Five years have passed since the dedication of that beautiful home;
years that have brought their changes; as time invariably does. The
mystic rooms—the sanctum of the expectant mother—have been occupied,
again and yet again. Our royal Margaret was the first to come under the
spell of its sweet and wonderful influence. Giving herself up to the
delightful occupations provided for in these secluded rooms, keeping
ever in mind the grand result which was to come of it, one morning after
a night of pain and suspense Wilbur kissed a fine, beautiful, healthy
boy that was laid in his arms. Kneeling at her side with his head
resting on the same pillow with the fair white face of his peerless
Margaret the whisper greeted his ear:
“I am blessed today beyond the measure of women.”
Who shall say that his happiness did not equal her own.
Another had not been long in following her brave example. When Cora’s
baby girl was laid upon her breast Owen’s measure of happiness was
filled and tears blinded his eyes as he kissed the mother of his child.
The two sisters, Edith and Hilda, both brought joy and happiness to
their lovers’ hearts by presenting them with miniature reflections of
themselves, and Norman had held Imelda’s boy to his heart.
By this time the babies that first came to the new home were making glad
the hearts of their mothers by their childish prattle; some of the
mothers were watching the first trembling footsteps, and now Alice was
waiting, watching for the coming hour. Milton watched with worshipful
tenderness the little fairy whose love was life to him.
New faces also now greet us. New comers have helped to fill the precious
home, who were just as good and worthy as those whose fortunes we have
so long followed.
But to return to the young mothers. They did not devote all their time
to their darling babies. O, no! Dearly as they loved them they found
that they had other work to do while the little ones were left to the
care of those who were perfectly trustworthy, Not to be petted, not to
be pampered and spoiled, but left to those who understood how to get to
the depths of each baby nature.
When it is remembered what preparation had been made for their advent it
is not surprising that they were wonderfully good babies. When it is
remembered with what joy they were welcomed—welcomed while still in the
first stages of foetal growth; how carefully the prospective mothers had
been kept under calm, sweet and pure influences; how their minds had
been kept active without taxing their strength; how constantly their
souls had been bathed in the luxury of sympathy and love; how every part
of their natures had been kept teeming with life—overflowing life; how
carefully undue excitement had been warded off; how they were given
every opportunity for cultivating the higher instincts,—the spiritual
nature;—when all this is remembered we cannot help seeing that, on the
principle of natural causation, the children of such mothers and of such
influences could not be other than exceptionally well endowed and
exceptionally well behaved.
But when the months had passed, during which the mother should give her
personal care and attention to her cherished babe, it was transferred to
the sole care of the experienced nurse, and she herself returned to her
usual work, whatever that work might happen to be. There were so many
fields open, and each made her choice. The head gardener was glad to get
help in the tending and nursing of his plants and flowers. Nimble,
dextrous fingers were needed to fashion the garments to be worn by the
occupants of the home, and this large and beautiful home needed many
willing hands to keep it beautiful. All this however was work which
could be entrusted to and performed by stronger hands, if other work
should prove more attractive, work in which more than ordinary
intelligence and skill were required. Among our band were teachers of
music and song, as might be expected of the artist soul seeking
expression. Margaret had kissed her lover and baby good bye and had
given another season to her loved profession, and had returned again
with, O, such longing and love for the home and the circle of loved ones
it contained.
But there was other work. The forty minutes required to reach the heart
of the city were used by quite a number, morning and evening. In the
heart of the city rose a grand emporium many stories high, where many
hundreds of young women and men were employed, and which was the
property of the home circle; an emporium which had been built by Norman
and Lawrence and fitted up by Owen, and which was one of the largest
business places in the great city; an emporium where people of all ages
and sizes could purchase for themselves an outfit from the crown of
their heads to the soles of their feet. There was the tailor’s
department and that of the dressmaker. There the milliner fashioned
pretty headgear, and there all the beautiful artificial flowers, of
which countless numbers were used from week to week were made. There the
visitor would go from floor to floor, from department to department, and
would find every place to have its own attraction, its own work.
But the most beautiful department of them all was that of the florist,
where nature’s handiwork was heaped up in wild and charming confusion,
and where these floral beauties, by deft and cunning fingers, were
arranged into designs without number, and in this department it was that
you could see our own fair girls moving about, giving orders here,
lending aid there, and again seeing that patrons were promptly served.
All was life, all were busy, yet none were overworked, as none worked
longer than five hours here. At seven o’clock in the morning when the
doors were opened, they admitted what was termed the morning “turn.” And
when twelve o’clock announced the noon hour the merry throng, laughing
and singing arrayed themselves for the street and went trooping out like
a merry flock of birds, for their day of work was over. It was a day’s
work, and thus they were paid. With the striking of the hour of one, the
afternoon “turn” began, and others filled the places of the morning
workers. So the faces of the saleswomen and salesmen were always fresh
and smiling, with none of that tired, wornout appearance that is so
often noticeable in the young faces you meet behind the counter.
Where were all these employes housed? Heretofore as these people
generally are housed. Those who still had a father or mother or both
living, lived with them; in most cases large families crowded into two
or three rooms. Others who were not so fortunate, had to submit to all
the discomforts of cheap boarding houses, or lived in some stuffy back
room or bleak attic. But a change was about to take place. Today the
large business building is closed. No one moves about its wide halls and
its many departments. It is a grand “fete” and gala day. Today is to be
dedicated the grand new home which has been erected for them.
* * * * *
After two years of life in their co-operative home its inmates were
convinced of its success and felt almost like thieves that they should
enjoy so many privileges which were beyond the reach of those to whom
they gave employment, and then the plans were made for a new home, and
again Owen’s millions did service and now a beautiful and grand
structure had been erected. But not so far-away from the place of work
as their own. That would have been cruelty to the morning “turn” who
were expected to be at their post at the hour of seven, and equally
unpleasant for the afternoon “turn” as it would cause them to be late
for their evening meal.
Right on the outskirts of the city, where fifteen minutes would be all
that would be required to bring them back and forth, a site was bought
upon the brink of the beautiful river, elevated just enough to be beyond
the reach of any possible flood. A park had been laid out which in time
would be one of the handsomest the city could boast of, with its
miniature lakes, its splashing fountains, its dense shrubbery, its
gleaming statuary and flowery banks. And right in the midst of these
beautiful surroundings this monster home was built. For three long years
the workmen toiled, until when finished it was the finest of its kind
that fancy could depict. A place where home pleasures would be given the
workers, such as they had never known; where every arrangement had been
made to amuse, to instruct, to educate, to develop the inmates. It
boasted of its school rooms, its college, its sculpture hall and
artist’s studio, its lecture hall and theater, for which the best of
traveling troupes were to be engaged, with perfect arrangements for the
accommodation of those troupes. Here the players would not have to
undergo the extra fatigue, after their tiresome work, to again dress for
the street, catch the last cold car which was to take them to their
place of lodging. No, indeed! The theater of the workers’ home was a
marvel of its kind. Large, airy, comfortable and well furnished rooms
were attached to it, a room to every player, so near and convenient to
the stage that it was not necessary to dress in little boxes or holes
for their work. Here they could dress in quiet and comfort and then rest
until the signal to begin was given.
When through with their work, in the pleasant, comfortable dining room
connected with the theater for the convenience of this hard-working
class of people—how hard-working few, not of the profession, ever
realize—a simple but refreshing repast was served, which repast was so
restful and had so much of real comfort in it that the traveling bands
invariably forgot that intoxicants were absent from it.
Then there was a library with its thousands of volumes containing
reading matter of every kind, but always choice, always select, always
instructive. A large billiard room was also there. Then came the
gymnasium for the development of physical strength and where both sexes
were expected to participate. There was to be a singing class and
dancing school.
The baths were not forgotten. Larger, more complete than at the first
home—so many more were to make use of them here.
All arrangements were complete. A large, airy hall where breakfast and
the mid-day meal were to be served. But here, as in that other home, the
evening meal, which would be the chief meal of the day, was to be taken
amidst nature’s beauties in a large and beautiful conservatory. Owen had
spent a fortune in furnishing it with the required plants which were of
the rarest kinds. A miniature lake was formed in its center, wherein the
little golden speckled beauties were dashing and splashing about in
their merry chase. A fountain was reared in its center composed of half
a dozen nude mermaids holding their hands aloft, their finger tips
forming a circle from which the water was flung aloft in showering
spray. Sweet voiced songsters filled the air with their thrilling music.
Flowers bloomed in wild profusion; huge vases were filled with their
brilliant treasures wherever they could be suitably placed.
At several places small artificial hills had been erected, ferns and
grasses growing amidst the rocks. Through a small rocky ravine the water
came tumbling into a basin below, forming a small lake. Palms, cactus
and other plants were grouped at convenient places. Nooks and alcoves
without number had been arranged wherein the tables had been placed and
were now spread and awaiting the hungry guests, each table seating about
a dozen and through it all rare, sweet music, coming from some hidden
source lulled the tired senses to rest and quiet.
The last preparations had been made. The last garlands had been hung. To
every room its inmate had been assigned, which promised them all the
same sweet privacy when privacy was desired, as in the first and smaller
home. Every room was furnished cozily and comfortably, and every inmate,
if so they desired, could claim some musical instrument for their
private use, besides which there was a music hall where first class
musical instruments of all kinds abounded. A number of the best teachers
had been engaged to supervise the different departments, to teach and
bring to light the hidden talents that none might be lost, but all shine
in their full glory.
The grounds were something wonderful, or in time would be so, when the
years would have done their work. The drives were beautiful, so wide and
clean. Ponds covered with waterlilies. Fountains everywhere. Lover’s
nooks and cozy retreats. Plants, shrubbery and flowers in glorious
profusion, and artistic designs wherever the eye might rest. Down the
sloping banks of the river wide, spacious stairways of hewn stone had
been made which led down beneath the laving waters. Skiffs, large and
small were moored here, inviting and wooing lovers of the watery element
to trust themselves to its glassy bosom, to be rocked on its silvery,
rippling waves and be borne whithersoever they might wish.
Owen had made a deep hole in his millions. Lack of funds should not
prevent success. And now the new inmates of this wonderful home were
waiting the summons to their first evening meal. All the “salons” of the
lower floors were swarming with gayly dressed maidens and with young men
attired in their best. Instinctively they knew that henceforth they must
always put their best efforts to the front, and the blending of youthful
voices in merry laughter made the listener glad.
But not all were young that were assembled here tonight. Many there were
who had seen the darker side of life and who in all probability would
prefer the solitude and quiet of their own rooms to the noisy
merry-making of a careless and care-free youth.
And among all those who found a home within the walls of this
magnificent structure those had not been forgotten whose labor had
produced it, had made it the thing of beauty it now stood. As might be
expected the builders had grown to love it as they worked, and the
knowledge that they should enjoy its beauties and comforts when finished
had stimulated them to work more eagerly and with extra skill until the
day of its completion.
But now all are ready. At last the signal is given, the doors are flung
wide, and just as the music of a brass band clashes through the
resounding halls, playing a march from one of the master composers, the
workers, all the workers, pour into the monster conservatory.
They thought it was fairy land opened to their view, floating in a sea
of light. Among the rest we see the members of our own circle, scattered
about here and there, every face radiant with happiness reflected from
within.
No waiters are in attendance. At every table one of the fresh young
maidens plays the part of hostess. On a smaller table near at hand, all
the side dishes have been arranged. Tanks with new sweet milk, ice water
and hot water; nothing that is likely to be desired has been forgotten
or omitted. The next evening another of the young ladies will be
detailed to preside.
When supper is over the tables are let remain as they are. The day’s
work is over. In the morning many busy hands will restore order, and by
noon everything will again shine with tasteful beauty; the tables reset,
fresh flowers filling all the vases, and the dishes awaiting refilling.
After they have all steeped their senses in the beauties of the
surroundings and have satisfied the cravings of appetite the evening’s
pleasures begin. Music, song and tableaux have been arranged with
exquisite skill. Cora’s voice has lost none of its richness, none of its
charms. On the contrary it is more flexible, more sweet and full, more
perfect in every respect, and well it may be. Has she not spent two
years in hard study after they came to the home, in making herself
perfect in her art? At many a concert, during these years, has her
sweet, thrilling voice been heard, and tonight she almost outdoes
herself. She is perfectly happy and throws her whole soul into her work;
deafening applause rewards her.
Margaret’s rendition of “Deborah” meets with equal favor. She never
fails to please.
Then follows some renditions of music wherein Imelda and Milton both
excel, for they too have been spending time in developing their precious
talents.
The evening’s entertainment then concludes with a series of tableaux,
three in number, entitled “Progress,” which are received with storms of
applause. They represent “The Past, the Present and the Future.”
There is one feature that has not been announced upon the program. One
whom we have almost forgotten to mention has opened the evening’s
festivities with a short address, dwelling on the object, the aim, the
hopes that are to follow the evening’s work. That one is an old time
friend, probably forgotten by most of our readers. It is an old,
white-haired gentleman with a well preserved air about him. It is the
Mr. Roland, of the lecture room of the olden days and the fatherly
friend of our Margaret and Imelda, and who is followed by another almost
forgotten friend, the lecturer “Althea Wood.”
When the curtain has dropped on the last tableaux the assembled audience
refuses to be satisfied. They well know whose money has erected the
palatial building and “Owen Hunter! Owen Hunter!” is now the cry. In
response to this call Owen steps upon the stage and in a slow, graceful
manner saunters up to the footlights. Waiting for the stormy welcome to
subside, then in slow even tones he begins:
“Friends and comrades! You do me far too great honor in thus calling me
to the front. What you term an act of greatness is simply one of
justice. No merit is due to me that I control millions of dollars while
millions of my fellow human beings this night are starving. My early
years were droned away in luxury, ease and pleasure hunting, and in all
probability I would have gone on thus to the end had not circumstances
given me a shaking up, thereby showing me something of the darker side
of life.
“What these circumstances were, what the means by which the awakening
was brought about I cannot here tell you. The story would be too long.
But I awoke to a sense of the fact that I was of no use whatever in the
world. With the aid of minds superior to mine a home was planned, one
for a small number of congenial friends who wished to try co-operation,
and having proved it a success, this one for the busy bees of our great
industrial hive was next planned.
“You have, until now, been the employes of the ‘Home Company.’ From this
day forth you are partners therein. You will receive your salaries just
the same as heretofore. At the end of the year the accounts will be
squared and a dividend declared with which you are to pay your rent,
so-called, for your home, but which in reality you are buying. For when
you have paid rent amounting to the sum it has cost to erect this
building, you will be the owners of it, not I. Moreover, you shall not
be taxed with a shameless interest, and when your home is paid for and
the original capital again garnered in, there will be countless other
employes who are in need of a home like this, and which it will devolve
upon us to erect. Do you see?”
And see they do! Such deafening shouts of applause never before filled a
hall. It is a perfect uproar and it takes some time ere quiet can again
be restored. Owen smilingly shakes his head——
“You do me too much honor, as I have before remarked. Believe me, you
have much more reason to thank the bright minds and gentle hearts of the
ladies of the ‘Home’ than—
“Three cheers for the ladies!”—someone shouted, and three rousing cheers
were given, and then three more, and yet again three.
Owen sees that they are getting excited, and that he will have but
little chance to say more, so he determines to end it at once.
“That is all, comrades. With the best of wishes for the future well
being of your home, and with the sincerest hopes for the happiness of
each of you I bid you good night—as I see it written on many bright,
young faces that their restless feet are anxious for the dance to
begin.”
Another deafening round of applause follows. They would recall him but
Owen will not respond.
The crash of music is then heard, sending forth its inviting strains,
and soon the light footsteps trip to the measured chimes and the hours
speed in happy merriment.
With such surroundings, such inducements, it will not be difficult to
keep the young maidens fresh, healthy and pure-minded, and to keep the
young men away from the influence of drink, of vice, of demoralization.
No danger that they will unsex themselves through starvation of their
sex natures. The needed magnetism is theirs through their constant
mingling, and while this is only the beginning, while they have so much
yet to learn, there is every hope, every evidence that the home will
develop fine, healthy and intelligent women, strong, brave and noble
men.
Already Owen has another home planned, to be situated farther out into
the open country. “Products of the soil” will furnish the chief
employment of this group of workers. Not all men and women prefer the
bustling city life. There are many who cannot live and enjoy life away
from nature. They would pine for the open air, the green fields, the
cool shade of the woods. Only under the blue vault of heaven can
happiness come to them. And for such as these also it is the desire of
our friends to secure the advantages that only the co-operative home can
supply. Owen is determined to show that his millions have not been
vainly entrusted to his care, and that the advantages that wealth can
procure shall be theirs to whom the wealth justly belongs—the producers.
Here we must leave the inmates of the just completed and dedicated home,
on the threshold of their new life, and take one more farewell word to
our friends of the “F. L.” home—the children of my fancy, who have grown
under my care, and who have become inexpressibly dear to me.
CONCLUSION.
The evening meal is over. All have gathered on the broad veranda to
watch the golden sunset as it dips its slanting rays in the river
beyond. They are unusually quiet, even for this serious band. Last
night’s merry-making has made them just a little tired, besides which
their hearts are full of unuttered prayers for the future success of
that new home.
Mrs. Leland is sitting in the comfortable depths of an easy chair. A
sturdy little man of four summers perches upon her knee, patting
grandma’s cheek, tossing her hair in his efforts to smooth it, taking
her face between both chubby hands and drawing her head forward so that
he can kiss her happy, smiling lips and altogether making love in the
most approved child fashion.
Margaret is sitting at her feet, her arm thrown across her mother’s
knee, while her eyes with a happy, tender light follow the movements of
her boy, and her heart swells with fond tenderness and pride at the
knowledge that he is her very own.
At grandma’s back stands Wilbur whose eyes also follow the antics of the
boy when they for a few moments lose sight of the glorious sunset.
Mr. Roland is a visitor at the home tonight, and sits a little to the
right of this group, quietly drinking in the scene before him in the
pauses of the animated conversation he is carrying on with the brilliant
little lecturer, Althea Wood, who also is a guest at the home tonight.
Farther to the left are various groups. The two pairs of sisters—Imelda
and Cora, Edith and Hilda—have formed a circle, their babies forming the
center of their attention. There are little prattlers while one sweet
little cooing innocent lies close to Imelda’s breast.
O, the joys of young motherhood! And the group of men that were standing
a little apart felt the influence of the spell and each thought his
sweetheart had never looked more fair.
Alice in delicate health was reclining in an easy chair while Milton
with adoring eyes stood over her chair ready to do her slightest
bidding. O, if she were only safely tided over the coming hour of trial!
And as the sigh escapes him his hand caressingly toys with the bright
mass of shining hair.
Lawrence has his Norma perched upon his knee answering her many
questions. She has grown to be quite a big girl now, but has never
outgrown her early love for her papa, and ever with the old delight
greets his coming. The two are so near to Alice that she can comfortably
watch them, and while a smile of proud tenderness wreathes her lips, it
is Milton’s hand to which they are laid.
“My baby!” She whispered the tender words.
“A little longer patience,” is Milton’s whispered reply, “and your baby
will be your own!”
Her hand went up to his face with a caressing touch.
“I know,” she smilingly said, “but it was Norma I meant this time.”
He drew the hand to his lips as with a knowing smile he answered,
“Ah, I see!”
Lawrence now and then let his eyes wander to the mother of his child,
then they would turn to the group of fair young women where a pair of
sweet gray eyes met his in a tender glance, then to rest on the little
one reclining against his bosom. Which did he love most? His eyes lit up
with a glad tenderness as they rested on the little one and then he drew
the fair curly head so near him, close to his heart and hid his face in
the fluffy masses; could he himself answer the question?
Many other faces we see which are all new to us, but they are all men
and women worthy to be called by these names.
A group of the younger people have strayed down to the sweet-scented
gardens gathering flowers as they go. Osmond and Homer are fast friends.
Both are young men untouched by the rough hand of fate. Their young
manhood, so perfect in its strength and beauty giving them the
appearance of young kings, so proud, so lofty, was their bearing. Elmer,
too, could scarcely be termed a boy any longer. His twenty years sat
well on his broad shoulders and the eyes of the fifteen year old Meta
shone bright as stars, her cheeks flushed as he chased her through the
winding mazes of the park, and when he had caught her and kissed the
rosy lips she submitted as a matter of course with the most natural
grace.
Osmond had thrown himself at the feet of Hattie Wallace whose nineteen
summers sat lightly on her shoulders. She was such a fairy and with rosy
hued cheeks she listened to the soft, love-freighted words that fell in
whispers from Osmond’s lips.
Homer’s companion was a dark, soft-eyed young girl timid and shy who had
been an inmate of the home for one year, where she had come with her
mother who had fled in the dead of night from her husband and sought
refuge in this haven of rest, and Homer was teaching the sweet Katie her
first experience in the mysteries of love.
Aleda, the youngest of the Wallace girls was also there, and seventeen
years had developed a truly pretty and healthy girl from the delicate
querulous child. Another new comer had engaged her attention. Reading
from a volume of Tennyson, a boy scarce older than herself was reclining
at her feet. He too had been brought there by a mother, not one who had
fled the cruelties of an unappreciative husband, as she had never
applied the title to any man. He had been a child of love.
His mother, in the wild sweet delirium of a first love, had abandoned
herself to her artist lover without a thought of right or wrong. And he,
pure and noble had no thought of wronging her. But disease had early
marked him for its own, and ere the child of his Wilma had seen the
light of day his own life had closed in that sleep that knows no waking,
and she was left alone to buffet the storms of life as best she could,
an orphan and without friends. With a babe in her arms, of “illegal”
origin, the path of her life had not been strewn with roses. But amidst
all her privations and trials she had kept her love pure for her child
and had fostered only instincts pure and holy in the young mind, and
when she heard of the home she applied at its gates, telling her story
in pure, unvarnished words, never dreaming of an effort to hide any of
her past. Only by the light of truth could the delicate fair woman
thread her path through the world.
As might be expected, she had been received with open arms. Wilma, the
mother of Horace, our young poet, and Honora, Katie’s mother, could now
be seen as they stand arm in arm watching the golden sunset and the
children whose future promises to bring with it less of the pain that
has so early drawn silver threads through their own brown locks.
The world at large knew not the full meaning of this home as yet. The
world is yet too completely steeped in superstition and ignorance to
have permitted its existence had the full meaning been known. The
“Hunter Co-operative Home” it had been called, and thus it was known to
the world. It was known that babes had made their advent therein, but
none but the initiated knew that marriage as an institution was banished
from its encircling walls.
Would you ask us if happiness was so unalloyed within those walls that
no pangs of regret or of pain could enter there? Well, no! We are not so
foolish as to make such claim. There are hours of temptation; there are
moments of forgetfulness; there are sometimes swift, keen, torturing
pangs that nothing earthly can completely shut out. Our heroes and
heroines are not angels. They are—when the very best of them has been
said—only intelligent, sensible and sensitive men and women—but men and
women who are possessed of high ideals and who are striving hard to
reach and practicalize them. They live in a world of thought. They do
nothing blindly, inconsiderately; their every action is done with eyes
wide open. In trying to gain the goal they have set themselves to reach,
they strive not to think of self alone. The future of those who have
been entrusted to their care, the young lives their love has called into
existence, exacts from them much of self-denial. They are
individualists, yet not so absolutely such that they do not realize that
sometimes the ego must be held in check so as not to rob another of his,
or her birthright.
You ask again, “Does this home life, as you have pictured insure against
the possibility of the affections changing?”
And again we answer, No! Certainly not. Such changes will and must come.
Yet it is not to be expected that where there is liberty, in the fullest
sense of the word, life will be a constant wooing? Is it not the lack of
liberty that deals the death blow to many a happy, many a once happy
home? to many a home that was founded in the sweetest of hopes, the
brightest of prospects, only to be shattered and wrecked in a few short
years? aye, even a few short months or weeks? And when such a change
does come, in spite of all efforts to prevent, how great a thing it must
be to know yourself free! free to embrace the new love without the
horrible stigma of “shame!” as our modern society now brands it, and
which stigma causes such unspeakable misery, such endless suffering.
And if a woman desires to repeat the experience of motherhood, why
should it be wrong when she selects another to be the father of her,
instead of the one who has once performed this office for her? Why
should the act be less pure when she bestows a second love, when the
object of this second love is just as true, just as noble, just as
pure-minded as was the first one? Why should an act be considered a
crime with one partner which had been fully justified with another?
Reader, judge me not hastily. Judge not my ideas, my ideals, without
having first made a careful study of life as you find it around you. My
words are backed by personal experience and observation, experience as
bitter as any that has been herein recorded. Indeed I doubt if I should,
or could, ever have given birth to the thoughts expressed in these pages
had it not been for that experience—which is one of a thousand—and when
you have carefully weighed my words, think of the good that must result
to future generations when unions are purely spontaneous, saying nothing
of the increase of happiness to those who are permitted thus to choose,
and to live.
* * * * *
When, O, when will the great mass of humanity learn and realize that in
enforced motherhood, unwelcome motherhood, is to be found the chief
cause of the degradation that gives birth to human woe. When will they
see that unwelcome motherhood is the curse resting upon and crushing out
the life energies of woman; while on the other hand, the consciousness
of being the mother of a desired babe, a child conceived in a happy, a
loving embrace, needs no other blessing, no other sanction, no other
license, than such act itself bestows.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
List of Radical Literature
Anarchy, Economics of. A Study of the Industrial Type. By Dyer D.
Lum. Paper; 60 pages. (Scarce). .25
Autonomy. Self-Law; What are its Demands? A fragmentary
exposition of the basic principles of individualism in its
relation to society and government. By Moses Harman. This
pamphlet of 29 uncut pages contains an account of the
autonomistic marriage of Lillian Harman and Edwin C. Walker,
and their subsequent arrest, trial and imprisonment. The
pamphlets are not up to the standard in typography and press
work, but they contain data valuable to all lovers of personal
liberty. .05
Bar Sinister and Licit Love. By Oswald Dawson. Contains first
biennial proceedings of the Legitimation League (1895) with
full page half-tone pictures of Lillian Harman, Edith
Lanchester, J. Greevz Fisher and J. C. Spence. Bound in boards,
with handsome cover in green, black and gold. 300 pages, .25
Be Thyself. A Discourse by William Denton. Paper, 33 pages. 1882
(scarce). .05
Bombs, The Poetry and Philosophy of Anarchy. By William A.
Whittick. With full page portrait of the author; paper; nearly
200 pages, .30
Creed of Liberty. A brief exposition of philosophical anarchism,
by William Gilmour, London. Paper, 11 pages. .02
Catechism on the Science of a Universal Religion, or What We Can
and Must Do in Co-operation to Secure a True Religion of
Universal Happiness, by Gabriel Z. Wacht. 1890; 117 pages;
paper, 7c; cloth, .15
Causes of Hard Times and The Money Question, by Albert Chavannes.
1893; paper, 24 pages, .05
Co-operative Congress, Kansas, Proceeding of. Held at Topeka in
April, 1886. 118 pages; paper, .12
Co-Operation, Practical. A series of short articles by E. C.
Walker. Paper; 18 pages, .05
Commonwealth, The Future, or What Samuel Balcom saw in Socioland.
By A. Chavannes, 1892; paper, 114 pages, .25
Common Sense Thoughts on the Bible for Common Sense People. By
William Denton. Seventh edition, enlarged and revised;
thirty-eighth thousand, .10
Cityless and Countryless World; an Outline of Practical
Co-Operative Individualism. By Henry Olerich. Regarded by many
persons as a more interesting and consistent economic reform
novel than Bellamy’s “Looking Backward.” Bound in red silk with
gold title. Nearly 450 pages, $ 1.00
Dawn of Civilization, or England in the Nineteenth Century. A
Radical Social Reform novel by J. C. Spence, formerly a
vice-president of the Legitimation League. Handsomely bound in
boards, blue and gold cover, with full page portrait of the
author; 176 pages, .25
Divorce. A review of the subject from a scientific standpoint in
answer to Mgr. Capel, Rev. Dr. Dix, The New England Divorce
Reform League and others who desire more stringent divorce
laws, by Edward B. Foote, M. D., author of “Plain Home Talk.”
1884; 60 pages; cloth, .25
Digging for Bed Rock, Observations and Experiences. By Moses
Harman. 1890; paper, 24 pages, .05
Diana, A Psycho-Physiological Essay on Sexual Relations. For
married men and women. Sixth edition. Revised and Improved.
Paper, 60 pages, .25
Gospel Fabricators, or a Glance at the Character of Men who
Helped to Form the Four Gospels. By W.S. Bell. Paper; 44 pages, .15
Government Analyzed. By John R. Kelso, A.M. This book seeks to
show that all governments, like all gods, are the mere
personifications of mythical monsters invented by selfish and
crafty men as instruments with which to rob and enslave the
ignorant toiling masses. A book which is sure to open the eyes
of governmentalists who read it. Bound in cloth; 520 pages;
edition limited; original price, $1.50. Our price, .90
Human Rights. By Madison Hook, with an Introduction by E. C.
Walker. 1891; paper, 19 pages, .05
How to Prevent and Cure Colds, Hay Fever, La Grippe, without
medicine or drugs. By Harriet C. Garner. A valuable little
pamphlet formerly sold for $1. .10
Health and Longevity without the Use of Drugs. By James Russell
Price, M. D., Professor of Hygiene, and T. Julian, M. D.,
author of “Nervous Diseases and Their Treatment,” Cloth, .50
Devil, The Angel of Light. How he beat the Salvation Army in two
trials and secured $75,000 judgment against it. Paper, 16
pages, .05
Eight Hour Movement, Lecture delivered by Judge John P. Altgeld
(afterwards governor of Illinois) before the Brotherhood of
United Labor in Chicago, Feb. 22, 1890; paper; 16 pages
(scarce), .10
How to Live a Century. By Juliet H. Severance, M. D. 1891; paper;
30 pages, .10
Horrors of Modern Matrimony as Viewed from a Moral and Sanitary
Standpoint. A solemn protest against the present demoralizing
management of that institution. By Dr. R. Greer. Paper, .15
Helen Harlow’s Vow, a radical sex reform novel by Lois
Waisbrooker, paper cover, .25
In Brighter Climes, or Life in Socioland. A realistic novel by
Albert Chavannes, author of “The Future Commonwealth,” “Vital
Force,” etc. Paper, 254 pages; 1895. .25
In Hell and the Way Out. A Non-Partisan Political Handbook. A
Comparative Study of Present Conditions and a Plan of Social
Democracy outlined. Inscribed to the Farmers and Trades
Unionists of America by one of their number. Advocates the
Initiative and Referendum. By Henry E. Allen Paper, 64 pages. .10
Isabel’s Intention. A story by Mariette, dealing with the social
evil in a new and radical way. London edition. Paper, 30 pages,
5 cents. Original edition published in “Our New Humanity,”
together with other valuable essays of social problems, .25
Is Spiritualism True? By William Denton, 1888; paper, 43 pages, .10
Jefferson, Thomas; Father of American Democracy. His political,
social and religious philosophy. By Gen. M. M. Trumbull. Paper,
29 pages, .10
Legitimation, Outcome of. A lecture by Oswald Dawson, delivered
in Holborn Restaurant, London, under the auspices of the
Legitimation League; paper; 16 pages, .05
Liberty: Political, Religious, Social and Sexual. By A. F.
Tindall, A.T.C.L.; an essay towards establishing an
Anti-Persecution Society to defend the rights of individuals
against state interference and Puritan persecution. Paper, 8
pages. .05
Loma, A Citizen of Venus. By William Windsor. One of the most
startling books ever published. A scathing criticism of the
civilization of the nineteenth century; pathetic, romantic,
revolutionary. Handsomely printed and bound in silk cloth, with
gold title. 426 pages. $ 1.50
Love, Marriage and Divorce. A discussion between Henry James,
Horace Greeley and Stephen Pearl Andrews, including the final
replies of Mr. Andrews, rejected by the New York “Tribune,” and
a subsequent discussion, occurring twenty years later between
Mr. James and Mr. Andrews. Handsomely printed on fine paper;
121 large pages, .35
Mary Jones, or the Infidel School Teacher. By Elmina Drake
Slenker. Paper; 40 pages, .20
Mind, The Nature of, and Its Relation to Magnetism; also an
Inquiry Whether Individuality can Persist after Death. By
Albert Chavannes. 1898; paper; 50 pages, .25
Mutual Banking, A Simple Plan to Abolish Interest on Money.
Reprint of Colonel W. B. Green’s masterly work. The very best
book yet written on the money question; paper; 78 pages, .10
Perfect Motherhood. By Lois Waisbrooker. Indicates the powerful
effect of environment during antenatal existence upon the
character of the child; paper, 25c; cloth,
$ 1.00
Personal Rights and Sexual Wrongs. By Oswald Dawson. Handsomely
bound in boards, yellow and gold illuminated cover. Contains
four full page half-tone portraits of Ezra H. Heywood, Moses
Harman, Lillian Harman and Lois Waisbrooker, .25
Proudhon and his Bank of the People. Being a defence of the great
French anarchist, showing the evils of a specie currency and
that interest on capital can and ought to be abolished by a
system of free and mutual banking. By Charles A. Dana, late
editor of the New York “Sun;” paper, .15
Red Heart in a White World. A suggestive manual of Free Society;
containing a method and a hope. By J. William Lloyd. Handsome
illuminated paper cover in white, red and green; 50 pages, .10
Revival of Puritanism. An expose of the spirit “which makes
cowards of editors and teachers, and spies and blackmailers of
officials; which emasculates our literature and degrades our
art, and which harries, robs and imprisons the few who are so
organized that they will not sacrifice to what they hold to be
a falsehood, even though death be the alternative.” By E. C.
Walker. Paper; large pages, .10
Revolution, The Next. A series of tracts or essays on sex reform,
republished from back numbers of Lucifer, each, .10
Ruled by the Tomb. A discussion of free thought and free love by
Orford Northcote; paper; 24 pages, .10
The Social Question. A discussion between Juliet H. Severance, M.
D., and David Jones, editor of the “Olive Branch.” If you think
women’s minds are inferior to those of men and that they are
not logical reasoners, read this pamphlet and see how a woman
physician defends the right of women to ownership of their
persons; paper; 48 pages. Edition limited, .15
Unrevealed Religion. An address by J. K. Ingalls. “To the
unrevealed religion, that which springs from a normal love of
Truth and Justice and of Freedom, the race owes all its
material, social and spiritual progress;” paper, .10
Wherefore Investigating Company, a novel dealing with the land
question and social freedom, by Lois Waisbrooker. Paper; 313
pages, 75c; cloth, $1.25
Why the Undertone? An open letter to Judge Joseph E. Gary, who in
1893 sought to justify his participation in 1887 in the
lynching, under hypocritical guise of law, of men who
entertained and expressed unpopular opinions. By Sarah E. Ames.
Published June 25, 1893, the date of the unveiling of a
monument at Waldheim cemetery to the memory of the victims of
mob spirit masquerading under the pomp and panoply of justice.
Edition limited, .20
The above list comprise only a few of the books sold by us. Address M.
HARMAN, 1394 W. Congress St., Chicago, U. S. A.
Send twenty-five cents to us for trial subscription to Lucifer, the
Light-Bearer, the exponent of the ideas promulgated in this book.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in
spelling.
2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.