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About The Hesperian / (Lincoln, Neb.) 1885-1899 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 1, 1896)
THE HESPERIAN those eyes eyes so full of pain so full of tender love. How their Inst pleadings had loft their undying imago on his soul! And ho listonod onco more with reverential awe to the words that came so slowly: "Yon will bo good and true to Arthur, Jamie. He's so like his father; and you will remem ber 'it is more blessed to give than to re ceive.' Won't you, Jamie?" Yes, he was glad; glad to know she was sleeping in the quietost corner of the old church-yard; glad to know that the only friend who had understood him was sleeping where her tender love could not bo rudely shaken. Had he been good and true to Arthur? "Ah, good Father! It is so hard to always give. Yet 'tis more blessed to give than to receive. She said so, my little 'stranger mother' the one who know mo. God forgive me if I am not 'good and true' to-night; for it is not easy to always give, and I am so cold; and ray heart throbs so 5 agony of shame against the still accusation hidden where ? Not in the faco, it was too peaceful; hidden with the light which no longer lingered in the eyes; for the eyes wore closed forever. Those eyes ! They were so apprehensive; drinking in everything that could bo seen, yet never chiding. Ah, How the living ono learned, in those few moments, to hate the very self which had always received and never given! What had he ever given? Received, received, received! What a song! Someone else used to say "It is more blessed to give than to receive," but alio wont to sleep so quietly years ago that he scarcely remembered when she left. Ho stood there silently, until others came to claim what was theirs; when ho, an intruder, went out doors and walked home homo to a mansion with a brown stone front. Joseph Andrews Sargent. The New Woman. -: Ono morning, some versos appeared on Parkor's page in tho big daily, and nearly everyone road them more than onco. "They wore not grand or sublime;" so said tho one who wrote tho column underneath, but they breathed with tho compassion and tender brothor-lovo which so few had been able to comprehend in tho life of their author. As his last written words, thoy spoke a most fitting eulogy on tho ono who had "gone homo." Arthur Poindoxtor loft his office when ho read the vorsos, and soon was looking down on a faco, majestic in its repose. Someone had laid a bunch of rosos near the faco; but thoy wore not rod; they wor white, liko lilies. Somo little children in thread-bare clothing wero just leaving whon Poindoxtor came. An old lady was crying softly; but she soon loft to go with tho children; and ho hoard her say, "It is moro blessed to givo than to rocoivo." Poindoxtor said nothing; but ho saw the faco as ho had never befQro soon it. His very soui saw that face, and cried out in an I hestitato somewhat to try to say any thing about tho Now Woman. My touch is neither fine enough nor strong enough to do her full justice. Besides, wo are all tired of oven tho mention of tho name. But most thoughtful people will agree that tho popular idoa of her needs to be reformed if not revo lutionized. This idoa has been gained from tho publications that have worn out such subjects as "The Mother-in-Law" and "Is Marriage a Failure? " Probably no two people would quite agree as to tho exact points which characterize tho Now Woman. Very few thoroughly acquainted with her howovorJJ are willing to accept tho ordinary newspaper representation as anything but a vulgar caricature. To say what sho is not is an easy matter. It is somowhat moro difficult to tell what sho is. To begin with tho simpler task then, sho is not tho loud-voiced, swaggering femi nine man, crowding, rampant, and disgust ingly conspicuous, that cheap humorists try to make out. Thoro are too many such people, but tho class existed bofore tho modern New Woman was born. She does not of nocos-
