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of the Valley of the Shadow. She tolt me what to do, and I follered
it, and, lo! the meracle was performed; wonderful things was done
unto me!" Here Aunt Dalmanutha - for it was she - supplemented the
embrace with kisses rained upon the head and brow of the trained
nurse.

Extricating herself at last from the strong arms in which she was
lifted from the ground and rocked powerfully back and forth, Miss
Shippen was able to look once more into the face she had failed to
recognize, and from which at least a score of years were now erased.

"Yes, John and Marthy and Evy and t' other seven young uns, take the
look of your life at that 'ere angel messenger that brung me the
good tidings of great joy; that lifted me up out of the pit of
darkness on to the mountain-tops whar I now sojourn. Yes, look, for
in heaven you 'll never see no better sight."

Embarrassed by the open-mouthed family gaze, and by the additional
presence of several teachers, who stopped to see and listen, Miss
Shippen said:

"Tell me all about your trip, Aunt Dalmanutha."

"Tell about it? Tell that which ten thousand tongues could scarce
relate? God knows my stumbling speech hain't equal to the occasion;
but I 'll do my best. You last seed me a-taking my fearsome way to
the railroad; and what were the sinking of my heart when John left
me thar on the cyar, words will never do jestice to; seemed like I
were turnt a-loose in space, rushing I knowed not whither. The
first ground I toch was when I heared the voice of that 'ere doctor
you writ to inquiring for me at the far eend. He said he allowed I
would be skeered and lonesome, so he come hisself to fetch me to the
hospital. Woman, it were the deed of a saint, and holp me up
wonderful'. Then I were put to bed a spell, and soft-footed women
waited on me. Then one morning he tolt me he were aiming to peel
them 'ere ingun-skins off my eyes, and for me to have no fears, but
trust in him; that he believed them eye-nerves, shet back thar in
the dark, was still alive and able to do business. And though my
heart shuck like a ager, I laid down on that table same as a
soldier. When I got up, I were blind as ever, with rags tied thick
around my eyes. And I sot there patient day after day, and the
doctor he 'd drap in and cheer me up. 'Aunt Dally,' he would
say - he claimed he never had no time to git out the Dalmanuthy - 'in
just a leetle while you 'll be a-trotting around the Blue Grass here
worse 'n a race-hoss; but you got to git your training gradual.'
Then he 'd thin the bandages more and more, till a sort of gray
twilight come a-sifting through. 'And don't think,' he would say,
'that I am aiming to let you lope back to them mountains till I git
you plumb made over. Fust thing is a new set of teeth, - you done
gummed yourself into dyspepsy and gineral cantankerousness, - and
then I 'm sot on taking you to my house to visit a month and eat
good victuals and git your stummick opened up whar it done growed
together, and your mind unj'inted, and your sperrits limbered
similar.' And straightway he sont for a tooth-dentist, that tuck a
pictur' of my gums in wax then and thar. Then come the great day
when I looked my fust on a human countenance ag'in. I axed that it
be the doctor's, and I seed him only through black glasses darkly;
but, O God! what a sight it were none but the blind can ever tell!
Then for quite a spell I looked out through them dark glasses at the
comings and goings and people there in the hospital. Then one day
the doctor he run in and says, 'Time for you to look on the
sunlight, Aunt Dally. Keep on them glasses, and wrop a shawl round
you, and come with me. I 'm aiming to show you the prettiest
country God ever made.' Then he holp me into a chariot that run
purely by the might of its own manoeuvers, and I seed tall houses
and chimblys whiz by dimlike, and then atter a while he retch over
and lifted my glasses.

"Women, the tongue of Seraphim hain't competent to tell what I seed
then! That country hain't rugged and on-eend like this here, but is
spread out smooth and soft and keerful, with nary ragged corner
nowhar', and just enough roll to tole the eye along. Thar I, beheld
the wide, green pastures I had heared tell of in Scriptur', thar I
seed still waters, clear as crystal, dotted here and yan, and on
them pastures and by them waters thousands of sleek nags and cattle
a-feeding and drinking, peaceful and satisfied; thar, bowered back
amongst lofty trees, was the beautiful many mansions and homes of
the blest; thar was the big road, smooth and white as glass, down
which pretty boys and gals too fair for this world, come on prancing
nags; thar, best of all, hovering and brooding tender over
everything, was the warm, blue sky and the golden sunlight. Them
alone would have been enough for me. Yes, it were indeed a heavenly
vision. I set, scarcely knowing if I were in or out of the body.
'Am I translated,' I axed the doctor, 'and is this here the New
Jerusalem, and them pretty creeturs the angels of heaven?' 'Far
from it, Aunt Dally,' he says, sighing. 'Them air the fortunate
Blue-Grass folk, that be so used to blessings they don't even know
they got 'em, let alone makin' a' effort to share 'em with the
needy. If they was as onselfish within as they air fair and
prosperous without, we would n't need no millennium.'

"I can't say I had any rale, realizing sense of sight that day. It
were all too wonderful and visionary. And them weeks that follered
at the doctor's house, too, they seem like a love-lie dream - the
delicate victuals that fairly melted down my throat before these
here fine store teeth could clutch 'em, the kindness of him and his
woman, and of his little gal, that teached me my a-b-c's. For she
said, 'With your head-piece, Aunt Dally, it hain't too late for you
to die a scholar yet; you got to git l'arning.' And, women, I got
it. I knowed all my letters and were quite a piece in the primer
before I left, and Evy here she aims to finish my education and have
me reading Scriptur' come summer. Yes, it all seemed too good and
fair to be true, and I lived in a daze. I come to myself
sufficient', though, to have the little gal write John to hire a
wagon and bring Marthy and all the young uns to the railroad for to
meet me, and see the world and the cyars; and also, realizing I were
going to git back my faculty and workingness, and not being able to
make the doctor take ary cent for his doings, - he said it were the
least the Blue Grass could do for the mountains, - I tuck what money
I had left and bought me some fine store clothes for to match my
teeth and my innard feelings. 'Peared like I could n't noway feel
at home in them sorry gyarments I had wore in sorry days.

"But it were not till I sot in the railroad cyars ag'in, and the
level country had crinkled up into hills, and the hills had riz up
into mountains, all a-blazin' out majestical' in the joy of yaller
and scarlet and green and crimson, that I raley got my sight and
knowed I had it. Yes, the Blue Grass is fine and pretty and smooth
and heavenly fair; but the mountains is my nateral and everlastin'
element. They gethered round me at my birth; they bowed down their
proud heads to listen at my first weak cry; they cradled me on their
broad knees; they suckled me at their hard but ginerous breasts.
Whether snow-kivered, or brown, or green, or many-colored, they
never failed to speak great, silent words to me whensoever I lifted
up my eyes to 'em; they still holds in their friendly embrace all
that is dear to me, living or dead; and, women, if I don't see 'em
in heaven, I 'll be lonesome and homesick thar.

"Yes, when I laid eyes on them well-beloved forms, I knowed for sure
I had my sight. And the folks in the cyar they knowed it, too. I
am in gineral one to keep things locked and pinned down inside me;
but for once I let go all holts and turnt a-loose. Then and thar I
bu'sted out into shouts of joy and songs of praise; I magnified the
Lord and all His works; I testified of my salvation from blindness
of body and sperrit; I hollered till natur' went plumb back on me
and I could n't fetch nary 'nother breath.

"Then when I stepped off the train, thar was the living human faces
of my own blood, John and Marthy, and the eight young uns whose
countenances I had never beheld. And as I gazed, women, more scales
drapped from my long-blind eyes. In the face of John here, the boy
I had allus abused for no-git-up and shiftless, I beheld
loving-kindness and onselfishness writ large and fair; looking on
little Evy, I seed love divine in her tender eyes, and light raying
out from her yaller hair and from the other seven smaller head'
bunched around her like cherubim'. And Marthy! Right here, women,
I ax your pardon if I stop a spell, for of a truth words fails me
and tears squenches me. What did I see in that kind, gentle,
patient face of hern? Women, it were the very living sperrit of
Christ hisself I seed thar - the sperrit that returned love for hate,
mercy for revilement, joy and life for curses and death. Yes, when
them eyes of hers was turnt on me so full of love, right thar my
heart broke. I had bemeaned and berated and faulted her so
continual', and belt her up as a pore, doless creetur', without no
backbone or ambition; and now I knowed that if thar ever were a
tender, ginuwine, angel daughter on this here earth, it were her to
me. Women, when she tuck me to her bosom, I just slid right down
thar on 'my unworthy knees thar on the ground at her feet thar, and
with bitter tears beseeched of her to forgive and forgit my
hard-heartedness and stone-blindness and dog-meanness, which of
course, being Marthy, she had already done allus-ago.

"Then, friends, my cup were running over; and as we journeyed up
creeks and down mountains nigh these three days, we was the
nunitedest and joyfullest family that ever follered a trail; and all
the way I laid my plans for to set the farm on its feet ag'in, and
clear new ground, and maul rails for the fence, and rive boards for
the roof, and quairy out rock for a new chimbly, and bring up the
yield of corn, and weed out the eatingest of the cattle, and git my
loom sot up and running so 's to have a-plenty of kivers and linsey
for sale come cold weather; and we all rejoiced amazing, knowing
prosperity wa' n't no further from us than yan side the mountain.

"And now, fellow-sisters, you see before you a ree-surrected woman.
I hain't only got the sight of my eyes; I got mind-sight,
heart-sight, soul-sight. I hain't only got these fine store-teeth
and a tamed and biddable stummick; but the innard power to chaw and
digest speritual truth. I hain't only wearing these gayly, boughten
clothes, I 'm a-fla'nting the robes of joy and the gyarments of
praise. I know the Lord don't hate me and never did; I know I am
free, restored, and saved; I know my Redeemer liveth, and has fotch
me up out of the blackness of darkness on to the top-most peaks of
joy and peace and thanksgiving.

"And don't think, women, - don't never, never think I hain't aiming
to let my light shine! I aim to use my faculty not for worldly
betterment alone, but to turn it loose likewise in the line of
religion and preachifying. Yes, every night this enduring winter
will see me a-s'arching the Scriptur'; and what I can't read I can
ricollect; and come August, when the craps is laid by and the
funeral occasions sets in, I will be ready for 'em. There won't be
one in twenty mile' that won't see me a-coming, and a-taking my
stand by the grave-houses in these reesurrection gyarments, for to
norate the wonders of my experience, and to shame and confound and
drownd out Uncle Joshuay and t'other blind leaders of the blind
whatever they dare raise their gray heads and hoary lies, and
gin'rally to publish abroad, world-without-eend, the ons'archable
riches and glory and power of the love of God."




Afterword

In the heart of the Kentucky mountains, that romantic and
little-known region popularly regarded as the "home of feuds and
moonshine," a rural social settlement, the first in the world, was
begun fifteen years ago under the auspices of the State Federation
of Women's Clubs of Kentucky.

Half a dozen young women from the prosperous Blue-Grass section,
headed by Miss Katherine Pettit and Miss May Stone, went up into the
mountains, several days' journey from a railroad, and, pitching
their tents, spent three successive summers holding singing, sewing,
cooking and kindergarten classes, giving entertainments, visiting
homes, and generally establishing friendly relations with the men,
women, and children of three counties.

One of the many surprises was to find the mountains so thickly
populated, - the regulation family boasting a dozen children, - and
the most inadequate provision made by the State for the education of
these young sons and daughters of heroes. For it is well known that
much of this section was settled originally by men who received
land-grants for their services in the Revolution, and who, with
their families, disappeared into these fastnesses to emerge later
only at their country's call, - the War of 1812, the Mexican, the
Civil, and the Spanish Wars bringing them out in full force, to
display astonishing valor always.

Aware of this ancestry, the visiting women were not surprised to
find much personal dignity, native intelligence, and gentleness of
manner, even among men who conceived it their duty to "kill off"
family enemies, and women who had never had the first chance at
"book-l'arning."

One of the three summers was spent on Troublesome Creek, at the
small village of Hindman, the seat of Knott County. Here the
"citizens" so appreciated the "quare, foreign women" as to be
unwilling to let them depart. "Stay with us and do something for
our young ones, that mostly run wild now, drinking and shooting,"
they said. "We will give you the land to build a school on."

Touched to the heart, seeing the great need, and asking nothing
better than to spend their lives in such a service, Miss Stone and
Miss Pettit went "out into the world" that winter and gave talks in
various cities, by spring raising enough money to start the desired
Settlement School at Hindman.

During a dozen years this remarkable school has grown and prospered,
until more than a hundred children now live in it, and two hundred
more attend day-school.

While its academic work is excellent, special stress is laid upon
the industrial courses, the aim being to fit the children for
successful lives in their own beloved mountains. To this end the
boys are taught agriculture, carpentry, wood and metal work, and the
rudiments of mechanics; the girls cooking, home-nursing, sewing,
laundry work, and weaving, these subjects being learned not only in
classes, but by doing the actual labor of school and farm.

Aside from educational work proper, various forms of social service
are carried on, - district nursing, classes in sanitation and
hygiene, social clubs and entertainments for people of all ages, and
a department of fireside industries, through which is created an
outside market for the beautiful coverlets, blankets and homespun,
woven by the mountain women, as well as for their attractive baskets.

When the children trained in our school go out to teach in the
district schools, they take with them not only what they have
learned in books, but our ideas as to practical living and social
service also, each one becoming a center of influence in a new
neighborhood.

A feature of the work that deserves special mention is the nursing
and hospital department, the ministrations of our trained nurse.
Miss Butler, having done more, possibly, than any other one thing,
not only to spread a knowledge of sanitation and preventive hygiene,
but also to establish confidential and friendly relations with the
people.

The foregoing story, "Sight to the Blind," gives some idea of this
branch of the work, the scope of which has been much extended,
however, during the three years since the story was written for _The
Century Magazine_. In that period the half-dozen clinics held in
the school hospital by Dr. Stucky of Lexington, and his co-workers,
have brought direct surgical and other relief to the afflicted of
four counties. To be present at one of these clinics is to live
Bible days over again, and to see "the lame walk, the deaf hear, the
blind receive their sight, and the poor have the good news preached
to them."

And not only this, - these clinics have demonstrated that nearly
one-half the people examined have trachoma or other serious eye
diseases, and have been the means of awakening the Government to its
responsibility in the matter, so that three government hospitals
have already been started in the mountains for the treatment of
trachoma.

So valuable, in many directions, has been the influence of the
Settlement School, that tracts of land have been offered in a number
of other mountain counties for similar schools; but so far only one,
that at Pine Mountain in Harlan County, has been begun.

An intimate account of life within the Hindman School is given in a
recently published book, "Mothering on Perilous," in which are set
forth the joys - and some of the shocks - experienced by the writer in
mothering the dozen little mountaineers who, in the early days,
shared with her the small boys' cottage. The real name of the
school creek is of course Troublesome, not Perilous.

Alas, nearly a thousand eager, lovable children are turned away
yearly for lack of room and scholarships. The school is supported
by outside contributions, one hundred dollars taking a child through
the year. What better use of money could possibly be made by
patriotic persons and organizations than to open the doors of
opportunity to these little Sons and Daughters of the Revolution?

LUCY FURMAN
HINDMAN SETTLEMENT SCHOOL,
October, 1914.




BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Mothering on Perilous

Decorated cloth, illustrated, 12mo. $1.50 net: postage extra,

This book tells in lively fashion of the experiences of a young
woman who, to escape from grief and loneliness, goes to work in a
settlement school in the heart of the Kentucky mountains.

There she instantaneously "acquires a family" of a dozen small boys
and henceforth finds her life "crammed with human interest." The
ludicrously funny and sometimes pathetic doings of the little,
untamed feudists, moonshiners, and hero worshippers, form the
subject-matter of the tale.

The story centers about one of the boys who has an "active war" in
his family and whose martial adventures with those of his grown-up
brother give a strong appeal to the narrative and furnish an
exciting climax.

"Good luck to this admirably written narrative, a model of direct
and simple humor and very sincere human understanding." - _The
Bellman_.

"Certainly no romance of the Kentucky mountains ever told more that
was amusing, or picturesque, or tragic than her chronicle
does." - _N. Y. Post_.

"Her style is graceful and clear, and her fascinating narrative
cannot fail to widen the horizon of her readers in more ways than
one." - _N. Y. Times_.

"A charming story and it is well told." - _Christian Advocate_.

"A story full of humor and pathos." - _Chicago Evening Post_.

"The book forms a valuable link between an interesting and isolated
people and the reading public." - _San Francisco Chronicle_.



NEW MACMILLAN FICTION


Saturday's Child

By KATHLEEN NORRIS, Author of "Mother," "The Treasure," etc. With
frontispiece in colors by F. Graham Cootes. Decorated cloth, 12mo.
$1.50 net.

"Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child must work for her living."

The title of Mrs. Norris' new novel at once indicates its theme. It
is the life story of a girl who has her own way to make in the
world. The various experiences through which she passes, the
various viewpoints which she holds until she comes finally to
realize that service for others is the only thins that counts, are
told with that same intimate knowledge of character, that healthy
optimism and the belief in the ultimate goodness of mankind that
have distinguished all of this author's writing. The book is
intensely alive with human emotions. The reader is bound to
sympathize with Mrs. Norris' people because they seem like _real_
people and because they are actuated by motives which one is able to
understand. _Saturday's Child_ is Mrs. Norris' longest work. Into
it has gone the very best of her creative talent. It is a volume
which the many admirers of _Mother_ will gladly accept.



The Game of Life and Death: Stories of the Sea

By LINCOLN COLCORD, Author of "The Drifting Diamond," etc. With
frontispiece. Decorated cloth, 12mo. $1.25 net.

Upon the appearance of Mr. Colcord's _The Drifting Diamond_, critics
throughout the country had a great deal to say on the pictures of
the sea which it contained. Mr. Colcord was compared to Conrad, to
Stevenson, and to others who have written of the sea with much
success. It is gratifying, therefore, that in this book the briny
deep furnishes the background - in some instances the plot
itself - for each one of its eleven tales. Coupled with his own
intimate knowledge and appreciation of the oceans and the life that
is lived on them - a knowledge and appreciation born in him through a
long line of seafaring ancestry and fostered by his own love for the
sea - he has a powerful style of writing. Vividness is perhaps its
distinguishing characteristic, though fluency and a peculiar feeling
for words also mark it.



The Mutiny of the Elsinore

By JACK LONDON, Author of "The Sea Wolf," "The Call of the Wild,"
etc. With frontispiece in colors by Anton Fischer. Cloth, 12mo.
$1.35 net.

Everyone who remembers _The Sea Wolf_ with pleasure will enjoy this
vigorous narrative of a voyage from New York around Cape Horn in a
large sailing vessel. _The Mutiny of the Elsinore_ is the same kind
of tale as its famous predecessor, and by those who have read it, it
is pronounced even more stirring. Mr. London is here writing of
scenes and types of people with which he is very familiar, the sea
and ships and those who live in ships. In addition to the adventure
element, of which there is an abundance of the usual London kind, a
most satisfying kind it is, too, there is a thread of romance
involving a wealthy, tired young man who takes the trip on the
_Elsinore_ and the captain's daughter. The play of incident, on the
one hand the ship's amazing crew and on the other the lovers, gives
a story in which the interest never lags and which demonstrates anew
what a master of his art Mr. London is.



Neighbors: Life Stories of the Other Half

By JACOB A. RIIS, Author of "How the Other Half Lives," etc. With
illustrations by W. T. Benda. Decorated cloth, 12mo. $1.25 net.

One of the most remarkable books ever written is Jacob Riis' _How
the Other Half Lives_. At the time of its appearance it created
nothing short of a literary sensation, and it is still found among
the widely read and discussed publications. The present volume is a
continuation or an elaboration of that work. In it Mr. Riis tells
with that charm which is peculiarly his own and with a wonderful
fidelity to life, little human interest stories of the people of the
"other half." He has taken incidents in their daily lives and has
so set them before the reader that there is gained a new and a real
insight into the existence of a class which is, with each year,
making its presence felt more and more in the nation. These tales,
though in the garb of fiction, are true. "I could not have invented
them had I tried; I should not have tried if I could," Mr. Riis
tells us in a prefatory note.



The Wife of Sir Isaac Harman

By H. G. WELLS. Cloth, 12mo. $1.50 net.

The name of H. G. Wells upon a title page is an assurance of merit.
It is a guarantee that on the pages which follow will be found an
absorbing story told with master skill. In the present hook Mr.
Wells surpasses even his previous efforts. He is writing of modern
society life, particularly of one very charming young woman, Lady
Harman, who finds herself so bound in by convention, so hampered by
restrictions, largely those of a well-intentioned but short-sighted
husband, that she is ultimately moved to revolt. The real meaning
of this revolt, its effect upon her life and those of her
associates, are narrated by one who goes beneath the surface in his
analysis of human motives. In the group of characters, writers,


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