. 93 
 
 find outside my home those who did understand and 
 appreciate my worth. One especially, younger by 
 many years than I, but of most brilliant mind, whose 
 every word did answer to my thought as answers 
 the reflected image in the mirror to those who look 
 upon its polished surface. I sought her often foi 
 she voiced my very self. 
 
 Caught by the witchery of smiles and subtle flat- 
 tery I thought I loved her and for a time forgot my 
 allegiance to my faithful wife and to our children 
 who were now but grief and sorrow to me. Ap- 
 probation's honeyed tongue lured me into the dark 
 ways of forbidden pleasures ; too late I learned my 
 folly. The depth of thought I did conceive as 
 answering to mine own. was indeed as the reflection 
 on the polished surface of the mirror — a glittering 
 mockery ; echoing sounds ; and w'ords of approba- 
 tion flowed as swiftly toward any source that did 
 supply the golden lining for her treasury. A strong 
 disgust did fill my soul and I did grieve that I had 
 wasted my manhood's prime with one so trivial. 
 
 Then it was I said, 1 will return to her with whom 
 I know truth doth abide. For ever in my heart in all 
 my wanderings did live in love the image of the one 
 whom I did wed. It is true w^e had drifted far from 
 each other and I held her the guilty cause of much 
 of my weakness ; for had she striven she might have 
 been my counselor and friend, as well as wdfe, and 
 had not given to our children such distempered 
 minds as led to acts whose strange wilfulness could 
 find no counterpart in either father's or mother's 
 
94 Dreams. 
 
 lives ; for in her younger days, ere sloth had grown 
 rank weeds begot by ignorance, there was no keener 
 wit or brighter thought amid all our friends than 
 Mary's. I said, I will tell her all my folly ; how I 
 came to stray afar for that companionship on the 
 wide plane of knowledge, that I could not find with 
 her whose mind was elsew^here turned. Also the 
 bitter disappointment that I felt in the children 
 whom she had taught, did drive me farther from 
 what should have been my resting place, my home. 
 Mary thus shall learn her fault and I know will wel- 
 come me with due contrition; for she was ever just 
 of. mind and lenient ; and moreover she was trained 
 in those past days, when wisest thought did claim a 
 woman's highest duty was to submit in all things to 
 her husband's larger mind, to employ herself with 
 that which did most minister to his comfort: Thus 
 did my wife ever strive apparently, to serve and it 
 doth trouble me to understand the bitter aftermath 
 of latter years. 
 
 It was with strong repentance I did return to her 
 whom I still loved with all my truer self, and I did 
 say, " Although discouragement brought by thy 
 lack of wisdom has led to this, I will forget your 
 faults if you forgive the errors to which those faults 
 in you have driven me. Again we two will our love 
 renew and trv to strengthen the poor shattered walls 
 of this our .ater home ; so at least the bitter breath 
 of cold adversity may leave us in peace for the sad 
 remnant of our withered years. But behold this 
 woman whom I did picture as in my youth, sweetly 
 
Dreams. 95 
 
 acquiescent to my will, did break forth in strong 
 reviling and cry out, she cared naught since all she 
 loved was lost. I brought her here from out the 
 city that none should hear her ravings. In this one 
 thing I fear I was to blame ; I did not know the 
 woman's mind so weak and incapable of reasoning. 
 1 will strive to care for the poor creature until with 
 gladness I shall lay the disappointment of all my 
 toiling years low in the dust." 
 
 Thus speaking the old man bowed his head with- 
 in his hands in the dreary sorrow of old age, then 
 said : " \ es, listen if you will, to causeless ravings 
 of her disordered mind. Mayhap it will comfort 
 her. Then I did pity him whom I had thought to 
 hate and hated her who now approached and sought 
 to speak. I had too little patience with the babblings 
 of a disordered mind. She said : " You are a 
 woman and will understand ; none other could. 
 Mine was a happy childhood — sheltered by a kind 
 father's care, watched by a mother's tender love. 
 There I was happy; oh, so happy! and happiness 
 doth bear such precious unguents within her reper- 
 tory that many called me fair. You will not cry me 
 shame for pride in those past years when you look 
 upon this bended form, wrinkled face and v^hitened 
 hair. It was also said in that far time that I was 
 sweet of nature and quick of mind, though there be 
 those wdio deem me otherwise at this late day. Ah 
 well ! this I know, I loved all both great and small, 
 and to all trusts was faithful. Ever most diligently 
 did I strive to learn all those humble arts that then 
 
96 Dreams. 
 
 was thought a woman's ckity ; and it was said I did 
 attain to excellence in all gentle ways that minister 
 to pleasures of the table, or maintained the joys of 
 home. Ever as I wrought I dreamt of some glad 
 day when one should come to whom my woman's 
 heart should turn in loving trust. At dewy eve when 
 the pale moon looked down and bathed the sleeping 
 world in mellow light, then would I pray, Sweet 
 Luna, thou wdio it is said doth rule all women's 
 destiny, send thou to me some dream of him, that 
 future lover, whose smile shall brighten e'en the 
 darkest night that life may know ; and at morn when 
 golden sunbeams softly filtered through the snowy 
 drapery of my flower-wreathed window, and waked 
 me to the world of beauty. I would say. Oh day so 
 bright and fair, and dost thou bring to me the sun 
 of all my day? Oh happy singing-bird on fragrant 
 blossoming bough, by morning breezes lightly 
 swung, that doth pour forth from happy throat 
 liquid music's voice of thanks for mate and 
 fledglings tiny! Not more glad your song than 
 mine shall be in those bright future hours, 
 when we, my husband and heart's king and 
 1, shall build hope's castles fair above the cradle 
 of our cherub pledge of love. That brought by 
 God's ow^n messenger is trusted to our care that it 
 might learn the lesson that the spirit needs must 
 have missed had it remained within the crystal ele- 
 ment of life in God's own fold where every child 
 has birth, so we are told, ere it fluttereth forth to 
 find its earthly garment. Friend, you may see in 
 
Dreams. 97 
 
 all this dreaming there was naught of sense or 
 shame, only love — love pure and untainted from the 
 fount of God's own love ; and being a woman you 
 can understand the dreaming. How that dream 
 hath ended I will tell ; then you will know the 
 Marah of all my bitterness ; whence doth flow the 
 water of my living now. 
 
 *' From far off time of idle dreaming, I wear on 
 my heart one shadow that brings sorrow to my mem- 
 ory now. That was mine own scorning of my elder 
 sister who dwelt unwed within my father's home. 
 Altogether I was not to blame, for in that time one 
 who had passed beyond the sunny milestone of her 
 life, unwed, was subject fit for taunt or sneering 
 ridicule, for had she not failed in woman's mission ? 
 Her duty it was, by all the artifices known to her 
 sex, to gain a husband ; little matter how ungainly 
 he. Better that than spinster life. 
 
 " Having won the man, her pleasure then to make 
 herself subservient to his wishes, to echo back his 
 word as echoes the shrill parrot in its cage the 
 voice it hears — to bear him children and to be her- 
 self the mouthpiece of the great ruler of their home ; 
 happy if having fulfilled that required with dili- 
 gence, she might win admission at heaven's gate and 
 live a faint memory shadow of their father's will 
 within her children's hearts, when she herself, with 
 meekly folded hands above a pulseless breast would 
 lay down her tired heart and weary brain, within an 
 early grave to rest. All this, Salome, my elder sis- 
 ter knew and heeded not. Thus she became, as I 
 
98 Dreams. 
 
 have said, a subject for the foohsh scorning of mine 
 ignorance. Serene did she pursue her way. Her 
 tender hand in latter days made soft the pillow of 
 our dying sire, and did pluck the thorns of care 
 from our mother's brow in her widowed years. She 
 cared for our wounded brother, when from the bat- 
 tle came he home to die, and did add many busy, 
 useful years to his erstwhile broken life. She did 
 rear the orphan children of a friend to lives of brave 
 deeds and noble works. She it was, who robed in 
 snowy garmjents for their last sleep, mine own 
 sweet blasted buds from off the tree of life. 
 
 " When full of years and kindly deeds she laid 
 her down in peace to sleep, a haunting smile was on 
 her lips as though her eyes in passing glimpsed fair 
 paradise. Her ears had heard the words, ' Well 
 done, come thou up higher.' All the village people 
 wept and said that they a friend had lost ; and most, 
 I think, forgot that she had missed her mission, that 
 her life was not well rounded out as wife and 
 mother. 
 
 " Now methinks that there be many wives and 
 mothers ; but few friends in life's more homely 
 needs, such as Salome, my spinster sister. 
 
 " But I have wandered far from the ever-varying 
 story of my life. You will excuse, but of late it 
 hath troubled me to know whether I or Salome 
 failed in woman's highest duty. I have grown this 
 shrill-voiced, fretful, scolding thing that now you 
 see ; in this a faithful picture of my husband's words. 
 Why it Is so he cannot understand and that doth 
 
Dreams. 99 
 
 vex me more than all things else. My children — ah, 
 me! I will tell, and sister woman, thou canst see if 
 I have aug-ht to grieve or trouble me. 
 
 " One gala day when spring did wear her velvet 
 robe of glowing life, but just escaped from chilly 
 winter's fettering grasp, and when all the little rills 
 did laugh, with happy gurgle, glad from icy bond- 
 age to be free, there to our village came a youth with 
 fbon hair and darkly glancing eyes; one who bore 
 himself as born a king among his fellows. Strong 
 and brave, yet with gentle courtesy. Tall and 
 straight, broad shouldered too. None would dare 
 to anger him by word or deed, for quick was he to 
 avenge an insult or an injury. A maid might trust 
 him and, feel safe as in her father's loving care ; for 
 he was true, and she would find no trust betrayed 
 by him. He was one of nature's noblest mould of 
 noble men. A happy, happy day I deemed it when 
 fell his choice on me, a simple village maiden. How 
 I loved — nay, worshiped him ; for was he not to me 
 the sum and whole of all existence ! " 
 
 As she spoke, the old man, grieving, said, " Had 
 you spoken in this manner at that time, I would not 
 tlien have strayed so far from the dear old home that 
 sheltered us." 
 
 The woman replied, " If so, I was to blame. To 
 you it is known I was taught not to express myself 
 on any subject openly, it would have been consid- 
 ered most unwomanly. Now my age hath given me 
 license." Then she continued: 
 
 " One happy day we two were wed. The village 
 
 LofC. 
 
loo Dreams. 
 
 children strewed our path with por'es. We were 
 the pride of all our friends, and bv them loved sin- 
 cerely. 
 
 " Reginald had Iniilt a pretty cottage, and we 
 with care had furnished it as was our pride and 
 pleasure. Sweet roses clustered around the rustic 
 doorway and by its step so lowly. Blue violets and 
 mignonette, spice pinks and lavender, did breathe 
 their prayers in odors sweet around our cottage 
 holy. Adown the path on either side were holly- 
 hocks, like sentinel soldiers standing. The sun- 
 flower too, did turn its head to catch the light on 
 every golden petal, and poppies there did flaunt their 
 blossoms ruddy. So peaceful was our home that it 
 was like a restful haven to all who came within its 
 borders. Aly husband's love was mine arid I did 
 trust him truly ; life was full of joy and hope with- 
 in our humble cottage. There was born our eldest 
 son ; there too, our sweetest daughter. The boy was 
 like his father with ebon hair and eyes of jet; yet it 
 was said he had my features. It was my heart's de- 
 light to watch his gentle ways when playing with 
 his lovely sister. Her hair was flaxen, her eyes as 
 blue as the summer sky above us. She had many a 
 happy, winsome way so tender and so loving. She 
 has gone to another world — ni}' love child — broken- 
 hearted. She dared to brave her father's will and 
 wed the one her heart had chosen. Her father 
 would forgive her, never; and for this she grieved 
 and mourned ; for to him in all else she was his 
 most loving daughter. Soon death did claim the 
 
Dreams. loi 
 
 husband, and when her babe was born she bowed 
 her head Hke the snow-drop in the storm, and went 
 to rest forever. 
 
 "The boy yet hves; and strange to say, is now our 
 only solace. He d'wells within the city walls but 
 often he comes hither to see what may be done for 
 our comfort and our pleasure. I would be pleased 
 if you could see the boy so brave and handsome. 
 
 " Our eldest son was a strange child ; he was 
 dreaming ever. Strange questions he would ask 
 m.e, ' Mother, what makes the sky so blue, where the 
 stars like gold dust sparkle? Was it God that paint- 
 ed the butterfly's wings, and are they like a baby 
 angel's?' He would talk by the hour to a tiny 
 flower and sing songs about the posies. He was very 
 fond of all living things, would mourn over a bird 
 with a broken wing like any fond, true lover. This 
 boy, his father said, should be a soldier. It would 
 cure him of his foolish trick of dreaming. Yet he 
 the boy to college sent, and was very fond and 
 proud of him for he was studious and did excel and 
 won many coveted honors. At last they dis- 
 agreed; the lad would not be a soldier. Harsh 
 words then followed quickly and our Richard went 
 sailing across the water. After this his father for- 
 bid that Ave should speak his name within our house- 
 hold circle. 
 
 " Not long ago to me there came one who brought 
 a treasured token ; and he said. ' He whom all men 
 delight to honor sent this and said to tell you some 
 day I will return; my loving, patient mother!' 
 
I02 Dreams. 
 
 Sometimes I see that his father scans books and 
 papers very closely and I find a mark that he has 
 made where our son's name was written ; for he has 
 gained both praise and fame in the land to which he 
 went a rover. 
 
 " Had I other children? Yes, there were brothers 
 twin, a charming younger daughter, and other little 
 ones who have gone to live beyond death's silent 
 river. Sad to say, I was so busy, tired and worn, I 
 had but little time to know my younger children. 
 My husband has said he was ambitious. I for him 
 was ambitious also, and before the younger sons 
 were born we did strive, mind and body, to gain 
 wealth. We deprived ourselves of many things 
 that even health required, so eager were we to amass 
 the golden treasure. 
 
 " At that time I did suffer much for luxuries your 
 woman's wisdom will tell you I often craved most 
 sadly. Though I must a strict accounting give, 
 sometimes temptation was so strong that I withheld 
 that with which to purchase what my condition did 
 require. Our sons were strong, handsome, brave ; 
 but, as I said, I had little time to become acquainted 
 with them. My husband had acquired a reputation 
 much to be desired, and I will say, he was most 
 worthy of respect and admiration. Many guests 
 were entertained by us, for Reginald was hospita- 
 bly inclined. This taxed me far beyond my strength 
 for although my husband did amply provide and we 
 had servants many, yet so anxious was I to meet all 
 requirements that I thought it no more than I should 
 
Dreams. 103 
 
 do, to oversee, and in many things, minister to the 
 pleasures of our friends. I also passed many sleep- 
 less nights ; for it was about this time our children 
 were afflicted with disorders peculiar to their age ; 
 and some, as I have said, are now within God's 
 heavenly fold. 
 
 " Their father I would not disturb through all 
 these sleepless nights of mine, for I knew that he 
 niust rest if he would attain that to which he anx- 
 iously aspired. I may be selfish, but I have often 
 regretted that he succeeded, for I found myself un- 
 able to enjoy the society of those with whom our 
 lot was cast. I had not had the time to cultivate the 
 arts and graces our eminent position now rendered 
 necessary, which I strove earnestly to gain at that 
 late time. No one can ever know the struggle and 
 the tears it cost me. How I tried to interest my 
 husband in our home and simple homely pleasures 
 such as he had been wont to praise in our earlier 
 married life. It was in vain ; he did despise those 
 simple pleasures. 
 
 " One who had often been our guest did more 
 his time employ. I will not speak of her, my heart 
 has grown so bitter; he himself has told the story. 
 My mirror showed to me gray hairs were coming 
 thicklv and wrinkles did form themselves upon my 
 pallid cheeks. 
 
 " It was now was born our youngest daughter. 
 Our sons had grown to be handsome boys like, yet 
 unlike, twin brothers. One has been successful and 
 does dwell near in the city. He is a courted million- 
 
I04 Dreams. 
 
 aire; yet he is selfish, very. In youth it was not 
 noted much ; he was clever and quick to drive a bar- 
 gain, but was said to be honest to a penny, although 
 it was remarked he always claimed as his the extra 
 pennies. All he gained he kept and never squan- 
 dered any. His brother was of that same mind re- 
 garding getting of the pennies, but what was denied 
 him he took by force and never saved he any. Now 
 he dwells in a prison cell and has added to our 
 heart aches many. Well has their father said, these 
 two resemble neither parent, for we were never sel- 
 fishly inclined, and to gain wealth were never 
 greedy, except that short time before these sons 
 were born, when we were striving to -attain that 
 which my husband did desire to aid him in his 
 great ambition. Honest? no one could ever say but 
 we were strictly honest, unless it should be called a 
 crime when I failed to account in that same time un- 
 to my husband regarding all the moneys. It shamed 
 me then that I did desire such strange and curious 
 condiments ; not but my husband would have given 
 me had I but asked, but never thought I needed 
 money. In truth he thought I did not know its 
 value. This also made me hesitate when I perhaps 
 should have spoken. 
 
 " So you see, friend, how very strange it is we 
 have two sons, one a selfish millionaire and one in a 
 felon's prison. Our daughter was a charming maid 
 in all her manner ; beautiful in face and form and 
 of most graceful carriage. She was also very 
 clever; all advantages she improved and is in all 
 
Dreams. 105 
 
 ways most brilliant and accomplished. Yes, she is 
 married to her father's choice, although she loved 
 another. He whom she loved has far surpassed the 
 one she married. Although her husband is a worthy 
 and respected man there in the city, she now dwells 
 an unloved and unloving wife, though they have 
 many children. Since I have told you my story, are 
 you yet surprised that when he, my husband, did 
 return and say that althovigh he had repented, he 
 still held me the guilty cause of all his folly that I 
 was vexed and cried ? I did not care since all our 
 lives were wasted." 
 
 As she spoke she turned to where the old man sat ; 
 the tears ran down his furrowed cheeks, and he 
 said, " We were to blame ; I the most, my Mary." 
 She elapsed his hand and said, " Nay, nay, we were 
 both to blame, but I the most, my husband." 
 
 I left them there for I felt it holy ground where 
 dwelt those victims of a barbarous custom. 
 
 Soft came the voice, "What hatest thou? What 
 hatest thou?" I said, "Not thee, oh friend, nor 
 bird, nor beast, nor child, nor yet this man and 
 woman." 
 
 Soft came the voice, " What hatest thou? " and I 
 said. " The people, the people of the city ! " Low 
 was the voice and sad. It said, " These are from 
 within the city." I answered, " There are others 
 yet within the city." 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 It might appear strange to some that any one 
 feeling such a disHke as myself should ever permit 
 himself to become interested in any persons from 
 the city for which I had conceived so great a dis- 
 taste. Yet I am sure you would not have deemed it 
 so strange had you yourselves become acquainted 
 with the elderly couple that I mentioned in the pre- 
 ceding chapter. 
 
 So kindly disposed did they become, so anxious 
 to make amends to each other for all the sorrow they 
 had caused by their misunderstandings in the past. 
 Now that they knew, they could appreciate all they 
 had striven to accomplish for each other. Their 
 readiness to acknowledge their mistakes and to rec- 
 tify them, as far as lay in their power, made them 
 a pathetic study to me. 
 
 Moreover I felt I was in a measure responsible 
 for their more fortunate present condition. For had 
 I not been compelled by that severe pain at my heart 
 to stop and rest at their dwelling place, they would 
 never have told me their story ! and in hearing it 
 thcv themselves learned the true condition of their 
 afifairs from each other's point of view; and so 
 hearing became reconciled. Otherwise they would 
 have continued in mutual recrimination. In fact 
 I feel very much elated and quite plume myself on 
 being a peacemaker. I have received my compensa- 
 tion, for these old people make so much of me I am 
 
Dreams. 107 
 
 in danger of being spoiled. Besides it is very enter- 
 taining to hear them converse on those ever bright- 
 ening days of the past ; instructive too, I find it, to 
 hear the world in all its active life discussed and re- 
 ceive other opinions than my own, for I have led 
 a very lonely life and I am beginning to fear I have 
 been rather severe with my foster child, Felicia. 
 Not but that I love the girl, but I have ever kept her 
 youth in view and considered her opinions of little 
 worth. I suspect 1 had a lesson to learn also in this 
 apparently accidental meeting. 
 
 It is truly delightful to see the way in which this 
 erstwhile quarrelsome couple agree. Felicia is such 
 a favorite with them that they would have her with 
 them alway. The girl herself loves to listen to their 
 old-time stories. Yes, and I have noticed that she 
 is also deeply interested when they are telling some 
 of the present day, in which their grandson, Reuben, 
 figures largely. Well, life is young with her and 
 this is natural hero worship. I think though, I can 
 see in this a coming change. When this young man 
 arrives, if he be one-half the man his grandsire pic- 
 tures him, my girl will love him. Coming he will 
 be soon, for only this morning they told me they 
 liad received word from him to that effect. 
 
 When he comes and sees my lovely maid, then I 
 know that he will love her. No man could look 
 upon her pure, sweet face and fail to admire her ; 
 watch her charming way and fail to love her. Then 
 I know I must give place to that younger, stronger 
 love that will come into my darling's life. 
 
io8 Dreams. 
 
 A pang of selfish jealousy strikes my heart at the 
 thought of parting with my child. Yes, my child, 
 for that she has grown to be to me. How she 
 brightens all my days with her winsome presence. 
 Fie ! For shame ! 1 must not let a whim of mine 
 bar the way to my girl's happiness. I am getting 
 old and it were well for me if I could see Felicia 
 happily married ; then I would visit this lovely gar- 
 den that I have heard so much of. 
 
 If it please the All-wise I shall willingly go 
 hence. The sands in life's hour-glass are running 
 low, and there is little left that I can do. I must be 
 growing weak in some respects also, for now I find 
 that I no longer feel as bitterly as I did toward the 
 people of that strange city. Growing old and the 
 time of my departure near at hand, I must not talk 
 longer in this manner for it grieves my child when 
 I so much as mention that I may go hence ere long. 
 

CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 As I foresaw, the inevitable has happened. My 
 FeUcia's heart is no longer in my keeping. It es- 
 caped one lovely day in spite of all my guarding 
 care, and has bee-n caught by a stalwart, dark-eyed 
 specimen of humanity. What is worse, or should be 
 worse, to me were it not that such a strange apathy 
 has come upon my mind, he is one from out that city 
 of my sorrow — the Mecca of my contempt ! Yet 
 tiuthfully speaking, no one could feel contempt for 
 this magnificent one from among the sons of men. 
 I, even I, am constrained to believe that there may 
 be good and true persons dwelling within the city's 
 walls. I believe, nay, I must be honest ; I know 
 there are good and true persons within the city 
 since this man came thence. 
 
 It happened in this wise : Felicia who is never so 
 happy as when preparing some tempting dainty for 
 our aged friends, had been busying herself all the 
 morning concocting some particularly delicate mor- 
 sel to tempt the appetite. They had not appeared 
 as well as usual of late ; not that they were ill, but 
 were visibly growing more feeble, reminding one 
 oj" the fading leaves upon the trees in autunui weath- 
 er — just so softly, sweetly fading from our sight. 
 And as these same leaves take on new beauties as 
 they gently fade away, so day by day were revealed 
 to us new beauties in our friends. How tender 
 and kind the one to the other. How he supported 
 
112 Dreams. 
 
 her fragile form when they took their Httle walks. 
 How staunch and brave he tried to appear, although 
 li was evident he did most sorely need the assistance 
 of his stout stafif. How she tried to tell him every 
 little thing she thought would interest him ; of the 
 blossoming apple tree, where the birds had built 
 their nest, the ones they remembered so well. It 
 must be the same birds for they had returned now 
 for several seasons and brought their family with 
 them it would seem. 
 
 In this manner they tried to win each other from 
 the thoughts of the increasing infirmities of old age. 
 Of late, even these little excursions had been too 
 much for them to undertake, and they patiently and 
 cheerfully resigned themselves to the circumstances. 
 " Oh," they would say, " Oh, yes, we would like to 
 go but the easy chair in the sunshine is so very cozy ; 
 we can see a bit of the lake from here and the cattle 
 feeding in the green meadows. Did you notice how 
 red the roses are around the porch and how sweet 
 their fragrance? It is very pleasant here we think." 
 In this way they would strive to beguile the mo- 
 ments. 
 
 Well, as I said, Felicia had been busy preparing 
 for them an unexpected dainty. Going into their 
 home with a delicate rose flushing her cheeks, with 
 blue eyes sparkling, and little rings of sunny brown 
 hair clustering around her fair brow, her cherry lips 
 parted just showing the bits of white teeth as the 
 dimples played hide and seek around the corners of 
 her mouth in a smile of anticipated pleasure at the 
 
Dreams. 1 1 3 
 
 thought of the surprise in store for her good friends. 
 Surprise! The surprise was rather for herself; 
 for on entering the cottage, who should she find but 
 the much-loved, long-expected grandson. I am in- 
 clined to think it was rather a surprise to that same 
 gentleman. It does not very frequently befall one 
 to meet so tempting a bit of womanhood as my 
 sweet Felicia. Any way the mischief was done 
 when the brown and blue eyes met. The love mak- 
 ing was happy and prosperous. It was truly inter- 
 esting to watch the aged grandparents' pleasure in 
 its prospering. Now the children have been to me 
 and asked my blessing on their wooing, also urging 
 my consent to a speedy union. Shall I give it? 
 Yes, I must. I have urged every obstacle that was 
 possible to my mind, and really there is no obsta- 
 cle. The young man's character is beyond reproach ; 
 genial, and generous. There can be no objection to 
 the union excepting my unconquerable dislike, to 
 speak so meek a word, for the people of the city 
 whence he came and of which he is a citizen. 
 
 I will no longer hesitate. I will consent to their 
 happiness. Reuben says he must away to the city 
 on urgent business ; and while there is anxious to 
 prepare a home for the coming of his bride — his 
 dear little wife, to be. 
 
 They come before me now: shall I refuse? Nay, 
 I have given my blessing, or did I receive one? Now^ 
 I hear happy voices as they discuss their hopes and 
 plans on this last evening, for on the morrow Reu- 
 ben will return to the citv. 
 
114 Dreams. 
 
 I am drowsy and my eyelids heavy, I will sleep a 
 little, while they build their future castle. 
 
 How now ! I hear the voice, it says : " What 
 hatest thou? What hatest thou?" 
 
 Again as of old I reply, not thee, dear friend, not 
 thee; nor bird, nor beast, nor child, nor aged cou- 
 ple, nor yet this young man who now doth tarry 
 here. I hate the people of the" 
 
 Then said the voice: "What hatest thou? all 
 these are from within the city. Soon, if I mistake 
 not, thou thyself wilt sojourn within the city. 
 What hatest thou? " I cannot answer for it is so; 
 if my Felicia abides within the city, there too must 
 I abide. I may not separate myself from her. So 
 I say: " Dear friend, do not mock my sore distress. 
 I cannot answer thee." Soft came the voice, " I 
 will not mock, but it doth seem that thou dost love 
 all who come from within the city." 
 
 " What hatest thou? " I try to say, the people, the 
 people of the city; but I have grown so weak of 
 mind that I fear I do not hate with the same lusty 
 vigor of my youth the people of the city. 
 
 To-morrow I will make preparation to proceed on 
 my journey to that most beautiful garden. I will 
 leave Felicia in the care of our aged friends who 
 will be lonely after their grandson has departed. 
 She will be happy in hearing continually the praises 
 of her choice. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 It is all arranged. To-morrow I commence my 
 journey to that famous garden. It is not so far 
 away, I learn, as I anticipated. The guide assures 
 me that if I meet with no misliap I will probably 
 reach my destination the following night. 
 
 This guide is a person of most somber appear- 
 ance to many ; in fact he impressed me at first as 
 having a most forbidding look, yet on closer ac- 
 quaintance I find he is exceedingly agreeable, and 
 possesses an immense iund of information which he 
 is perfectly willing to impart to any one capable of 
 appreciating its extraordinary interest. 
 
 There is nothing to be dreaded about the journey 
 he assures me. Even the crossing of an apparently 
 very dark, swift stream, about which so many dis- 
 mal stories have been told ; even crossing of this 
 river, he tells me, is particularly pleasant, if people 
 will not permit themselves to be disturbed by the 
 stories they have heard. 
 
 The scenery is both interesting and beautiful ; al- 
 so in some parts so sublime as to inspire with awe 
 the beholder. N^evertheless the stream leads grad- 
 ually and tranquilly to a beautiful and peaceful coun- 
 try, wherein, like a precious jewel, in golden setting, 
 lies this lovely garden. 
 
 I will not be able to tell you more until I have 
 visited this famous spot ; when if it be possible, I 
 will send you word by letter or a messenger. And 
 
ii6 Dreams. 
 
 when I have regained my strength sufficiently you 
 shall learn of its beauties by word of mouth. 
 
 I fear that 1 have promised more than I will 
 ever be able to fulfil. I found all the guide had 
 told me concerning the journey was true, and it was 
 very enjoyable. True, I was terrified when we 
 reached the narrow channel between the high moun- 
 tains where the huge boulders and threatening rocks 
 almost met above our defenceless heads. For a lit- 
 tle, I anticipated being crushed by them or dashed 
 to pieces in their jagged jaws by the raging torrent 
 1 heard near by, and expected to enter very soon. I 
 could hear it roaring, hissing, swelling, louder and 
 loud'er every moment. Terrible it must be ! Is there 
 no escape? My breath comes slowly. Yes, almost 
 ceases. My eyes are dim. I can hear nothing but 
 that terrible, terrible roaring. The wind is cold. 
 I shiver. I chill. My heart beats heavily ; stops. 
 Am I then deceived? Has the guide played me 
 false and lured me to destruction? Why did I not 
 listen to others wiser than myself? I look at him. 
 He is smiling benignly, and says, kindly : '' Fear 
 no evil, I am with thee." 
 
 How his appearance has changed. A radiant 
 face ! A form divine ! Why, we have passed the 
 rocks; how beautiful they are! Every jagged pinna- 
 cle, as the light of the setting sun falls upon it, 
 reflects a glow like rosy flame in answer to his glori- 
 ous glow. Am I dreaming? I must be, when I 
 think the dark-browed guide so gracious, and all 
 those ragged rocks such pinnacles of flame. 
 
Dreams. 117 
 
 A little while my eyes were dim with age, and 
 then with fear i rub them. They are not dim, they 
 are clear. A ever in all my life have I seen so well; 
 nay, I have been blind always — and that terrible 
 torrent ; 1 laugh aloud, it is but a babbling brook, 
 smging as it falls over many beauteous boulders, 
 some white, others curiously shaded, cast tints of 
 many lovely colors where the waters throw, as if in 
 mirthful play, their foamy spray among them. 
 
 Here where the boats enter, it is perfectly tranquil 
 and oh, so clear ! and the boulders form stepping- 
 stones to the shore. 
 
 Soft and sw^eet the air ; I drink it in ; every fiber 
 of my being tingles. I bathe in it; yes, I live in it. 
 How spicy sweet ; frankincense and myrrh, red 
 roses and violets ; a thousand odors all combined. 
 How strong it makes me feel. How young; and 
 best of all, how well. H the breath from out that 
 garden be so sweet, what must the garden be? Yet 
 I am in no haste to go ; a languorous pleasure is 
 upon me ; I fain would linger here at the entrance, 
 but I cannot. A voice says: " Come;" I must obey. 
 The guide places my hand in another's and is gone. 
 I heard him say, " I must hasten to those who 
 await." The new guide smiles on me encouragingly, 
 says gently, " Come within the gates, it is eventide 
 and thou must rest." 
 
 Unquestioningly as a little child I go. There is 
 something in his presence that insoires confidence 
 and refuses to be questioned. Oh, what sweet music 
 
ii8 Dreams. 
 
 I hear, and singing. The guide places nie under a 
 flowering tree and hids me rest. 
 
 How long 1 was there I cannot say, but I slept 
 until I was awakened by the singing of a bird. Such 
 a bird ; ah, what a song ! Mounting higher, higher, 
 clearer, clearer, until all around was music's notes 
 like sparkling diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and 
 pearls. Presently I perceive it is night, though dif- 
 fering from all the nights I ever knew. There is a 
 softened light on everything; so tranquil, so rest- 
 ful. As the song of the lark dies away — it must 
 be a lark — however, as the song dies away, I be- 
 come aware that the waters in the porphyry and 
 gold fountain, are musical and opalescent. Oh, the 
 sweetness of the music, faintly audible, like some 
 sweet song, sung far away. And oh, the beauties of 
 that water; all the hues of the diamond subdued to 
 the tenderness of the opal ! Now I become aware 
 that I am not alone, I hear voices. I will be cpiiet, 
 perhaps I may learn something concerning this 
 strange country to whch I have come. 
 
 The voices are nearer. What ! is it possible ? It 
 is the tall, white lily near my resting place that is 
 speaking. Curious things are constantly happen- 
 ing, such as render me doubtful of mine own self. 
 What does the lily say? Is it possible to speak 
 disparagingly of another in this place of quiet re- 
 pose? And that too of the radiant rose? Says the 
 lily : "' That rose is too red ; it flaunts its gaudy 
 color in my face and makes itself vulgarly conspic- 
 uous. While of its cousins — the A^ellow has gained 
 
Dreams. 119 
 
 its tawny hue from envy ; and the white, from shame 
 that it dared rival me." 
 
 The rose was angry and said, " Not so ! It is thou 
 that hath grown pale with shame that thou shouldst 
 aspire to be queen of all the flowers." 
 
 At this there was an uproar. A beautiful vine 
 full of long clusters of purple flowers, complained 
 bitterly of the oak tree to which it Avas clinging, 
 saying that it was ruining iti graceful form by lift- 
 ing it so high in the air. The oak was incensed and 
 said he had not called her hither ; and she hampered 
 the growth of his sturdy limbs by ever clinging to 
 them. The larger flowers, one and all, despised the 
 more timid ones, the lilies of the valley, violets, and 
 daisies — such common things. As for the shrubs, 
 noted for their graceful foliage they said: "Foli- 
 age ! Foliage ! What was that ? A few green leaves, 
 at best tinted ones. They ought to be exterminated 
 for being so presumptuous." And the magnolia 
 tree — what ungainly blossoms it possessed ; peer- 
 less and proud was it, of what they would like to 
 know? All the flowers that grew in the garden 
 loathed the lovely aquatics. Were they not horrid 
 things, belonging neither to earth, air, nor water. 
 These said of those that grew upon the land, that 
 they were filthy plants and never had a bath except 
 occasionally from dew or rain. 
 
 More especially I noticed one plant that grew by 
 itself. It was not particularly beautiful nor yet 
 homely, but to me. of most disagreeable manner ; for 
 it folded its leaves around it very haughtily. I 
 
i-o Dreams. 
 
 thought it appeared to be trying to escape. It said 
 that It hated them all and deemed there was no evil 
 in itself, no good in any other. It was hindered 
 when it desired to escape and I heard a voice which 
 said to it : 
 
 "What hatest thou?" and it answered: "The 
 flowers, the flowers within the garden, and I do 
 well to hate." 
 
 I was Idled with wrath and cried : " Misguided 
 one, dost thou not see they are all thy kindred ? " 
 For now I did perceive that although they dift'ered 
 one from the other, the same gardener and master 
 cared for them all. I was grieved for his loving 
 care ; that it should be so repaid ; besides I was 
 troubled regarding the flowers themselves, for I saw 
 ihey were all lovely, differing only in kind ; but since 
 they had commenced to upbraid one another their 
 leaves were withered ; their blossoms hung droop- 
 ing, and soon all would be ruined if some remedy 
 were not speedily applied. 
 
 As for the one that was trying to escape, there 
 was a black blight eating at its very heart ; and 
 when again the voice said, "What hatest thou?" 
 and blinded by arrogance it answered : " The flow- 
 ers, the flowers within the garden." 
 
 I cried : " Unseemly one," and would have crushed 
 its verv life, but was withheld, and a voice said, 
 " Wait." I waited, I fear, wit^i impatience. I saw 
 presentlv there grew beside that plant other weaker 
 than itself; unwillingly enouq-h, at first, it sheltered 
 it. The canker spot upon itself grew smaller. Then 
 
Dreams. 121 
 
 another of the weaker ones came, and it helped that 
 also. Presently there were many ; and it loved them 
 all, yet for very pride imagined it hated. The can- 
 ker, although very small, remained ; and still the 
 voice asked: "What hatest thou?" The plant 
 though doubtful said : " The flowers within the gar- 
 den." Yet it was growdng stronger; and presently 
 vvhen asked: " What hatest thou? " said, " Nay, I 
 hate not but I love the flowers within the garden. 
 Are they not oif mine own father's house? " I heard 
 a chime as of bells. All the flowers were laughing to- 
 gether. The lily said to the rose : " Come thou more 
 near and cast thy glowing splendor on my pallor." 
 To the yellow rose, " Where didst thou gain thy 
 golden tint? Didst catch a sunbeam straying to 
 weave thy garment from?" The red rose kissed 
 the lily for love, vVhereat it flushed to tender pink. 
 The yellow rose said : " Nay, nay, the lily for fair- 
 ness, so I needs must choose another color." The 
 oak said to the vine, " Come thou up higher! " How 
 ungainly should I appear without thy charming blos- 
 soms ? " 
 
 " Not so." the vine replied. " What would I do 
 were it not for thy sturdy arms that lift me from 
 the earth, where all my blossoms might be crushed 
 by the careless passer-by. It is thou that art brave 
 and strong," and it whispered, " I love thee." 
 
 All the land plants praised those that grew in the 
 streams and floated upon the water. How nure and 
 sweet they were. They, of the others said, that they 
 were patient and persevering, waiting and thankful 
 
122 Dreams. 
 
 for rain and dew. As for the violet — all true lovers 
 knew its worth. Mignonette, if not so beautiful, of 
 what modest worth. Pansies were for heart's ease 
 and pleasant thoughts. Who could forget the blue 
 forget-me-not? the daisies with their many tiny 
 petals, and the one that blushed when God's finger 
 touched its humble blossoms. All the flowers were 
 happy ; conspicuously so, the glorious magnolia ; 
 regarding the leaves, no flower could consider itself 
 as advantageously displayed without its verdant set- 
 ting. 
 
 I was happy too ; more especially, because that 
 most miserable one that had expected to escape, had 
 returned and loved and was beloved by all within 
 the garden. 
 
 Then came the voice I knew of old, and said to 
 me, "What hatest thou?" I said, "Trouble me 
 not ; the people in the city." At that I thought the 
 flowers laughed louder than ever ; and I fell asleep 
 and dreamed of the city and the people therein. One 
 went with me and showed me all their hopes and 
 fears, their sorrows and their joys, temptations and 
 resistances, weakness and strength, cradles and 
 graves. All, all ! I pitied them ! 
 
 The voice said, " Look ! " and lo ! they were my 
 father and my mother, my brother, sister, husband, 
 and child ; my neighbors and friends. I loved, I 
 loved them. Then the voice said, " What hatest 
 thou?" I said not thee dear friend, not thee; nor 
 1)ird, nor beast, nor living thing ; and least of all, 
 the people. I love, I love tlie people of the city. 
 
Dreams. 123 
 
 Let me go hence quickly that I may help them. I 
 long to be there." 
 
 The bird is singing again ; I am awake ! it is 
 morning and such a morning ; so clear and pure. 
 What a white light, so brilliant, yet soft it does not 
 pain nor hurt with all its brilliancy but rather 
 strengthens my sight and adds new beauties to all 
 the surroundings. 
 
 The flowers — how meek they look, who would 
 suspect that stately lily and radiant rose of playing 
 such pranks as they did last night ! Now I see a 
 person walking in the garden. It must be the mas- 
 ter ; I will apologize for my intrusion. It was late 
 when I arrived or I would have sought his permis- 
 sion to enter. He is here! How majestic! How 
 gracious ! He speaks : " Child, whence earnest 
 thou ? " I am abashed ; and yet how kindly he looks 
 at me. Why do I hesitate? I will no longer. I 
 tell him how it was I had desired so long to enter 
 this lovely place, and of all my hindrances. I tell 
 him of the sad disappointment of my youth, and 
 how I left the city, hating and scorning everything 
 therein, even from the least to the greatest ; of my 
 ambition to return and wreak bitter vengeance on 
 one and all ; whereat I thought he did indeed look 
 at me very gravely and I felt reproached and would 
 have excused myself. Yea, rather than meet the 
 sorrow of that look I wished myself back in the 
 terror of the rocks with jagged jaws — yea, even 
 back to that bitter time when I bid farewell to the 
 city. 
 
124 Dreams. 
 
 I said, " I see I have intruded ; let me go whence 
 I came." The master said : " Xot yet, my child, not 
 yet. Thou hast told me what thou didst hate ; what 
 lovest thou ? " Then I told him of the poor forsaken 
 beasts I met with outside the city walls ; how cruelty 
 changed to pity, of the bird which the archer shot — 
 the trees, the flowers — I loved them all. Also the 
 child I found deserted ; my hate and scorn had 
 changed to tenderost love, she was even as my own. 
 
 I spoke of the aged couple who now dwelt in 
 harmony and peace. Last but not least, of the young 
 man who came from within tlie city. I loved them, 
 every one ; and preferred their happiness to my own. 
 Then I told him how long I had desired to visit the 
 garden ; of my fear of the guide, my terror of the 
 rocks in the narrow pass before entering the gar- 
 den ; how very beautiful I found those same rocks 
 when once they were passed. Then I spoke of my 
 rest in the garden, and the dream regarding the 
 flowers, that it distressed me that they should treat 
 each other in that manner ; and how especially in- 
 dignant I felt at the one whidh esteemed itself as 
 being so very superior to the otliers, and withdrew 
 from among them. Whereat I thought the master 
 smiled. Then I hesitate-d, but he said : " Soeak on." 
 So I told him of the hindrances that befell the sel- 
 fish one, and how glad I was when it was brought 
 back to the others and the great reconciliation took 
 place. 
 
 I said, " Sir, I do not know why I speak so con- 
 fidingly to you, but I must tell you of a strange 
 
Dreams. 125 
 
 voice that has ever pursued me with the question, 
 " What hatest thou ? ' Ever until last night I have 
 been able to say. The people ; the people of the city 
 I had left, but after the dream of the flowers, I had 
 a vision of the city and the people. In some way 
 I was able to enter into their individual lives, and 
 I now pitied and loved them ; more particularly one 
 whom at first I had disliked because of her self- 
 righteous condition. I am sorry now for I had 
 learned that she dwelt alone with naught but deso- 
 lation and despair for her companions. I wanted to 
 bring her back also to her friends." 
 
 Hearing this the master smiled again ; and I per- 
 ceived that smile had a power over my spirit. It il- 
 luminated the dark places therein, and I knew that 
 I. even I. was the wayward flower — the selfish and 
 self-righteous person. 
 
 Abashed I cried, " Let me return. I pray thee let 
 me return to the city, the city that I left ! " Soft 
 came the voice I knew so well : " What hatest thou? 
 What hatest thou?" Then I cried more strongly 
 yet, '' I hate not, I love all ! And more than all other, 
 the people of that city that I left. I pray you let 
 me return to those i. love." Gently the master said : 
 
 " Thou shalt return Thou hast a wise and pa- 
 tient teacher. It was well he brought thee hither, I 
 have somewhat to show thee before thou goest back 
 to whence thou camest." Then he led me to one of 
 the statues, w'hich I had observed at some distance 
 among the trees. To one apart from the others he 
 led me and bade me look. I was astonished ; for 
 
126 Dreams. 
 
 though perfect in all its parts, one side of that statue 
 was dark and discolored, although I saw there was 
 a misty whiteness that appeared to be gradually en- 
 croaching upon the blackness. The other side was 
 white and pure, and it was lovely beyond descrip- 
 tion. There was a drapery as of stars that enhanced 
 its loveliness. 
 
 The master said, " Behold thy life. The stars are 
 the good works thou hast done ;" and I said, Mas- 
 ter, " When did I a good work? I am that selfish 
 one." And he answered me : " Even when thou 
 didst think to hate the helpless, thou hast soothed. 
 Also the life thou didst save and teach — thy foster 
 child — Felicia. The peace that thou hast made be- 
 tv.een the aged man and woman, thy tender care 
 for their comfort in their feebleness. Thou hast 
 done well ; rejoice with exceeding great joy that 
 thou wast not permitted to leave all in darkness. Re- 
 turn to the city and the people that thou lovest ; 
 and from what thou hast gained benefit thy kindred ; 
 remembering always that all are thy kindred, even 
 as God is the Father of all. Rejoice continually that 
 thou art permitted to be one of the handmaidens in 
 humanity's temple. Thou art favored among many. 
 What lovest thou ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Did I hear a bird singing just now? How is this? 
 Why am I here all alone? The sun is arising in 
 
Dreams. 127 
 
 majesty and power over all the vast waste of waters. 
 See the banners of light he unfurls ! Tender flush- 
 ings of rose, amber, and palest green, melt upon the 
 blue and gray of the sky. These are followed by 
 crimson, purple, and gold; and all are reflected on 
 the face of the waters in myriads of dancing ripples, 
 touched here and there with flecks of foam. The 
 sun is climbing higher and higher, the day is with 
 us. 
 
 A few bathers are commencing to arrive, even at 
 this early hour, while I yet sit here bewildered. Ah, 
 I remember now. There was an entertainment giv- 
 en last evening in honor of a very prominent person 
 lately arrived. 
 
 I, as a guest, had expected a delightful evening. 
 A word I chanced to overhear disturbed my serenity 
 and caused me to distrust a most cherished friend. 
 My pleasant anticipations were gone ; so too, was 
 gone all my faith in human vows and protestations. 
 With disgust and loathing I turned from all who 
 claimed my friendship. If this one were false then 
 none were true except myself. It was strange there 
 could not be found among all my acquaintances one 
 that could be trusted. Strange I should be the only 
 faithful one among so many. I congratulated my- 
 self on my superiority and determined to withdraw 
 as much as possible from the society of mv fonner 
 friends. They might consider themselves abused, 
 but what was that to me? If they had so little sin- 
 cerity in their friendship, what matter if they were 
 aggrieved. Thus musing, I left the place of enter- 
 
128 Dreams. 
 
 taiiiment, and aimlessly strolling, came down by the 
 sea, idly yet bitterly communing with myself. See- 
 ing a light in one of the tents belonging to the famed 
 and most peculiar magicians, who had for a time 
 chosen this retreat for a resting place, I impulsively 
 concluded to visit and consult with them, and learn 
 if there was within their pharmacy, simples such as 
 would cure my malady — if they possessed such a 
 luscious draught as would tend to soothe the throb- 
 bings of a heart betrayed. 
 
 I must confess it was not without misgivings, 
 halting, and turning back, that I sought entrance. 
 The}' were no ordinary persons with whom I desired 
 audience ; moreover there had been such wonderful 
 tales told regarding them, that one would needs be 
 more than mortal not to stand in some awe of the 
 interview. However I was never of a very timid 
 nature, and now for very shame of mine own weak- 
 ness, would enter. Once within I was seized with 
 such confusion that I would have fled precipitately, 
 even after the cordial w-elcome extended by the ever- 
 kind and hospitable Jacol). I would have fled even 
 then, but the luminous eyes of Abdicates were upon 
 me. If there had been any mystery in a pre-existent 
 condition, those eyes could have seen it. If there 
 were any prophetic revelation concerning a future 
 existence, providing there be either a past or fu- 
 ture, I felt no manner of doubt but that he could 
 reveal either one or both if such should be his pleas- 
 ure. What could he do for me wdio desired counsel 
 for the present? 
 
Dreams. 129 
 
 By his side was seated the one called Josephus, a 
 person of most; learned and venerable appearance. 
 I remarked the absence of the white-robed one — 
 sweet Mary; also the addition of a new member to 
 the company ; a man of most magnificent presence 
 and kingly bearing. As I entered, I heard him 
 say, " I, Egypt's son, will plnck from out the mum- 
 mied hand of an ancient rite, the Lotus seed of Im- 
 mortality. I, Pharaoh, am with you, fear not." 
 
 Even yet I would have withdrawn, for I perceived 
 preparations as for a journey ; but they entreated me 
 most kindly and Abdicates said inquiringly, " We 
 were admiring a most wonderful flower brought by 
 our friend Pharaoh. Wouldst thou like to examine 
 it, thou wilt find it worthy of observance. It is 
 called the Lotus of the Nile." 
 
 So saying he gave to me an odorous and won- 
 drous flower; then with his eyes upon my face, said, 
 " Daughter, camest thou to consult with Abdicates, 
 son of Arabia? Hast thou not teachers enough of 
 thine own kindred? Or can it be thou lovest not 
 thine own household of the peoples?" 
 
 His voice was very grave and a sadness dimmed 
 the luster of his eyes. Whether I answered him or 
 not I canno't say ; for looking on that wonderful 
 flower and inhaling its fragrance I forgot every- 
 thing — everybody. 
 
 T have lived a life time; vea, grown old in a few 
 short hours, row T find it but a dream. Not a 
 vestip-e of tents or coun=p1ors rptnpin: pnd T h-^^'e 
 watched the sunrise o'er the fathomless denths of the 
 
130 Dreams. 
 
 sea. A dream, yet I think there was something of a 
 lesson in that dream, if dream it be ! Anyway I will 
 agree with mine adversary quickly. Nay, I will 
 seek my friend. There comes to me an echo from 
 that dream, "What lovest thou?" Farewell. We 
 shall meet again ; until then — Silence. 
 
Mar- 91 1901 
 
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