)a6e/i/o'>'>-^/^^ UNIVERSITY Or, ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGH ILLINOIS HISTORICAL SURVEY /5 y-^oU^^i f 3y. Jud^ ^ ^-^'^-C^. A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST A MEMORIAL TRIBUTE JULIA A, AMES, •' U BbaU be satisfic^ wben IF awal?e in Ubi? Iii?enesB. THE WOMAN'S TEMPERANCE PUBLISH NG ASSOCIATION, THE TEMPLE, CHICAGO. COPYRIGHT, 1892. KBoman's QEsmpiJrancc f'uftigfiing 3gr JOURNALIST. II great as the outreaching of the heart, as great as the contriving of the brain, as great as the faith that fastens the aspiring soul to God, then we are the mightiest mockery that has been let loose to feed on its own anguish. I think "Yolande," as we delighted to call her, was wont to say to herself as that cosmopolitan poet, Victor Hugo, said : "Be like a bird just for an instant lighted Upon a branch that swings ; She feels it yield, yet sings on unaflfrighted. Knowing she hath her wings." She knew she had her wings. She is trying them these days. A schoolmate of earlier years bears this remark- able testimony, to which we who during the last six years of her life knew her so well, at her beloved Rest Cottage home, can heartily subscribe : "She seemed incapable of malice. She never antagonized. I think she was inclined to believe the best possible of everybody, and naturally enough she received everybody's good will in return. I think her girlhood, rightly understood, showed her capable of great and persevering devotion when her interest was once thoroughly aroused. She was peculiar in that her fixed purposes were followed in the under-current of her nature, for her outward man- ner was so gay and bright that only those who knew her best, realized the deep undej-girdings of her power. I have no doubt that what she showed in early life, 12 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST that lovely, genial disposition combined, as so rarely occurs, with persevering devotion to any person or to any cause to which she was attached, made up the warp and woof of the character that came to be so much admired by the white- ribboners." PROFESSOR SUSAN M. D. FRY. VER since the receipt of Miss Wil- lard's letter saying, "Our beloved Julia Ames lias passed to her native climate of heaven," one incident in the school life of Julia has come to me more frequentl}' and more vividly than ^ any other. At dusk one Sabbath evening, on entering my room at Henrietta Hall after an absence of several hours, I heard most piteous sobs in the adjoining room. They were smothered outbursts from a heart that seemed broken to pieces by some mighty sorrow which had suddenly fallen upon it. I said, "Julia has lost her father or mother," and hastened to com- fort her. I found her lying upon her bed, face down- wards, in a state of the most intense excitement and grief. What was my surprise, when I put my arms about her and begged her to tell me what had hap- pened, to hear her reply, " No, no, I will not tell you. You will hate me. I wish I were dead ! I wish I were dead ! " I could not believe that Julia had been guilty of anything unworthy of herself. And, at any 14 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. rate, she must be calmed and helped. After repeated pleadings on my part and assurances of love, no matter how serious the case might be, she yielded, and with a struggle such as a criminal might make to confess a crime, she said, " I am down for an oration in my literary society and I can not write one ; I am a fool, I am a fool ! " It was in vain that I assured her that first efforts were never orations but only essays committed to memorj^ that she would grow to the heights of an oration, in time, and that other students had to make a beginning as she did. No,, she ought to know how to write an oration. It was inexcusable that she did not. She must write an oration, or nothing. How exaggerated her grief seems at this distance. How many times in later years has her face beamed upon me in bright ap- preciation of the ludicrousness of the scene, as we have referred to the tremendous struggle of that occasion. This early incident in Julia's school life at the Illinois Wesleyan University at Bloomington, which began September, 1879, and lasted but two years, gives the key to at least two of her chief characteris- tics. She was determined to do things well — perfectly, if possible ; she was hard toward herself. Becky Sharp (pardon the allusion) claimed the right to mother herself, that she might further her own selfish ends and advance Becky to a good place, where she might eat somebody else's white bread, and wear au undeserved honor or a title ; but Julia was, at best, but a poor step-mother to herself. She would not palliate or excuse her own shortcomings. She was A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 1 5 always read}^ to say, "But I ought to know," and equally ready to say, " I will know." She mastered every subject she undertook, and so far as I know always stood first grade. I have heard her say many times that she would not accept a sec- ond grade ; that if necessary she would study all night to avoid such a calamity ; and that in the event of such a visitation she would leave the school in dis- grace. But she did not study for grades alone. She had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, which her college life increased. Her sister writes me, "All Julia gained at Bloomington made her crave more, so that when she left Bloomington she was simply aflame with the desire to know." She did not aim, or desire, to take a college course. Literature and history, art and aesthetics were her favorite studies. She took all of these laid down in the college curriculum, some of the languages and natural sciences, and left school in June, 1881. The Munsellian literary society, for which she de- sited to write the oration, had become very proud of her for her conscientious work and fine dramatic abil- ity. She was a member of the Kappa Gamma Greek fraternity. Her sisters in these societies watched her career with pride and pleasure, and her memory will long be enshrined in their hearts. She attended the Monday evening prayer-meeting held by the young ladies of the Hall, and constantly let her influence be felt in favor of right living and right doing. She had a quick sense of humor, but an equally strong sense of decorum preserved her dignity under trying cir- l6 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. curastances, and made her a sort of censor to her fol- lowers, who were numerous. She was sensitive to her environments, and easily became en rapport with the highest teachings of phi- losophy and religion. She had observ^ation and spirit- ual vitality. Her soul naturally repelled the low and groveling and went forth freely to seek kinship with the pure and Xoity. As I remember Julia, she was more serious than most girls of her age. Her conscience was not often, if ever, satisfied with her best endeavors. She had, even during her school days, that " divine dissatisfac- tion," as some one has put it, which urged her on, night and day. This was not disclosed by ordinary nervousness, or by that air of heavy business and much work which young people are apt to carry when they feel the first pressure of responsible indi- viduality. Her inward urgings were known only to the observing few, by her thoughtfulness and persist- ent devotion to a subject until she had mastered it ; or to her choicest friends by an occasional outpouring of her aspirations in an hour of quiet conference and confidence. She did not waste her time in idle castle- building. She did not cast a halo of glory about herself, born of her own imaginings, to proclaim her- self as a girl of infinite longings, high aspirations, lofty hopes and awful fears. She did not beat her pretty wings against the homely limitations of this plodding, work-a-day world, and fret her young life into wrinkles and furrows of disappointment — and all through no fault of hers. No, Julia was not visionary, she was not sentimental, the times were not " out of A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 1 7 joint" for her. She was not unhappy. She was simply a calm, self-possessed, serious worker, a striver after the best. She had learned, somehow or other, to estimate somewhat properly the worth of this world. This was before she had learned to know and to love Robert Browning, as she afterward came to know and love him, but she already felt that "a man's reach should exceed his grasp." She seemed to realize that the works of a great soul always bear the marks of imperfection— failure to attain its ideal ; but that this very imperfection implies the possibility of farther progress ; and that • • The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made." Her favorite and often-quoted text was : "As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousuess: I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness." — Psalms xvii: 15. When she first came to the Illinois Wesleyan Uni- versity she had a strong desire to adopt the stage as a profession. This seems contradictory to what I have already said. But her ideal stage was quite different from the real ; and as she realized more and more the impossibility of carrying out the good she planned in that profession, wiser counsel prevailed and she aban- doned all thought of the stage, and decided to devote herself to some line of literary work. Her independence of thought and action was very marked. Having settled a point in her own mind, it was settled. l8 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. Believing a thing to be proper and right, it was done. She did not wish to be helped in her studies or in her recitations. She liked the teacher best who let her recite, or fail, according to what she knew. She wished to become self-supporting as soon as pos- sible. She used her money with as much care and economy as if it were grudgingly bestowed. This was the more remarkable from the fact that her supply was unstinted, and that she was urged to have expensive things which .she refused. She believed her father's generosity unbounded, that she could never repay him for what he had already done for her, and that she ought to show her appreciation of his love and care by economy, and, as soon as possi- ble, by earning her own living. Then, too, she felt that she had a work to do and longed to be about it. After leaving school she often said, "How can girls be satisfied with the round of little nothings to which they give themselves ! " She pitied them and longed to lead them into broader and better work — into something which would widen their s\'mpathies and make them better and more helpful in this world of sin and suffering. I have spoken so much of Julia's thoughtfulness, that one might think her solemn. Not so. She was as bright and cheerful a girl as one would wish to see. She was not variable in moods. Her eyes sparkled at a repartee, and her face flashed into contagious laughter at a witticism. She hated sham and affecta- tion of any kind. I do not remember anything that would more effectually close her lips, or in an extreme case, draw forth an arrow of sarcasm, as vSliam. On A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. I9 the other hand, she was always kind and helpful to the unsophisticated or ignorant. How often her face told me these pleasing stories of herself, as she sat opposite me at the table and as- sisted in serving and entertaining guests that came and went. But how shall I speak of the love and self-sacrifice of which she was capable ? Her inner sanctuary was for the few ; but her sympathy and self-sacrifice were for all. I remember how she devoted herself to a young lady who had the misfortune to slip upon a muddy crossing and break her leg. It was a grave and startling event at the Hall. Julia turned nurse, installed herself in her schoolmate's room, showered the leg with water day and night with some help from others, stood by while the plaster cast was put on, and crowned all, in a few days, by placing Miss S in a rocking-chair and drawing her smoothly along, while another girl supported and carried the broken leg, and thus brought her from her small room in one wing of the house to Julia's large, airy room in the other, and then called me up to admire the achievement. My alarm and disapproval fell, however, before her assertion that the doctor had given his consent. The fact was, the doctor believed Julia's generalship equal to the undertaking, and he often said no broken leg ever got on better, and that it was all owing to the good nursing it had. Julia's studies went right on through all this, though I well remember the wearisome nights when the bones were knitting and none of us could comfort the suffer- ing girl, and the doctor must be called. This young 20 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. lady had not been, so far as I knew, a particular friend of Julia's. But the girl's misfortune called out the cheerful helpfulness which went on developing so beautifully in these after years. I loved her, and I love her with a great and un- dying love : but I can not be true to my life as an educator, can not be true to the hundreds of other students who have filled my classes and my heart, did I not say one thing more. Julia was not kind to her- self in everything. She could not be impressed with the necessit}^ and duty of caring for her health. Against all protests, she did much of her work at night and often went to school without breakfast. She wished it were otherwise, but declared she could not sleep if a lesson were left unlearned. She taxed herself beyond measure and would not be warned by the most solemn protests from those whom she loved and revered. She was careful of others in every par- ticular, of herself in none. Blind to her own physical limitations, ill in bed at the Hall, she would have no physician. A friend lately reminded her of having called a physician against her protest, at the time alluded to. "Yes," was the playful reply, "and I have n't forgiv^en you for it yet." These habits, in- dulged in at school, went with her through her short life ; and it ma^^ be that this girl, tenderly loved and prized by so many who would gladly have res- cued her from peril — it is possible that she was the victim of neglect, and that her own. She was just coming into the prime of life, of highest and best womanhood, when she ceased from her labors. She had laid well the foundation in all things save one. A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 21 We who watched and loved her can only wish that she had cared more for her health, and perhaps — per- haps — she might have wrought a much greater work, who knows ? Emulate, if you will, her desire to know. Emu- late her love of the good, the true, and the beautiful. Emulate her devotion to God and humanity, her will power, her energy, her executive ability, her winsome- ness, her suavity. Emulate her virtues as a loving daughter, a devoted sister, a consecrated friend ; but do not forget, as she did, to care for the casket which holds the jewel. " Know 3^e not that your bodj' is the temple of the Holy Ghost ? ' ' Julia was very fond of the fine arts. The first year she was in school, she saved money to send to Europe for views of scenery and masterpieces of art. She had the most intense longing to know about them, to see them for herself, and to be able to read their lan- guage. She cherished the thought that we would see Europe together, some day. I shall not soon for- get the beautiful Sabbath we spent together no; long before she sailed for the Old World, in 1890. She had come to urge me to accompany her, and I talked so hopefully of the possibility of mj^ going that she was radiant all day long. We recalled so many happy things of the school-days and the girls, talked so much of present work, and of the bright future, that the hours slid by on a shining track. It was a satisfying day of full, free, and uninterrupted com- muning. At last, we had told all, had read each other through and through again, and were satisfied and happ3'. Nev^er before had she bade me good-bj'^e 22 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. without a sorrowful face, but she was so hopeful now of the future — and yet this was my last day with Julia. Only once more did I see her, when I bade her good- bye for her trip abroad, without knowing that those kisses would serve for the long, long farewell, as she journeyed to that land from which no traveler returns. The sympathetic Charles Dickens said, "It is to the little familiar things suggestive of the voice, look, manner, never, never more to be encountered on this earth, that the mind first turns in a bereavement." I recall Julia now at Commencement, the first after she had left school. The sunny face and brown eyes beamed upon me from under a broad-brimnied leg- horn hat — the roses of which were not redder than her cheeks during all the exercises ; and I was sur- prised and almost startled, when, upon greeting her at the close, the tears rained down her cheeks, and she clutig to me with passionate eagerness as if she had just found a long lost lover. Never have I known any other with such intense devotion to a friend — such hunger as haunted her soul for those whom she loved ! How often she used to appear in my room after tea, archly saying, "I am so hungry to see you. Don't you want me to read to you?" She dearly loved poetry, travel, fiction. She enjoyed reading aloud and interchanging thoughts, especially about the interpretation of a poem, the poet's moods, his limitations, his beliefs or teachings. She was so frank and open-hearted, so transparent, that I seem to haw had her with me ages rather than for two short years. Even at that time in her life she was the ex- emplification of Emerson's philosophy in regard to A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNAl,IST. 23 friendship. She had the element of truth and the element of tenderness, and might have said with him , ' ' Let the soul be assured that somewhere in the universe it should rejoin its friend, and it would be content and cheerful alone for a thousand years." In my last letter from her, dated June 26, 1 891,— our correspondence was always irregular and at long in- tervals — she says: "One blessed thing about our friendship is, it is not in the least affected by time, 'or absence, or silence. I am sure I have my place in your heart, whatever may betide, and you have a large corner in mine." Her society was to me, and I am sure it was such to others, "poetic, pure, uni- versal, and great as nature itself." And now, in the radiance of the past, she seems shrouded in a bright halo, undimmed by spot or blemish. I^ome Hifc at l^t^i (lltJttage. HELEN L. HOOD, HAT is the secret of your life?" asked Mrs. Browning of Charles Kingsley ; ' ' tell me, that I may make mine beautiful, too." replied, " I had a friend." What a wondrous sentence and what a world of love and tenderness it covers. To me, writing from dear Rest Cottage, the home of my beloved leader. Miss Willard, hallowed by a thousand memories of the past, full of so many tender a.ssocia- tions, these words, "I had a friend," are infinitely precious, for they express all of the love, trust and confidence which was between Yolande and myself, and which for six years was ours to enjoy without interruption, I first became acquainted with her in the summer of 1885 at our Lake Bluff (Illinois) Training School — but our real acquaintance did not begin until the National Woman's Christian Temperance Union Con- vention which was held a few months later at Phila- delphia. On our way to the Convention, she was made a delegate by our Illinois white-ribboners, for A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 25 we all desired to honor such a noble, beautiful woman. Miss Ames was ill en route, and it was my great privilege to be the one to take care of her and arrange for her comfort. The Convention was a great revela- tion to her, and she enjoyed with enthusiasm all the meetings ; the experience there gained, fixed, in a great measure, her longing to be a worker in the cause of humanity. On our way home, we talked long and earnestl}' about her future, I urging her all the while to come and cast in her lot with us " white- rib- boners. ' ' A very pleasing little incident occurred dur- ing this homeward ride. Mrs. Matilda B. Carse was in our car, reading the novel " Yolande," by William Black. Seeing a resemblance in the character of the heroine of this book to Miss Ames, she called her to her side and requesting her to kneel, put her hand on her head, and kissing her lovingly on the forehead, said: "Arise! I dub thee, Yolande " — a name by which she was known afterwards by all her associates. On her return, Yolande became actively engaged in the work of the Chicago Central Union, one of the oldest and most influential in the cit}\ She in- stituted the work of preparing for the papers of that city weekly items of temperance news, and was made the Press Superintendent for the Union. I went with her to some of our city editors the first time she asked for entrance to their columns. From most of them she received a pleasant welcome, but one gentleman declared that temperance news was a stale article and not wanted. I remember the indignation with which we received this communication, and I remember also that we both lived to see the day when this same 26 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURXAIJST. editor congratulated Miss Ames on the success she had made of her Press work. She became very much interested in the Be'ch- esda Mission, which was conducted by the Chicago Union, and situated on Clark street, one of the worst streets of the city. Here every Sunday, no matter what the weather was. Miss Ames could be found teaching in the Sunday-school. We would usually meet at some appointed place beforehand, and go down together to the school, and talk on our way of Him who came to save such as these were. The picture comes to me now, of that fair, sweet face, in the midst of her little group of dirty-faced, ragged and unkempt children, having upon it the seal of the Master's approval because she was doing His work. This mission, as well as the one for homeless, friend- less women, which the Union cares for, had an active worker in Miss Ames. The mission for women was named by her "The Anchorage," and for a long time she kept a white lily in the windows of its read- ing-room, so that the outcast women who passed its windows might see this pure flower, and, being at- tracted, might come in and learn of a better life. In the spring of 1886, Miss Ames' family moved from Chicago, her well beloved brother, Blmer, having finished his law school, and gone west, and then she came to live with us at Rest Cottage. It was now her active life began, and as each burden of a new re- sponsibility came to her, she rose to meet it with a cheerful spirit which helped greatly to overcome what difficulties there might be hidden in it. It was in the home life that Yolande was the most charming. To A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 27 a sweet, lovable disposition was added a graciousness of manner and cordiality that made all love her. She had rich mental gifts which made her a most charm- ing entertainer. Her cultivated voice and trained elocutionary powers were often called into requisition by her enthusiastic audience of home folks at Rest Cottage, or at the simple festivals when neighbors gathered in its parlors ; then she would recite James Whitcomb Riley's, "The gobble-uns '11 git you, ef you don't watch eout," with that inimitable expression of a scared child ; or Josiah Allen's " Fourth of July at Jonesville, " or my favorite, "Aux des Italiens," by Owen Meredith. None who have been present at these merry doings will ever forget the radiant face of my beloved friend, the eyes bright with excitement, the tremulous lips full of expres- sion, the dainty pink color in the classical face, — one moment the features lit up with laughter, the next bedimmed with tears, and her audience everj^ one reflecting in their faces her own. Miss Willard and dear Madame Willard especially delighted in these little merrj'-makings, and Yolande was never tired of pleasing these whom she loved. But it was in our own little study, which we had named "Sans-Souci," that the greatest heart com- fort was taken by us. Here we had fitted up a room with dainty hangings, bric-a-brac, pictures and pretty souvenirs of friends and travels scattered around, and in this room were spent some of our hap- piest hours. She, with noble face, sitting in her favorite chair — a gift of mine to her, — and I in my easy-chair, which had been given me by our white- 28 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. ribboners at the Chicago National W. C. T. U. Convention, the table loaded with books, maga- zines and papers, the lamp shedding a soft, clear glow around; and there after the day's work was done we would sit and talk of our plans for the future, incidents of the day, or of spiritual things, and come nearer one to another in those confidences of heart to heart. Or, when our work was still undone by the ending of the day, and we sat at our separate desks writing, there was still that feeling of satisfaction and content because we were not far apart. Oftentimes friends would drop in, and then our little five o'clock tea-kettle was lit, and soon we were enjoying a cup of delicious tea, made more fragrant because of the dear hands that had prepared it; and so we would sit, a group of us— Esther Pugh, Mrs. Buell, Kate Jack- son, Alice Briggs, Irene Fockler, Anna Gordon, noble white-ribboners, and other friends — with our beloved chieftain, Miss Willard, in the midst, and pass a pleasant hour. Ah, me, those days and hours are gone, never to return again, and I, sitting now alone in the desolate room, with ray heart filled with the memories of those blessed times, realize in all my sorrow and loneliness the brighter and happier times she now is having, my friend translated. Yolande was a passionate lover of books, and was an eager student of them all her life. Possessing keen analytical powers, she could select the best and choicest portions, as she read, jotting down in note- book the sentences that pleased her most. Shake- spere was her favorite author, and she would never A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 29 tire of repeating over special passages which had cer- tain charms of expression in them. She would take several parts in some one favorite pla}-, and portray them in a most realistic manner. Burns and Scott were both treasured bards, v/hile the Brownings, hus- band and wife, she never tired of reading. In the earlier years of our friendship I was impressed with the decided journalistic talent which Yolande dis- played, and some of the writings of those years show the careful reading and study which had been given in the topics treated. Macaulay's Essays, The Re- public of Plato, Duties of Women, Drummond's Natural Law in the Spiritual World, The English Language, Les Miserables, Carlyle's History of the French Revolution, How to Win, Savonarola and kindred books, show by their worn appearance how well they were read. She was a great admirer of Longfellow, Whittier and Bryant and our own Mary Lowe Dickinson ; indeed, poetry was perhaps more loved by her than prose, for she enjoyed with her whole rich nature the music of the poets, espe- cially when it touched upon the deep things of life ; yet she had a keen sense of the humorous, and fully appreciated James Whitcomb Riley and other dialect writers. Her spiritual books were many in number. I have her well-worn copies of The Diary of an Old Soul, scored and marked, The Faith that Makes Faithful, The Imitation of Christ, As It Is in Heaven, Little Pilgrim, Edelweiss, Miss Haver- gal's Poems, Phillips Brooks' Sermons, The Higher Life, and many others of like character. The spiritual part of my friend's nature was one of 30 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. great sweetness and richness, but one that while on earth was never satisfied. Her Bible was lined and interlined with thoughts which she had jotted down on favorite passages, and the heaviest scored ones are those which speak of the heavenly visions. She was one of the beloved of the Master, not wholly satisfied until she had heard Him speaking to her. One of her favorite pastimes was to read aloud, and to me it was a perfect delight to sit still and watch the varying changes on her face and hear her rich, melodious voice, reading some article or book. Or we would have a discussion on some portion of the subject read, and thus try to give to one another the different impressions made upon our minds, and keej) ourselves in accord with all the work of the times. Yolande had always loved and honored, in a high degree, the great leader of the white-ribbon forces, Miss Frances E. Willard, so that when she came to live with us, another loyal, true and devoted admirer of our beloved President was added to our circle. Miss Willard had a wonderful influence over her life, a strong bond of love, appreciation and understanding being between them. Of the many memories of our home life that go trooping through my mind, none are so sweet as the remembrance of how these two, the elder and the younger comrade, would sit together in the "Den," a room which Yolande had helped to beautify. Miss Willard sitting in her favorite rocking-chair, her friend opposite, with papers and books scattered around, while they planned articles for The Union Signal, one of whose A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 3 1 editors Miss Ames had become soon after taking up her residence at the Cottage, or read over some manu- script or talked over the general work. Occasionally a peal of laughter would ring out, for both of these friends had a keen sense of the ludicrous and were quick to catch the humorous side of things. Miss Willard as a conversationalist has no equal, and it was at these times that Yolande gained her great- , est inspiration. The spiritual nature of my beloved was of the rarest type, it had deep undertones, and as a rose which the sun kisses, opens and lets the warmth and sunlight into its very heart — so when Yolande and Miss Willard talked of the ' ' deep things" of Ood, did her spiritual nature grow and enlarge, and one listener of those talks always felt at such times that she was on holy ground. The reasoning faculties of Yolande were con- tinually called into play, because of the questions which her loved teacher was ever putting to her, calling out arguments which showed her trend and breadth of thought. Miss Willard was constantly giving Yolande opportunities for mental and spiritual growth, putting her in the way of securing such helps as would polish still more the fine-grained oak of her character. A hearty co-operation and approval was always given by this great friend of humanity, to plans which Yolande presented, which would in their workings advance the great causes of God and re- form. No day was complete, when Miss Willard was at home, without her going up to the '"■ Den " to seethe "Chieftain," no task too arduous to perform M she desired it, no praise too great to be given to the 32 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. woman she so gladly followed ; love, loyalty, devotion on Yolande's part, love, appreciation, trust on Miss Willard's. Dear Madame Willard was to my friend a great sheet anchor, for Yolande received from her the sweet- est lessons of hope and trust. Often I would miss the dear one, and going into the parlor would find Madame Willard and herself talking over some passages of Scripture, or, perhaps, Yolande reading to her, or, it might be, they were earnestly discussing some point of belief. Those were deep draughts of spiritual waters which she quaffed there — and they gave her new strength to push forward and onward to the heavenly city, whose beauties she knows all about now ; whose mysteries she has solved and understands ; and I, who am left behind, find that the greatest and sweetest con- solation I have had comes also from Madame Willard, who has helped to steady my barque when, in the fear- ful storm of sorrow and loneliness which has come on me, the timbers creaked and the anchor was well-nigh torn from its moorings. The artist instinct was strong in Yolande, and she was quick to detect all incongruous elements, and with a single touch would bring out of what was before confusion, harmony in color and arrangement. She was a passionate lover of flowers, reveling in their fragrance and richness, their beauty being reflected in her own lovely face. At so many of our little gatherings did her deft fingers arrange flowers, and glasses, and the dainty little bric-a-brac of the house and table furnishings, making things look like fairy- land. A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 33 She visited Europe in 1890, being gone for months, and satisfied some of her longings for the beautiful, in the scenes she visited, the paintings and statues she looked on. While in England she became acquainted with that gracious, royal woman, Isabel, Eady Henry Somerset, who afterwards became another strong fac- tor in her life, giving her love and trust which lasted until her death. In her letters, and on her return, Yolande was full of praise for this consecrated, beauti- ful character — recognizing the fact that she was a great leader, whose heart was full of a desire to make the world better, and bring it nearer to Christ. Yolande was unqualifiedly trusted by her friends — her gentleness and true heart making for her friends by the score, and she stood surrounded by as true and loving ones as ever a woman had : Mrs. Matilda B. Carse, who induced Yolande to enter the journalistic field ; Miss Esther Pugh, our National W. C. T. U. treasurer ; Misses West, Sudduth, Guernsey, and Mrs. Andrew, her associates in the office ; Anna Gor- don, Kate Jackson, Miss Scovil, Alice Briggs, Ruby Gilbert, and others, who came into almost daily contact with her, were among those she loved and clung to. She had never lost by death any friend or rela- tive to whom she was greatly attached, and once when speaking to me on this subject she said : " Helen, I have never known what real sorrow is, the winds have not blown roughly on me ; why should I not thank God unceasingly because of what He has done for me ? " And I, sitting in the stillness of our sepa- ration, thank the dear Father that her life was so sunny and full of richness ; that she had never faced 34 A VOUNG WOMAX JOURNALIST. its Strong, rough phases, but that, sheltered and shielded by loving hearts and strong hands, she had escaped much of its agony and heart break. And so our lives ran on — six years of blessed joy and love, one with another ; years when we met and conquered difficulties together — when the battles of life were fought out by each other's side. It was a loving comradeship, a daily going in and out, no separation— one purpose — one life-work. But foi some good reason, which God one day will reveal, the end came. In Boston, attending the National W. C. T. U. Convention of 1891, my friend was taken ill and we went to one of the hospitals for treatment. In our room there, together, we lived some of the happiest days of our happy life. We were both tired and worn, as the work during the last year had been unusually severe and perplexing, so that Yolande spoke for me when she said : " Helen, I am glad we two are going to be shut in together ; what a good time v/e shall have, only you and I." The days went on and to all human appearance my loved one was getting better. How we talked arid planned for the future — how, in the quiet and stillness, we again entered deeper into one another's lives and became closer united in our life-work. That last day — how we thought of the "home going" which we hoped soon was to be ours — the desires of our lives grew stronger — before God we reconsecrated our lives to His service — "It will be victory, Helen, ' ' she often said, keeping in mind a song called "Vic- tory " which had been a favorite one in the Conven- tion. And the niarht came on. and the dreaded A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 35 Presence of Death listened, while we, unconscious of his nearness, talked of life ; soon, with but little warning, I knew that my friend was leaving me, and soon I knew, with an agony of heart, that she ivas not, for the Master had come and claimed His own. Then something in me, also, died. We dressed her in fair robes, kind friends assist- ing, and then they said to me, " Come, and see her." And I went to my friend, and, taking her in my arms, saw upon her still face the glorious triumph of a risen soul, and through my grief came these words from her : ' ' Helen, it is the victory ; I am satisfied, for I am awake and in His likeness." I carried her home to our loved Rest Cottage and there with her in the midst, with Miss Willard, and other dear ones, we held our simple, loving service. The flowers which she so dearly loved, were in profusion in the "sanc- tum " of dear Anna Gordon, where my friend was lying, and a sweet smile of content seemed on her face because she was in the home that she loved so well, and with those whom she loved so devotedly. The next day, with the song, " God be with you till we meet again," ringing out on the morning air, as for the last time she left Rest Cottage, I carried her to her home in Streator, and stood beside the grave which contained only the body of my comrade, and knew that for me during all the rest of life the path- way will be lonely, because I must walk it without her. With the ever-present memory of our friendship on earth, with the remembrance of that noble, Christ- like life, with her beautiful face, perfect in feature, constantly in my heart, I can say, not "I had a 36 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. friend," but, "I have a friend," whose life is going on and on— sunny it was, here, glorious light is it there. " God keeps a niche In Heaven to hold our idols ; and albeit He brake them to our faces and denied That our close kisses should impair their white, I know we shall behold them raised, complete. The dust swept from their beauty— glorified New Memnons singing in the great God-light." In ti)e Wioxk^R^Mn 2MorlU. MARY ALLEN WEST. ISS WIIvLARD writes me, " Lady Henry Somerset and I are preparing a book in memory of Yolande ; we are especially desirous of knowing those things about her which you know "M the best ; the spirit and temper she showed ^ in the ofl&ce, the ingenious methods by which she sought to build up the paper, the fun, the pathos, any and every thing that comes to your mind as helpful to young women journalists." Could I portray what Miss Ames was in the office, as she stands in my own mind, it would be both an inspiration and a model to all young journalists. But that is impossible; hers was a pervading presence, like the fragrance of mignonette, recognized every- where, yet difficult to fix and analyze. Had she exercised her gift of writing, instead of the higher one of inspiring authorship in others, we should have her published writings from which to draw something tangible to present to those who were never blessed by knowing her, and thus show them what her work was. But this we have not. Hei 38 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. great diffidence about writing, was ever a mystery to me, nor can I even now account for it ; that she could write admirably, her private letters and occasional pa- pers read before literary societies abundantly testify ; but she shrank from writing anything to appear in print like a diffident school-girl. It seemed as if her life, like that of many silent poets, was enriched and fructified by what she did not write, the unuttered power and pathos which, restrained within her own soul, kept it in touch with noble and beautiful thought everywhere. This, it may be, was the divining-rod which led her so unerringly to discover unsuspected wells within others' beings. But I must try to analj^ze, that I may show you what was ' ' the spirit and temper she showed in the office." First, it seems to me, was her intense desire after excellence, to do everything in the best possible way. This was displayed in whatever she did. One of her early teachers told me only a few days ago that this was the one characteristic which most impressed him when she was his pupil ; she was never satisfied with doing any but the very best work. Closely allied to this, was her teachableness, her eagerness to learn the more excellent way, let the teacher be whom it might. During the five years we worked together, I do not believe there was a day when we were both in the office, in which she did not come to me with the question, "Do you think this would be a good plan?" or, "Would you arrange this so?" At an editorial banquet, she quietly drew from all the leading editors present their views and A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 39 ways of working in a specific direction she was at that time investigating. Yet so adroitly was this done, that I doubt if one of those grave and reverend seigniors suspected he was giving the bright-faced young woman the very information of which she was then in search. Yet hers was no passive receptivity ; she did not simply absorb, but culled, adapted, digested. "She asked other folks' advice and then did as she had a mind to," an admirable thing to do, by the way, as it implies the power of discrimination, which she pos- sessed in eminent degree. I never knew one whose judgment was more trustworthy. Her quick and keen appreciation of the demands of the times, developed by the ever-varying conditions of our work, was another characteristic which marked her a born journalist. She realized just what was needed ; her rapid reading of the morning paper on the cars often brought her to my desk with the sug- gestion, "We need an editorial on that." And her constant, watchful outlook over the wide field kept her full of plans for the consideration of this subject or that. Instinctively she seemed to know the right one to present the desired phase of the subject, and her magic wand drew out clear waters from what, to me, had proved flinty rock. Making all due allowance for the fact that when she took charge of its contrib- uted department. The Union Signal had grown out of its experimental stage when first-class writers looked askance at it, into a world-wide circulation which commanded their respect, and that its finances 40 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. allowed it to pay for contributions, an impossibility in its earlier days, there still remains a wide margin which must be credited to her winning power in securing contributions. Nobody with a heart could refuse her, especially if a personal interview allowed the winsomeness of her face to add its attractive power to that of voice or pen. This is the testi- mony given over and over again by the busiest writers in the land, "We could not refuse Miss Ames." Her power as a letter writer, especially along this line, was exceptional ; like all her powers, this was assiduously and conscientiously cultivated. She carefully studied, not only the subjects she wished presented, and reasons why the ones she had chosen were the very ones to present them, but she studied quite as carefully the tastes and dispositions of those to whom she applied, and carefully adapted her appeal to these tastes and dispositions. All this was done in perfect accord with the underlying stratum of her character, pure genuineness. She never flat- tered nor fawned ; what she said came straight from the heart, a heart instructed by a wise, discriminating head. She was original and suggestive ; she originated the departments of Illustrated Biographies and Queen's Gardens, as well as many minor improve- ments. She studied the style of leading journals to gain suggestions for our own ; she was very particular about the make-up of her pages, that they might look attractive, and by proper position give each article its due weight. A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 4I "Seeketh not her own, is not puffed up," was pre-eminently true of Miss Ames. Jealous of herself, lest any imperfect work should come from her hand, she was jealous of no one else, but rejoiced in all the praise given to others. She never sought it for her- self ; for her, ' ' the end crowned the work ' ' ; she needed not the praise of others to complete her joy in work well done. A sharp critic upon her own work, she naturally desired excellence in the work of those associated with her; but if ever, for a moment, ' ' make- up " and " proof reader " thought her exacting, they were soon brought to see that her way was the best way and that improved results more than compen- sated for the extra trouble. Thus she kept up a high standard of excellence in the mechanical, as well as the literary execution of the paper. A sweet reason- ableness pervaded all her conduct with employes, and endeared her to them. Never, we believe, was more sincere mourning among employes when an editor died, than among ours, when Miss Ames was called up higher. She had been as a loving sister to them, unobtrusively entering into their sorrows, rejoicing in their suc- cesses, genuinely glad for all that made them happy. Her coming brought sunshine into the darkest day, her quiet, cheery laugh was sweet music which no clatter of machinery could drown. No picture of Miss Ames in the office would be complete without the lights thrown by her inter- course with visitors. No matter how busy or tired she was, nor how prosy or tiresome the visitor might be. her sweet Christian courtesy never failed. When, 42 A YOUXG WOMAN JOURNALIST. as was more frequently the case, the caller was one of "our own," her whole nature seemed to expand in pleasant welcome, making that hour a memorable one to the visitor ever after. There were depths in her nature no pen-plummet can sound ; confidences of the sanctum too sacred for public gaze. Bright, winning, joyous as she was, hers was an intensely sensitive soul ; she could not have possessed the power she did had this not been so — and it could not help being often wounded. A cold or harsh word would bring the tears into those beautiful eyes and the quiver to those expressive lips. As the weeks and months passed on, she became more and more full}' Christ-possessed ; no other word expresses the power which came to rule that young life. She talked very little of the change her soul was undergoing, but we all felt it. Such rapid spirit- ual development is rarely witnessed ; it seemed like the growth of vegetation in Southern California, where a night of mist and rain and a day of sunshine bring lilies and roses into full, perfected bloom. Her asphodels were full-bloomed when the boatman came. TRIBUTH-S OF CO-LABORERS. Our Yolande had two sides. All great characters have. She was not " two-sided," but the world knew her in one way, and her intimate friends in another. To those v/ho saw her but casually, she was sanguine, light-hearted, vivacious. To those who were in close A YOUXG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 43 daily contact, and could see the depths and heights of her heart's purposes, she was strangely serious, weighted down with the solemnity of life and her own vital relation to it. With ideals high as heaven for others, as well as for herself, the shortcomings of none pained her so deeply as her own. Her judgment was tempered with a charity most rare. Discriminating in her praise, she was not slow to speak her gratitude and appreciation. Winsomeness was her chief characteristic. Irre- sistible in her pleading, it was well that no taint of selfishness or personal ambition marred her plans and thwarted her life's purposes. Her beaming face brighteued every darkened room, and her matchless smile and musical voice, so sweet in tone and strong in revealed character, together with her keen percep- tion and ready wit, bridged many a real difiBculty and dispelled many an imaginary one. She put fear to flight and crowned doubt with hope. Never too much absorbed in her own heavy duties to lend a sympathetic ear to others, her counsel was always sought in a perplexit}' and never did she fail. Purity of aim, breadth of vision, directness of attack and enthusiasm of execution marked her every act. Beautiful we called her, and beautiful she was, but since the spirit has left the temple, we know that it was the soul that lighted that face and gave it its power and beauty. " For of the soule the bodie forme doth take ; For soule is forme, and doth the bodie make."' 44 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNAIJST. Hail and farewell, beloved I We would not have it otherwise. Earth is poorer for your going, but heaven is richer. Once more, farewell ! Associate Editor. ONLY AT REST. What, dead? When we loved her so, And her heart replied. Pulsing warm with Love's glowing tide? What, dead ? In the flush of morn, Her life-sky bright, Dawnlight darkened to sudden night i* What, dead ? E'en the generous hands Forever still, Answering not to life's quick thrill ? Not dead ! Faith never dies ; Truth lives for aye. In the golden glow of the perfect day. Not dead ! Love can not die , Still she is ours, Only at rest in the heart of the flowers. A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 45 Only at rest, And loving us yet, With love that shall never know Change or regret. Editor Books and Leaflets. Yolande ! at the mention of that name one of the fairest and dearest faces I have ever looked upon on earth comes before me. I see eyes, honest, large and loving — once looked into, you could never doubt the owner. And the lips, so sensitive, tender and tremu- lous, what a world of sweetness gathered about them. Who could resist her pleadings !— when such lips spoke she won all hearts. Her aim was always high, and every undertaking succeeded that she enlisted in, because she gave herself unselfishly to it with such enthusiasm and honest, earnest work that success was inevitable. A character more rounded and beau- tiful I have never known. She was ripe for the heavenly home. Sweet young comrade ! the tears rush unbidden to my eyes as I think of the poverty of the earth without you — but surely heaven seems richer, nearer, brighter and more to be desired for your going. Yolande Ames, at thirty, had lived longer and accomplished more than most women at threescore years and ten. We must remember that high aim, not years, is liv- ing. Her life and memory should be kept in loving remembrance by our young women. ffiatifba B. €ari?c. rresident W. T. P. A. 46 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. And Julia Ames is dead ? How can it be ? The first impulse said, We can not consent to it. Why, only a few weeks ago she came to tell me that friends wanted her to engage in other activities, and I ex- claimed : "No; we can not spare you !" And now we must, although unreconciled. Of all the workers in our busy hive, she could least be spared. The sunshine of her happy life shed a radiance that was everywhere a benediction. Her very presence was helpful. In perplexity, she was clear-headed and sound in judgment ; in taste, dis- criminating and wise ; in trouble, cheery and helpful ; in labor, self-sacrificing and faithful ; in service, true and loyal ; in friendship, devoted. Her Christian principles permeated her life and were uplifting to others. Her memory clings to us as the fragrance of a choice blossom from the garden of our God. 3annv 1^. Kac?fa[f. Business Manager W. T. P. .\. A tribute to Yolande ? She needs it not. Word of mine can not add to the precious memories of her, filling all hearts here, can not add to her happiness — there. My one thought of her is — s/ic lives — glori- ously, exultantly, triumphantly — lives. Yolande had much in her earth-life; she had, I believe, her heart's desire in entering the heavenly A YOUXG WOMAX JOURNALIST. 47 life, for, with Mrs. Barbauld, I think she would have said : "Life ! * * * 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear, Perhaps 'twiU cost a sigh, a tear ; So steal away, give little warniug, Choose thiue owu time ; Say not 'good-night,' but in some brighter clime Bid me 'good-morning.' " But in the new life, Yolande has all things, — all purity, all knowledge, all service, — has the free, abounding life for which she longed. In that life as in this, " Life's more than breath, and the quick rouad of blood, It is a great spirit and a busy heart," and so Yolande lives and is " satisfied." " We hve in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, not breaths ; la feeHngs, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives, Who thinks most — feels the noblest -acts the best." Thus reckoning time, Yolande's life, always im- pelled, toward the highest, the purest, the best, was not short, for she lived, loved, suffered, vdth all the intensity of a strong, deep nature. " The coward, and the small in soul, scarce do live ; One generous feeling— one great thought— one deed Of good, ere night, would make life longer seem Than if each year might number a thousand days, — Spent as is this by nations of mankind. ******* 48 A VOTING WOMAN JOURNALIST. Life's but a means unto an end — that end. Beginning, mean and end to all things— (iod. The dead have all the glory of the world," (Those dead to self, I think the poet means.) "Why will we live and not be glorious? We never can be deathless — //// we die.'' So living, so dying, may we go on to greet the friend who has gone on before, "Just to learn the Heaven for 'welcome ' To that bright and blessed shore." Cashier W. T. P. A. My pen pauses long and reverently before it fixes in black and white a tribute that is heart-deep, and would be, if it could, complete and fitting. It is as one of Miss Ames' assistants in the edi- torial rooms, that I wish to write a testimony that, do the best I will, must fall far short of the truth. I loved her first when I sav/ her first — the day she bade me, a stranger in Chicago, w^elcome, in that gracious, heartsome way, peculiarl}' her own, that made one feel truly wcU-comc. I was her stenographer, and even when thor- oughly tired it did me good when she would say, " Can you write e?idlcss letters for me to-day ? " Her correspondents all over the world know what those letters were like — I only wish they could know how A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 49 they were written. It is one thing to write always kindly, generously, patiently — another thing to feel the kindness, generosity and patience, when before one is a desk almost hidden by the ever-incoming work ; when the dictation is given amid almost count- less interruptions, or with a body and mind wearied well-nigh beyond endurance. But it used to give me a feeling curiously like triumph to watch Miss Ames at such times and never witness a failure. The phrases oftenest on her lips, when we were shut up together over a bewildering mass of letters, were such as these : ' ' We must write this letter our very pretty- most " ; "Help me, dear, to say this just rigid; I never want to say 'no' unkindly"; "I wish I had time to write better letters." Sometimes work crowded, so she could not even dictate some of the mere business letters and would intrust them to me, saying: "Be kind, — that is the best way, you know." Several times, upon examining letters thus left to me, she returned one or more with the gentle criticism, "You have said it all, but I am a bit afraid it will not read the way we mean it. Can't you take the abruptness out ? ' ' All this, not for praise or notice, but from the innate, gentle womanliness, which would not wound the remotest stranger by any possibility. We understand people better, somehow, when they have passed into that ' ' next room ' ' none enter save at the bidding of the King, and I think now I read deeper into the underlying motives that made Miss Ames such a painstaking letter-writer. Was it not because she realized that written words, 50 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. after all, are living things, and must touch living hearts for weal or woe ? I could write a thousand minute instances in which I read those shining traits that made her so lovable and so beloved. As I sat at ray desk in our reception-room I used to pause in my work sometimes because of the charm in her manner as she met callers, or "because of the beauty in her voice as she read aloud to her oflfice-mate. Personally, I have many a lovely deed for which to hold her in long and tender memory. Yet I never thanked her — she made it impossible. There are some people it is easy to thank for deeds and gifts ; but are there not souls whose giving and doing is so entirely away from self, that appreciation can only be shown by silent acceptance ? Thus, I was ever silent before her kindnesses, but I have no fear that she misunderstood. How many times she made me " rest absolutely for just five minutes," drawing me into her room away from work, and pushing me gently into a chair beside her. Sometimes, when I thought I was too weary or too busy for the noonday lunch, I would come to my desk after an absence from the room, and find one waiting, and hear, "You just eat that for me ! ' ' But my thoughts linger most tenderly about one day I spent with her — November 3rd. The evening before, she called me into her room, and giving rae one of her bonny smiles, said , ' ' Dear, I have a scheme— just for you and me. We are going to do our work to-morrow at Rest Cottage. We will just run away from every one." She was not well, then, and I had been tired for some time. The next A YOUXG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 5 1 morning I went with note-book and pencils to Evan- ston and Rest Cottage — my first visit to both. She met me as, it seemed to me, only Miss Ames could meet and greet any one, and removing mj^ wraps with her own hands, led me into a room which she called ' ' ours " — her own and Miss Hood's. She put me into a great "dreaming chair," placed a rest for my feet, and leaning over kissed ray forehead, saying, " Now, rest ' ' ; she left me, and as I had no work I could pos- sibly do, I did rest body and soul, in that beautiful room. When she came back, she gave me some writing to do, and, as I wrote, brought a plate with white and purple grapes, a golden orange and a rosy- cheeked apple. ' ' Eat and work — then it is more like play !" But she took none herself, and I wondered if she ever " played " except to please some one else. By and by she took me by the hand, saying, " Now, we will go over the house." And so, though I had gone to work, the "play" and rest predominated. I reminded her of it, thinking she really needed me, for it was just before the great Convention. "Never mind the work. I brought you here more for a change than anything else. Did n't I say it was a scheme?''' Then the lovely scheme went on, while she took me from room to room, adding charm to the surroundings by her vivid bits of explanation and narrative. Last of all, we went to "The Den " and there I was presented to Madame Willard. As a child once said upon an occasion of glad solemnity — " It was like being in church ! " We worked, then, for the rest of the da}-— that is, she did. She kept urging me to "rest," for she 52 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. knew how tired I had been, for a long time, of city sights and sounds, and seemed to know how her gen- erous "scheme " was refreshing me. That was almost the last work I did for her, — then came the hurrj' of preparation before tne departure for Boston. Just before she passed through the c ffice door, after she bade me good-bye with a laughing injunction to "be good," I called after her, " Oh, do take care of yourself ! ' ' and laden though she was with packages, hurried though she was, and sur- rounded by her friends and companions, she turned about and shook her finger at me, smiled, nodded her head and was gone. It was as if the sun had sud- denly gone down. And it had. That bright, soul- sunshine has never shone in these rooms since, though, somehow, when we talk about her, there is a lightening of the shadow that reminds one of the world-sunlight seen through a mist of rain. What more can I say? Her loved ones have well-nigh exhausted phrases to tell what she was and how endeared to them. Surely she was, and is, in preciousness of heart and mind and soul, "far above rubies. " Editorial Secretary. LADY HENRY SOMERSET. HAD just finished my first address as President of the British Women's Temperance Association, in May, 1S90, when I turned to Mrs. Han- nah Whitall Smith, who stood on the platform by my side, and she presented to me a lad}' who had accompanied her to the meeting. I stretched out my hand to greet the guest who had been sent as a delegate from the White-Ribbon army, and as I clasped her hand I looked for the first time into the face of Julia Ames. Bright, eager, and buoyant, with that sympathetic smile which meets one like a flood of sunshine, a more intellectually beautiful girl I had never seen. Her warm greeting and her earnest manner were singu- larly striking, and as I left the hall I thought that America had certainly sent us one of her choicest spirits. I met her again at the home of our mutual friend and sat with her through one long summer afternoon, looking out on the river where the boats were passing to and fro, talking of all the topics nearest to me and 53 54 A YOrXG WOMAN- JOURXALIST. which for the last few years had formed her life's occupation. She told me how she entered the journal- istic career, and I questioned her of all the grand work women have accomplished in America, of the onward march of the great reform armj', and of its President, who had long been a figure of deepest in- terest to me. Her glowing words of admiration and the deep love with which she spoke of her great leader, only increased my earnest desire to know Miss Willard. It has been my good fortune through life to meet many intelligent women, but I never remember being more impressed with the thorough whole-heartedness of so young a girl. Her eager desire for knowledge was almost pathetic, as was her determination that not a moment should be lost, during her .short sta)^, in lay- ing up fresh stores of information in the old country. I have always held that journalism is to-day "the gift of prophecy," which Miss Willard so aptly calls the sixth sense, and this prescience of coming events was a strong characteristic of Julia Ames. An idea only half expressed would soon formulate in her mind as an exact thought ; she was so quick to seize a situ- ation and grasp an opportunity. W. T. Stead spoke to me of her talent with warm admiration. " I have never met a young woman," said he, " who struck me as having so great a talent for journalism." During the summer she accompanied me to one of our monthly conferences where she was to speak of the Press work that was so near her heart. I can see her now, as she stood before the audience, dignified and calm, as with a voice sweet and deep she handled A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 55 a subject that from other lips and from another mind might have been dull and business-like, but she gave it such a touch of poetry and a sense of consecration that her words brought tears to my eyes. Everything seemed hallowed : the daily grind of a journalist's life, the art of compositors, even the mechanical work of the proof-reader, all were interwoven with the highest thoughts and noblest purposes. There was to my mind something heroic in the enthusiasm with which she spoke of the career that she had adopted. Her words gave an inspiration to her hearers and at the close of the meeting one of our brightest women arose and volunteered for the work at once, and I believe the impression made that day still lives in our hearts. Later in the season she stayed with me at Eastnor Castle. How well I remember her bright face and the look of joyous health that gave her such charm, as she came forward out of the darkness into the glow of light as I went to bid her welcome to my home. The house was full of visitors, and, during her stay, one and all took occasion to tell me how much they appreciated her intellect and beautiful refinement of character. It was during this short visit that I sounded' her deeper nature. One early autumn morn- ing as we went together to attend a little meeting that was held for the people among the hills, as we drove through the soft, balmy air she told me some of her higher aspirations and much of her inner thoughts, and I realized how true and thorough and whole- hearted was the consecration of her life. Her visit to Ober-Ammergau had made a deep impression on her mind ; and when I asked her if she did not feel 56 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURXALTST. in some way that the scenes were almost repellant in their realism, she said in her earnest way, "They brought Christ nearer to me than He had ever been before," and there was something in her tone that made me feel that He was near, indeed. I saw her again when, for the first time, I stepped on American soil, and it was to me as if a home face had come from across the water. I saw her at Boston, self-sacrificing, devoted to the last, caring for all except herself and forgetting her own interest in the loyal desire to do all she knew for the cause she held so dear. I saw her last, stretched on her bed of sickness with her devoted friend. Miss Hood, beside her, and as I laid some flowers in her hand there came to me the strong presentiment that I should see her no more until we met in the fields of light. Beautiful Yolande! Our greeting will be sweet on those shores, sweeter even than i^ w^as when you held out vour hand and smiled upon me here in the new country. From "l/anJ)5 now foC^oD in i^t ^reamfcss iEttglanD. May 20, rSgo. 'o-DAY I first set foot on English soil. What a history has this little island and what an influence on the history of the world! Every foot of its green soil could speak eloquently of great events. Arriving in Dublin at 4:30 a. m., I sang Kathleen Mavourneen, the gray dawn is breaking," as we drove to the station; after a wretched breakfast we took the train for Kingstown, where we found an elegant mail steamer in readiness to take us to Holyhead, sixty-six miles distant. We caught delightful glimpses of the Welsh coast and in four hours reached shore, where we took the express train for London. At classic Chester we stopped for lunch and Mrs. Barnes ordered a "basket." Such a nice way, for you can eat at your leisure and leave the basket in the compartment ! I did want to stop at that old cit3^ one of the chief military stations of the Romans in Britain, and walk around the walls which completely surround it. All day we were kept in a state of exclamation, for the country looked like a garden. The farms are not much larger than our lawns and as perfectly 6o A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. kept ; snow-white sheep dotted the green grass, and daisies and buttercups were as thick as the stars on a summer night and looked much like them. At 6:30 we reached Mrs. Hannah Whitall Smith's door, and found a note telling us to come at once to Memorial Hall to a reception given by the British Women's Temperance Association. So, after taking tea and donning our other gowns, we hastened to meet our "sisters." How sweet Mrs. Smith's "benedic- tion face" looked ! The first person to greet us was Mrs. J. Ellen Foster, and I was glad to sit b}' her side and hear her speak, with no shadow between us as there always seems to be at our National Conven- tions. I was introduced, and said a few words in response. How glad we were to go to bed and sleep ! I felt so sensibly the Everlasting Arms around me and prayed God to keep my loved ones safely until we meet again ! May 21. — A beautiful day. I asked Mr. Smith where the notorious London fog was. He said the sun was behaving unusually well for our benefit, but often it was so dark at noon you could not see a step before you, and could only find your way by having a small boy by your side with a torch. I was charmed with Mr. Smith. He looks like an Englishman and talks like one, and is so refined and genial, is devoted to culture and has the entree to all literarj^ circles. After breakfast we hastened to the Convention of the British Women's Temperance Association. I spread out the literature of our Woman's Temperance Publishing As.sociation, and then went to the plat- form. Was surprised and delighted at the fluencj' of A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 6 1 the speakers, but everything seemed very "cut and dried," for no motion was made from the floor, every- thing was introduced hy some lady who had been pre- viously selected, seconded by some one else and supported by others. We learned that to present a resolution, or second it, meant an opportunity for a speech, often on another subject. They always ended with, "I have great pleasure in seconding (or sup- porting) the resolution." The vote was taken b}^ blue cards, each delegate holding up her card. Very funny it seemed to us to hear the chairman say, "Thank you." Indeed, this is a thankful nation; everything you do is acknowledged in this way. We called Jimmie, our cabin boy on the ship, "Little Thank You." L,ady Henry Somerset quite captured my heart. Hannah Whitall Smith asked her how it was that she became so earnest a Christian, She said, with her it was either black or white, and so one entire winter she shut herself up and communed with God and learned of Him. She is so noble and true ; devotes herself to good works. Mrs. Smith said when she was at Eastnor Castle last winter, there were two poor consumptives there, dying ; each had a trained nurse and every comfort, and the only tie that bound them to their hostess was that which makes the whole world kin. Lady Henry's inauguration address was royal, a classic in its diction, and her rarely beautiful spirit shone through it. How Miss Willard will love her, for she is broad and progressive like our own beloved leader. Whenever Miss Willard's name was men- 62 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. tioned, how the audience cheered ! A royal welcome awaits you, beloved, on this side. The British women were all so kind to us. Many were the invitations we received to visit them at their homes. May 22. — The feature of to-day's meeting was the evening session held in the large hall. Mrs. Barnes did splendidly. Representatives from ten noble fam- ilies sat upon the platform. The sister-in-law of Charles Kingsley read a fine paper and Antoinette Sterling sang most exquisitel}'. Her voice is remark- ably rich and pure. How rich in soul-food have been these last two days ! Blessings on all my loved friends who helped me to this feast ! How good God has ever been to me ! My heart for gladness sings His praise ! May 2j. — This morning I spent in writing to the loved ones at home. In the afternoon we went to call upon Lady Henry Somerset. We talked over all phases of the work and I am delighted with her pro- gressiveness. Mr. Smith called for us in the carriage, with coachman in liver}', at five o'clock, and away we went to join the swells in Hyde Park. This beautiful park covers an area of eight hun- dred and ninety acres ; it was laid out under Henry VIII. and is one of the most frequented and lovely scenes in London. In the Drive we passed an un- broken file of the most elegant equipages I ever saw, drawn by high-bred horses in handsome trap- pings, presided over by sleek coachmen and powdered lackeys, and occupied by beautiful women most A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 63 exquisitely dressed. In Rotten Row were many lady and gentlemen riders on glossy steeds, and standing and sitting to watch ns go by, were thousands of admiring people. I could hardly believe it was /, sitting there in such style. But my heart was at Rest Cottage, Beautiful statues adorn the park, the Serpentine was covered with boats filled with happy people, and all the world seemed joyous this beautiful May day. May 2^. — I stole down to the National Gallery and had a delicious hour. To think that this huge building erected in 1832-38 at a cost of ^96,000 and containing over twelve hundred pictures, should have grown from the Angerstein collection of thirty-eight paintings I I was delighted to find many old favorites, among them Rosa Bonheur's Horse Fair, and many by Land- seer. "A Distinguished Member of the Humane Societ}^ " looked at me as if he would speak and bid me welcome. The pictures of St. Augustine and St. Monica held me spellbound, so pure and heavenly was the expression of their faces. I must go again, soon, to this rare gallery. This afternoon was perfect and Mr. Smith took us in the " American " carriage to drive. We wound in and out through narrow little lanes with quaint old houses, until we came to Battersea Park, one hun- dred and eight3'-five acres in extent, and for the especial use of the poor. All kinds of amusements are furnished, and what a good time the people were having ! 64 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. We passed miles and miles of villas, each with its peculiar name. The hawthorn trees looked like snowbanks and the perfume was like elixir. We drew long breaths and wished our lungs could ex- pand more. Eight miles of beauty form this park. We saw large herds of deer. Such beautiful creat- ures thej^ are ! We went to the Star and Garter Inn, and had a fine view of the Thames from the terrace. No river is so given up to pleasure. From this point the regatta starts. Pembroke Lodge in this park was the seat of the illustrious statesman, Lord John Russell, and the small church of Richmond contains the tomb of Edmund Kean, the famous actor. The drive home was very pleasant and dinner thoroughly enjoyed. I spent the evening with Mr. Smith on his balcony. The scene was bewitching ; as the sun set about nine o'clock, Lambeth Bridge and Palace were all aglow and the hum of the great city as it sank to rest was a soothing lullaby. Siaiday, May 2^. — My first Sunday in this great, historic old city! A world in itself. It does not seem possible that within its borders dwell five million souls, each with as distinct an individuality as my own. Oh, this poor humanity which "beats its life along the stony street" ! How it goes to my heart to see the faces of some of the poor, care-worn women ! Still, the opportunities of pleasure for the poor are innumerable : parks, galleries, museums, gardens, all are open to them. This is Whitsunday, the day Christ established His church. I can not express my feelings as I ■0-i*" HIS morning the "Ems" reached Bremen House. A tender came down the river to meet us, and after the usual custom-house fraud had been enacted we took the train for Bre- men, a tw^o hours' ride. Arrived in the fine station we had lunch in the waiting-room where sat men and women all drinking beer. How awful it seemed to me, with my enlightenment on the subject, no one will ever know ! At one o'clock we took the train for Berlin (seven hours). The country through which we passed was not especially interesting ; very like our prairies, with now and then a beautiful field of poppies. The forests, too, were dark and carefully kept, but I longed to plunge into the heart of the Black Forest. Everything is clean, of course. Stolid and solid are the German characteristics. The houses did not look as odd as I expected, but the roofs of red tiles or thatched and covered with moss, were in keeping with my German traditions. How glad I was to see Mrs. Mary B. Willard at the station ! We took carriages and were soon at her home. The street is very quiet and pretty and the entrance hall imposing ; all marble and paint- A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 79 ings. Mrs. Willard has the third floor, and every- thing is homelike and artistic. After a nice supper we went to bed very tired. A letter from dear Helen awaited my coming. I thank God hourly that all are well at home. P. S. — I should have said droschkc iox carriage, and Stage for floor. July 2. — I did not awaken until ten o'clock. En- jo3ed the German breakfast very much and was ready to start to Potsdam thereafter. It is a city of 48,500 inhabitants and the capital of Brandenburg. The town is of Slavonic origin but was of no impor- tance until the Grand Elector founded his palace there. It is indebted for its modern splendor to Frederick the Great, who generally resided there. After a nice dinner served on a balcony overlooking the river Werder, where the white swans were sailing up and down, we went to the palace ; in front of it, is a lime tree where petitioners used to station them- selves to attract the attention of Frederick the Great who could watch unobserved from his office, the walls of which are covered with mirrors. The table in this room is very curious ; the center can be let down by means of a trap-door, and the different courses served without servants. Here it was the old Emperor could see his friends in private. I am glad / am not so watched. The rooms are very handsome; silver and gold everywhere. The walls are covered with exquisite gold cloth, and silver and gold figures and vines adorn ceilings and walls. 80 A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. A beautiful picture of " Christ weeping over Jeru- salem " attracted me and I longed to sit before it for hours. He weeps over us to-daj', just the same, I doubt not. Next, we visited the Friedenskirche, or "Church of Peace." There is also a palace connected with it, with beautiful gardens. We walked around the palisades from which are the most charming views. The mausoleum of the late Emperor, who reigned but three months, erected by the Empress Victoria, is be- ing built, and just in front of it stands a copy of Thorwaldsen's "Risen ChrivSt," which almost made me kneel before it. The original is at Copenhagen but it can not be more wonderful than this. Christ stands with His hands outstretched as in blessing, and the expression is divine. In this church are buried Frederick William IV. and his queen, Elizabeth. The drive to the palace of " Sans-Souci," was very beautiful and interesting. We saw the old mill which Frederick wanted to buy and the miller refused to sell. The king demanded it, but the miller refused his request, and finally the mat- ter went to court ana was decided against Frederick, who was great enough to recognize justice and sub- mit to it. He became a warm friend of the miller ard did much for him. The "Sans-Souci" (without care — place of rest and pleasure) is not very pretentious but was a favorite residence of the old monarch. Here Voltaire visited him, and, after their falling out, Frederick had one room decorated with monkeys, parrots, peacocks, and everything which represents folly y v.'''4j ■I .•< Jl* ^cU^etJ'c A YOUNG WOMAN JOURNALIST. 8 1 and vanity, in derision of the writer. Many of the personal belongings of the Emperor are just as he left them. In his bedroom is the clock he used to wind, and which stopped at his death. His portrait, for which he sat but one hour, and that the only time he ever sat for his picture, hangs in this same room. After the Seven Years' War the people all said Frederick the Great had made himself poor, and to prove he had not exhausted his finances he built the new palace which is the summer home of the present Emperor. This, and all the Potsdam palaces, far exceed the English in beauty and elegance. The ' ' Grotto Saloon ' ' is the most beautiful room I ever saw ; shells, priceless stones of all kinds and from all over the world, cover the room and are in all shapes and designs. By gaslight the scene must be bewitch- ing. Every room was even more grand than I had expected a royal home to be. The floors are hand- somely inlaid, the ceilings painted by great masters and their choicest works hang upon the walls. Our last visit was to the Garrison Church, where lie the remains of Frederick the Great and of his father, Frederick William I. On their caskets were huge wreaths of myrtle. When Napoleon, after his victories in Prussia, stood before the tomb of the great Emperor, he said, ''Wer&yoii alive /should not be here. ' ' The flags carried in battle adorn the church, and everything breathes of war. Soldiers are everywhere, 2in