The Forerunner Part 80

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THE FORERUNNER

A MONTHLY MAGAZINE

BY

CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN AUTHOR, OWNER & PUBLISHER

1.00 A YEAR .10 A COPY

Volume 1. No. 8 JUNE, 1910 Copyright for 1910 C. P. Gilman

Clothing is for five purposes: Decoration, Protection, Warmth, Modesty, and Symbolism. Can you explain yours?

THE PURITAN

"Where is G.o.d?" I cried. "Let me hear!"

"I long for the voice of G.o.d!"

And I smote and trod On all things clamoring near; Small voices dear, That wept and murmured and sung Till my heart was wrung; That shrieked, shrieked loud and clear, As I with hammer and sword Slew them in the name of the Lord.

Where is G.o.d?" I cried. "Let me hear!"

But my ears were ringing yet With cries I could not forget; The blood was flowing still, From the thing I could not kill; A smothered sobbing cry Filled all the red, wet earth, the cold, hard sky-- G.o.d came not near.

Then long I lived alone, On the desolate land; a stone On the thing I could not kill.

I bent to my hardened will All things that lived below; I strove to climb above, To the land of living love I had dreamed of long ago, But I could not see--not know.

"O G.o.d!" I cried, "Come near!

Speak! Let thy servant hear!

Have I not utterly slain With tears of blood, with sweat of pain, In this base heart of mine All voices old and dear--to hear but Thine!

And if there struggleth still The thing I could not kill, Have I not put a stone On its head? O Thou alone Whom I would follow and fear-- Speak! Let Thy servant hear!"

Silent I lay, and weak; Then did the darkness speak; "Child of the World! My love Is beneath as well as above!

Thou art not always led By a light that shines ahead!

But pushed by an impulse blind-- A mighty Power behind!

Lifted, as all things grow, By forces from below!

Fear not for thy long mistake-- Listen! And there shall wake The voice that has found the way From the beginning, upward ever, into the light of day!

Lo! I am with thee still-- The thing thou couldst not kill!

MAKING A LIVING

"There won't be any litigation and chicanery to help you out, young man.

I've fixed that. Here are the t.i.tle deeds of your precious country-place; you can sit in that hand-made hut of yours and make poetry and crazy inventions the rest of your life! The water's good--and I guess you can live on the chestnuts!"

"Yes, sir," said Arnold Blake, rubbing his long chin dubiously. "I guess I can."

His father surveyed him with entire disgust. "If you had wit enough you might rebuild that old saw-mill and make a living off it!"

"Yes, sir," said Arnold again. "I had thought of that."

"You had, had you?" sneered his father. "Thought of it because it rhymed, I bet you! Hill and mill, eh? Hut and nut, trees and breeze, waterfall--beat-'em-all? I'm something of a poet myself, you see!

Well,--there's your property. And with what your Mother left you will buy books and writing paper! As for my property--that's going to Jack.

I've got the papers for that too. Not being an idiot I've saved out enough for myself--no Lear business for mine! Well, boy--I'm sorry you're a fool. But you've got what you seem to like best."

"Yes, sir," said Arnold once more. "I have, and I'm really much obliged to you, Father, for not trying to make me take the business."

Then young John Blake, pattern and image of his father, came into possession of large a.s.sets and began to use them in the only correct way; to increase and multiply without end.

Then old John Blake, gazing with pride on his younger son, whose ac.u.men almost compensated him for the bitter disappointment of being father to a poet; set forth for a season of rest and change.

"I'm going to see the world! I never had time before!" quoth he; and started off for Europe, Asia, and Africa.

Then Arnold Blake, whose eyes were the eyes of a poet, but whose mouth had a touch of resemblance to his father's, betook himself to his Hill.

But the night before they separated, he and his brother both proposed to Ella Sutherland. John because he had made up his mind that it was the proper time for him to marry, and this was the proper woman; and Arnold because he couldn't help it.

John got to work first. He was really very fond of Ella, and made hot love to her. It was a painful surprise to him to be refused. He argued with her. He told her how much he loved her.

"There are others!" said Miss Ella.

He told her how rich he was.

"That isn't the point," said Ella.

He told her how rich he was going to be.

"I'm not for sale!" said Ella, "even on futures!"

Then he got angry and criticised her judgement.

"It's a pity, isn't it," she said, "for me to have such poor judgment--and for you to have to abide by it!"

"I won't take your decision," said John. "You're only a child yet. In two years' time you'll be wiser. I'll ask you again then."

"All right," said Ella. "I'll answer you again then."

John went away, angry, but determined.

Arnold was less categorical.

"I've no right to say a word," he began, and then said it. Mostly he dilated on her beauty and goodness and his overmastering affection for her.