“A Girl Named Montgomery”[1]
Monty was a butt.[2]
She butted me in the stomach[3] on my birthday[4] because I didn’t want to give[5] her a piece of cake.[6] I was trying to eat my cake and have it;[7] there was none left for her.[8]
She got in trouble.[9] I got a camera.[10]
That day I ate so much cake and ice cream and drank so much lemonade that I was very sick after.[11] I vomited again and again, flushing the awful stuff from view.[12] I prayed to God for health:[13] “I’ll never eat chocolate cake again!”[14]
(But that wasn’t true a bit.)[15]
Montgomery laughed when she saw,[16] and I promised myself that for the future I would on that score act more wisely.[17]
§
My sister was a woman of uncommon gifts.[18] She knew how to manipulate other people,[19] usually by comparison, innuendo, or indirect reference[20]—and sometimes by directly suggesting it.[21] She loved to expose herself[22] in front of the boys as they stopped their play;[23] she loved to watch the expression of their faces as they dickered with her.[24] She smoked, she talked subversively, she did as she liked and went where she chose, and danced.[25] Her favorite song was the curious chant of[26] “Sympathy For The Devil,”[27] which she played through to its noisy ending without once taking her eyes from the[28] poster of the revolutionary[29] Charlotte Brontë herself,[30] which hung on the wall opposite.[31]
[32]
Yes, she was sick;[33] every time she set down her foot she set it down farther from humanity,[34] and shook the whole house with her.[35]
And she never let me do anything of that sort.[36] She treated me as though I were part of the landscape[37]—she could tie me hand and foot to a tree and go away,[38] she could toss me her broken dolls and old clothes[39] like I was a floor.[40]
I always wanted to help, and I often tried,[41] with her dangerous vagaries.[42] But she would just tell me I was impertinent.[43] I resented her protecting manner.[44] I always wanted to cut off my hair because it was so black, and my skin was so white, and they didn’t go together.[45] But she wouldn’t let me.[46] She said I was getting more individualistic in my leanings every day and that[47] someday I might find means to avenge myself,[48] but this was not it.[49]
“If I had hair like yours…”[50]
§
One dark, cloudy night, when our parents chanced to be absent, we were sitting with our[51] backs to the wall and nine-tenths of the galaxy howling[52] at us from the constellation Perseus.[53]
“I want to tell you a love story, my sister,” she said.[54] “Once upon a time—a fairly long ago time—there lived in a neat little cottage two young girls who were sisters. If you had gone to see them on a bright warm summer’s day, I daresay you would have envied them and their life and their lot.”[55]
“But something was wrong in the courtyard inside.[56] Every night an assemblage of devils meets there, makes a row, dances, plays cards, and perpetuates every sort of vileness,[57] and every morning they take great pride in cleaning up around their garden patches.”[58]
I looked across the yard[59] and imagined the fine carryings on they were doubtless having in the dark there.[60] Every now and then the clouds parted and[61] the moon lit up the fearsome scene[62]—nothing but dead grass and a net of brambles.[63]
“The sisters would listen with the most breathless interest.[64] One of them was a full-fledged rebel;[65]the other was afraid of her hands and her complexion and a hundred other things.[66] But they were both lonesome, being alone; even as light and darkness is obstinate to each other.[67]And they were both very happy in this luxury of mystical speculation.”[68]
“Which was which?”[69]
“What was which?”[70]
“Sister—which sister?” was the dreamy answer.[71]
“Each sister was the complement of the other. But we[72]won’t know until a later diagnosis[73] which one is which.”[74]
I shot her a furtive comprehensive glance.[75]“You’re making this up as you go!”[76]
She looked back at me with a strange sadness and reproach in her eyes.[77]“That is how stories should be told, so that you go off, as you listen, into a land where things may not always be what they seem…”[78]
§
Monty had a personality which attracted men,[79] but she attracted women as well.[80] Her friends were all lovers;[81] her lovers were all untrue.[82] I was afraid of them at first, there were so many of them, but[83] soon I was desirous;[84] I had never kissed a pretty girl before—[85]never kissed a boy![86] I wouldn’t even know how to talk to them.[87] Where did she learn it all?[88]
I would follow her and find her busy[89] necking with heavy and deadly seriousness[90] some silly old fellow[91] and she would scream,[92] “Get away from me and put on your nightgown, you silly little girl!”[93] But I would just sit and look on.[94] We were like two tigers thirsting to be at one another’s throats.[95] It had been that way since I could remember.[96] I turned her over to[97] our parents whenever possible;[98] she was always in hot water,[99] and I was often called on to mention the circumstances, which I always did,[100] of her criminal exploits.[101]
It was nothing she did, nothing you could isolate as an example and criticize. It was what she was.[102] She was a perpetual riddle, and seldom rightly solved;[103] a riddle which shares with the universe the merit of having no answer.[104] Monty had a deadly fascination for[105] a world beyond, which is already in existence.[106] And her fascination was tinged with fear,[107] as though she was afraid she would lose her chance if she waited a moment;[108] her chance to give something to the world—[109]
§
One time she became altogether unmanageable.[110] We were playing Juliet at the time—I used to affect Shakespeare when I was young and foolish.[111] We had just performed, to the best of our abilities,[112] the famous sonnet scene[113] when she seized me by my beautiful long hair and[114] then—she kissed me.
“What on earth!” I exclaimed, disengaging myself.[115]
“I thought you wanted to know what I knew.”[116]
“What do you know about Shakespeare?”[117]
“What do you know about Mars, or Venus?”[118]
“I know enough to be aware without your telling me!”[119]
“I wouldn’t tell—you might pinch me black and blue.”[120]
“I’ll do it anyway, and you don’t need to show me anything.”[121]
I pinched her black and blue, and she kept saying, “Go on![122] Yes, yes, go on! You’ll never be satisfied if you don’t.”[123]
§
Men often don’t credit us with it, but we women, as a rule, are horribly sensitive;[124] Montgomery was the most.[125]
If she was sensitive of anything it was[126] because our parents and teachers have so instructed us.[127] Her infirmities were magnified into faults; her failures were called follies; her mistakes, misdemeanors; her weaknesses, sins; and her unwilling lapses, crimes.[128]
That is why she didn’t care any longer;[129] she would think there was no use in trying to be good, and as soon as she stopped trying, why, it was very easy to be naughty.[130] At least that’s my interpretation. And yet our author clearly[131] doesn’t understand her world[132] any better than her parents.[133] (I have always been a little nearsighted.)[134]
She would run away and they would call, “Thank you!”[135] And then you’d feel strange here alone, and[136] you would look for her.[137] You would find her in the graveyard.[138] It was her favorite haunt; the gray walls, the bit of cloister, the solemn pathway with its tombs and archway of leafless trees—how she loved it all![139]
And how it frightened me![140]
§
At college she was distinguished for her independence of thought and for her alert, vigorous mind.[141] Everything alarmed her; her thoughts leaped forward with great bounds into the future,[142] looking for solutions of philosophic problems.[143] She protested. She made negative statements to show against what she protested, but set down no positive statement to explain what, on the same subject, she accepted.[144] According to her everything was wrong, and the way to right it was to listen to her and join her outfit and go in with her, overthrow the government, overthrow the capitalist, own everything, and live happily ever afterwards.[145]
One day her professor said to her, “You are doing splendid work.[146] You should consider my proposition.”[147] Then he touched her shoulder and her black hair with shy fingers.[148] She bit him to the bone with her frenzy of rage[149] (not harder than a carrot)[150] and flew from the room, never stopping till she had gained her own and slammed the door behind her.[151]
When she reported this she was cunningly asked if she felt assured of salvation, and on her saying that she was as certain of heaven as if she was already there, she was led on with a question whether she held that she could not commit mortal sin. Instinctively she drew back from the dangerous ground—[152]she knew what they were winking about—[153]and that she had already been exposed to calumny.[154]
She dropped out before the expiration of the term sending me a note of despair:[155]
“I have turned every stone[156] and turned up nothing new; the insects are mostly smaller and paler[157] than we expected but bad enough to tire the horses almost to death.[158] Under pretty nearly every stone are centipedes.[159] They are all the creatures and tools of the lust of domination—[160]that’s certain—so I must remove myself, and this time I do not propose to burden[161] with the utmost frankness and honesty[162] anyone except you, who knows a horse from a centipede.”[163]
Our parents would have found themselves very much embarrassed if[164] they knew it, but she begged me not to tell them, and I decided to humor her.[165]
Then she moved to Texas.[166]
§
I stayed in Illinois.[167] I got a job as waitress in a café. There I was more annoyed by men than ever; but I earned enough to be able to afford a decent room and some furniture of my own.[168] I wondered about my sister.[169] I wondered if she felt the same way.[170] And sometimes I even went in the kitchen and[171] sat on the low ice chest in the pantry and ate chocolate cake,[172] and sometimes I even fancied that she was laughing at me behind my back;[173] and always I was haunted by that inexplicable sensation that unseen eyes were watching me.[174]
§
I did not see her again for nearly four years, and my heart contracted with a sudden pain at the sight of her. She was growing old.[175] She looked like our ma, only a great deal more beautiful; and she had a strange white dress on, that shone, and hung clear to her feet.[176] I had never seen her crushed like this before.[177] Was she a Mormon?[178]
Not quite, but almost.[179] She told me a story of a bad, brutal, morose husband, who had not fucked her for months.[180] “I thought when you got married you didn’t have to, just slept late and fixed your hair,”[181] I joked; but, seeing me look serious,[182] she could only smile faintly and wonder.[183] Who was I that I should shower razor blades?[184]
She stayed in my house and coughed much through the night.[185] I woke her up, and opening her eyes she recognized me and moaned out: “Oh, my poor heart’s broke with him; I’m so overcome, I can’t get up.”[186] I offered to take her something but she said she did not care for anything.[187] Her death-like pallor, and the strange look in her great black eyes frightened me as I bent to kiss her before going downstairs, and as my lips touched her cheek she pushed me away with a cry of pain. “Leave me,” she said.[188] Then she immediately reproached herself.[189] All at once she affected a new humor,[190] playfully hiding her face in deprecation.[191] “Good-night, little sister! Don’t worry about me!”[192]
§
I went back to bed, but I could not sleep. I lighted my bedside lamp and read Vanity Fair.[193] I could hear her in her room talking in her sleep.[194] “If he treats me like a dog, I don’t cringe and wag my tail. I bite.”[195]
§
One night while I was away[196] she threw a party.[197]
Like bees from a hive they swarmed, a handful of men, from the door of the[198] club to the home.[199] A woman with a snake in her hair[200] lit a fire in a punctured petrol can and the place looked very cheery.[201] Someone called the police.[202] There was a knock at the door and the police were admitted.[203] Soon they were all on board, the gangplank drawn in, and the ship started.[204]
And so they sailed until sunrise at break of day.[205]
In the morning she looked on broken radiators, frozen goldfish, drooping plants, and what she feared was a dead bird.[206] She tried to set matters right.[207] She drowned the floor in dust-laying water,[208] she fixed the flowers in the vases,[209] and she bought a fish,[210] and it too died away, but not till it had bathed the upturned face with its crimson hue[211]—a terrible darkness, the very blush of death![212]
When I got home that night I didn’t say anything.[213] It was like watching a photographic plate develop, and it gave a clearness of understanding of what was going on which a mere comparison after it was all finished would never give.[214] She would not be checked on her downward course; in fact I was too busy clinging to the precious camera and holding on,[215] sedulously engaged in collecting evidence against her conduct,[216] to attempt to argue with her.[217] I simply went to sleep; and I woke up—and[218] I kicked her out of my home.[219]
“I try to understand you, but I don’t seem to. I am so very sorry that you—care for me.[220] You are my favorite—we are relations—there is nothing to be said against us.[221] But you are a trial!”[222]
She left without notice, leaving behind her trunk.[223]
My, but I was proud of myself![224]
§
There had always been something mysterious around me, and my sister was the mysterious being par excellence.[225]
But mystery has not won or redeemed the world, and never will.[226]
Mystery is a ruse—a stratagem[227]—a method to make large pearls from small or broken ones.[228] Experience had improved her strategy;[229] she hid everything which she wished to conceal.[230] But I was no longer a mystic,[231] and her power was almost neutralized.[232]
I was starting to see the temple of the world—the sanctuary of the Divine Wisdom[233]—the mysterious inner sanctum.[234] I saw only a girl with anxious eyes;[235] and she saw in me the only one of all around her whom it was possible not to detest.[236] At least not without my help.[237] Ah! Could I not help her in that?[238]
§
It may have been some months later (though, looking back on it, it seems but a few days) that[239] she came over one rainy day and arrived minus a shoe. She said she had lost one in the mud somewhere. It was towards evening and rather dark.[240] She asked if she could stay the night.[241] “I want to sleep just one night in a nest.[242] Your fish will be very safe!”[243]
She stayed for two weeks.[244] During that time I was afforded an opportunity of studying her in a way that no one else has ever been able to do. I watched every movement of her body, face and eyes.[245] I saw nothing but peace and quietness.[246] Not even her hair was ruffled. The sort of head you might see bowed at St. Thomas’ any Sunday, even out of Lent.[247] She said nothing of herself.[248]
One night she missed a step at the top of the stairs and broke her neck. There was no one but myself in the house.[249] I found her in the hallway a few minutes later, when I chanced along.[250] She was evidently nearly dead and I took a photo of her in this position.[251] It was the vilest thing I ever did.[252]
Then I called for help.[253]
§
I sold a picture today for five thousand dollars; and that is by no means an infrequent occurrence.[254]
In these years we women have lived always with the shadow of the war over us—it never leaves us, night or day.[255]
We are pursued by relentless foes, and are obliged to disguise ourselves.[256] Our disguises are fearful, even to ourselves, as we encounter each other unexpectedly at corners.[257] They represent only the facts of everyday life.[258] We do not live completely where we are.[259]
We who live on the earth, we are always walking over a seething red sea of fire which is hidden in the womb of the earth.[260] We have many ways, thank God, of showing our love and of helping one another.[261] Sometimes we lean on a friend—not for support, but that we may[262] take the place of a man.[263] Sometimes we wear spectacles, sometimes lay them aside.[264] Sometimes one of us stands first; sometimes another.[265] Sometimes we hide all our love-locks away under caps.[266] Sometimes we even amputate a limb.[267] Sometimes we sit by the fire and think, and sometimes we just sit by the fire.[268] Sometimes an explosion will spread the flames; sometimes the fire eats its way slowly, but surely up the floors of a building, without being perceived till it reaches some more inflammable matter or more open space, and then bursts out all of a sudden and burns everything in sight before an alarm can be turned in.[269]
And sometimes we are made even stronger by the one than by the other.[270]
But sometimes we get to looking at circumstances, and they loom up so threateningly before us that in spite of ourselves we tremble and shrink before them.[271] It’s like the moment just before drowning: you’re not under water and you’re not out of it. All you know is that you’re not dead yet.[272] It feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed.[273] All we can do is to hold to what we know is right and trust that everything will come well in the end[274]—trust that it will prove not merely an interesting record, but in a considerable degree useful and instructive[275]—trust that the reader will find something to which the heart may respond,[276] that trust of love in which these thoughts were born on my lips.[277]
Of course, not Monty.[278] She only trusted me[279]—me, as in my secret heart I think I hoped she would.[280]
And I am simply myself.[281]
Notes:
[1] Amy Bell Marlowe, A Little Miss Nobody: Or, With the Girls of Pinewood Hall (1914)
[2] Oliver Onions, A Case in Camera (1921)
[3] G. K. Chesterton, The Club of Queer Trades (1905)
[4] Charles Dickens, Great Expectations (1861)
[5] Harry Castlemon, George in Camp (1879)
[6] Amanda M. Douglas, A Little Girl in Old Pittsburg (1909)
[7] William McFee, Aliens (1918)
[8] Edward C. Booth, The Post-Girl (1908)
[9] Kate Thomas, Aila (1896)
[10] Martin Johnson, Cannibal-land: Adventures with a Camera in the New Hebrides (1922)
[11] Bompa, “A Sailor’s Picnic” from The Sailors’ Magazine, vol. 94 (1922)
[12] Lauren Ann Isaacson, Through These Eyes (1990)
[13] William W. Walter, The Pastor’s Son (1907)
[14] Samuel Milbank Cauldwell, Chocolate Cake and Black Sand (1917)
[15] Edward Charles Booth, The Cliff End (1908)
[16] Elizabeth Wetherell, The Wide, Wide World (1853)
[17] Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, The Memoirs of Casanova, trans. Arthur Machen (1894)
[18] Anna Katharine Green, The Chief Legatee (1906)
[19] Mark Clifton, “Star, Bright” from Galaxy Science Fiction (July 1952)
[20] Arthur Conan Doyle, Through the Magic Door (1907)
[21] James Smith, The Great Comforter: or, The Work of the Holy Spirit (1858)
[22] Margaret Oliphant, The Story of a Governess (1891)
[23] William Allen White, A Certain Rich Man (1909)
[24] Edwin MacMinn, On the Frontier with Colonel Antes (1900)
[25] Edith Wharton, The Long Run (1916)
[26] Selina Bunbury, Our Own Story: or, The History of Magdelene and Basil St. Pierre (1856)
[27] Isya Joseph, Devil Worship: The Sacred Books and Traditions of the Yezidiz (1919)
[28] Mary Farley Sanborn, It Came to Pass (1892)
[29] Thomas Wolfe, You Can’t Go Home Again (1940)
[30] E. F. Benson, Charlotte Bronte (1932)
[31] Wilhelmine von Hillern, The Vulture Maiden, trans. C. Bell and E. F. Poynter (1876)
[32] E. F. Benson, Charlotte Bronte (1932)
[33] Jim Harmon, “The Place Where Chicago Was” from Galaxy Magazine (February 1962)
[34] Katharine Newlin Burt, The Branding Iron (1919)
[35] William Dodd, The Sisters: or, The History of Lucy and Caroline Sanson (1754)
[36] Emily Sarah Holt, Out in the Forty-Five (1888)
[37] Edgar Saltus, “Alma Adorata” from The Smart Set, vol. 9 (1903)
[38] Robert C. Benchley, Love Conquers All (1922)
[39] Alphonse Daudet, Fromont and Risler (1908)
[40] George Cary Eggleston, Dorothy South: A Love Story of Virginia Just Before the War (1902)
[41] Vera C. Barclay, Danny Again (1920)
[42] Hattie Tyng Griswold, Home Life of Great Authors (1886)
[43] Anthony Trollope, Why Frau Frohmann Raised her Prices, and Other Stories (1882)
[44] Willa Cather, My Antonia (1918)
[45] Judith Merril, “Exile from Space” from Fantastic Universe (November 1956)
[46] E. M. Delafield, The War-Workers (1918)
[47] Adela Orpen, Perfection City (1897)
[48] Charlotte Eliza L. Riddell, The Rich Husband (1858)
[49] Dorothy Mills, The Book of the Ancient Greeks (1925)
[50] Grace May North, Virginia’s Adventure Club (1924)
[51] John Greenleaf Whittier, Yankee Gypsies
[52] Milton L. Coe, “Out of the Dark Nebula” from Planet Stories (May 1951)
[53] Samuel Pierpont Langley, The New Astronomy (1888)
[54] Edward Bellamy, Miss Ludington’s Sister (1884)
[55] Mrs. Molesworth, Fairies Afield (1911)
[56] Mary Roberts Rinehart, Long Live the King (1899)
[57] A. N. [Leonard A.], Russian Folk-Tales (1915)
[58] Susan C. Ferguson, “A Day in the Nellore Kindergarten” from Missions, vol. 14 (1923)
[59] Harold Frederic, The Copperhead (1893)
[60] Rebecca West, The Judge (1922)
[61] Sheila Kaye-Smith, Spell Land: The Story of a Sussex Farm (1910)
[62] Carmen Sylva and Alma Strettell, Legends from River & Mountain (1896)
[63] Mary Louise Foster, The Ship of Dreams: A Novel (1902)
[64] Evelyn Everett-Green, Squib and His Friends (1897)
[65] Ted White and Terry Carr, “I, Executioner” from If: Worlds of Science Fiction (March 1963)
[66] Mrs. Oliphant, Neighbours on the Green, and My Faithful Johnny (1889)
[67] Howard D. Pollyen, The Secret of the Creation
[68] Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr, The Squire of Sandal-Side: A Pastoral Romance (1886)
[69] Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities (1859)
[70] John Kendall, AKA Dum-Dum, “Omar Out of Date by a Renegade Disciple” from Rhymes of the East and Re-collected Verses (1905)
[71] Hermann Sudermann, The Undying Past, trans. Beatrice Marshall (1906)
[72] Archibald Alexander, One Day at a Time, and Other Talks on Life and Religion, (1916)
[73] Samuel Hopkins Adams, Success: a Novel(1921)
[74] Montague Glass, Potash & Perlmutter (1909)
[75] Rafael Sabatini, The Strolling Saint: Being the Confessions of the High & Mighty Agostino D’Anguissola, Tyrant of Mondolfo & Lord of Camrina (1913)
[76] Wells Hastings and Brian Hooker, The Professor’s Mystery (1911)
[77] Beatrice Heron-Maxwell and Florence Eastwick, A Woman’s Soul (1900)
[78] Frederick Joseph Harvey Darton, The Soul of Dorset (1922)
[79] “A Tribute” from The Fuller Bristler, vol. 6 (1922)
[80] A. F. Pollard, Political Pamphlets, vol. 1 (1885)
[81] Susan Coolidge, Last Verses (1906)
[82] John Dryden, “The Secular Masque” from The Works of John Dryden (1808)
[83] Katharine Pyle, The Black-Eyed Puppy (1923)
[84] F. E. Mills, “The Distance Seale” from The Photographic News, vol. 47 (1903)
[85] Evelyn Everett-Green, Torwood’s Trust: A Novel (1884)
[86] Madison Julius Cawein, The Giant and the Star: Little Annals in Rhyme (1909)
[87] Douglas Grant, The Fifth Ace (1918)
[88] Th. Bentzon, “French Girls in Domestic Life” from New Outlook, trans. Bellina Phillips, vol. 58 (1898)
[89] G. L. Clanton, “Hunting Dogs” from Hunter-Trader-Trapper, vol. 24 (1912)
[90] Peggy Baum, “The Art of Necking” from The Minnesota Quarterly (1925)
[91] Thomas Wright, Some Habits and Customs of the Working Classes (1867)
[92] Harriet L. Smith, Peggy Raymond’s Vacation: or, Friendly Terrace Transplanted (1913)
[93] Evelyn Scott, The Narrow House (1921)
[94] Katharine Pyle, The Black-Eyed Puppy (1923)
[95] Arthur W. Marchmont, A Dash For a Throne (1899)
[96] Edgar Watson Howe, The Story of a Country Town (1883)
[97] Emily Eden, Miss Eden’s Letters (1919)
[98] Joseph Stump, Bible Teachings: A Summary View of Christian Doctrine (1915)
[99] Stephen Barr, “The Back of Our Heads” from Galaxy Science Fiction (July 1958)
[100] Horace W. Smith, “David Lennox” from Nuts for Future Historians to Crack (1856)
[101] Fergus Hume, The Mystery Queen (1912)
[102] “The Cinder Buggy” from The Saturday Evening Post, vol. 195 (1923)
[103] “Milton’s Bouverie: or, Retribution” from The Churchman’s Companion, vol. 21 (1857)
[104] W. Somerset Maugham, The Moon and Sixpence (1919)
[105] William Surrey Hart, Injun and Whitey to the Rescue (1922)
[106] Adolf Hausrath, A History of the New Testament Times: The Time of the Apostles (1895)
[107] D. H. Lawrence, The Plumed Serpent (1926)
[108] Mabel Quiller-Couch, Anxious Audrey (1915)
[109] Pemberton Ginther, Miss Pat at Artemis Lodge (1917)
[110] “Life in St. Kilda” from Chambers’s Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art (1877)
[111] George Niblo, Atchoo!: Sneezes from a Hilarious Vaudevillian (1903)
[112] Captain Bird, “A Dead Man’s Vengeance” from Blackwood (1903)
[113] Mrs. Humphry Ward, A Writer’s Recollections, vol. 2 (1918)
[114] Jacobus X…, Discipline in School and Cloister (1902)
[115] Charles L. Fontenay, “Z” from If: Worlds of Science Fiction (June 1956)
[116] Poul William Anderson, “The Sensitive Man” from Fantastic Universe (January 1954)
[117] Alice Duer Miller, Coming Out of the Kitchen!: A Romance (1915)
[118] Alan E. Nourse, “Wanderlust” from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy (October 1952)
[119] John Kendrick Bangs, The Autobiography of Methuselah (1909)
[120] L. T. Meade, Girls of the Forest (1908)
[121] Thornton W. Burgess, The Boy Scouts of Woodcraft Camp (1922)
[122] Violet Hunt, The Celebrity at Home (1904)
[123] Edgar B. P. Darlington, The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings (1910)
[124] Robert Hichens, Bella Donna: A Novel (1908)
[125] Annie Heloise Abel, The American Indian as Participant in the Civil War (1919)
[126] Newton MacTavish, “Thrown In” from The Canadian Magazine, vol. 58 (1922)
[127] “Faith—It’s Principle, and Importance” from The American Theological Review, vol. 1 (1859)
[128] Mary Grace Halpine, The Family Garland: A Choice Book for Families (1851)
[129] Anne Douglas Sedgwick, The Shadow of Life (1906)
[130] Elizabeth Prentiss, Little Susy’s Six Teachers (1864)
[131] Arthur Guiterman, “The Man Who Did the Right Thing” from Life, vol. 78 (1921)
[132] Carl Van Vechten, The Blind Bow-Boy (1923)
[133] Therese Tyler, The Dusty Road (1915)
[134] Mrs. Molesworth, The House That Grew (1900)
[135] Patten Beard, The Surprise Book (1918)
[136] Henry Davenport Northrop, The Model Speaker and Reciter (1910)
[137] Hurst and Blackett, True to Nature (1857)
[138] Anna Katharine Green, Cynthia Wakeham’s Money (1892)
[139] Mrs. John Lillie, “Penelope” from Harper’s Young People (1881)
[140] Hamilton Wright Mabie, Modern Tales and Animal Stories (1909)
[141] Mary Rosetta Parkman, Heroines of Service (1921)
[142] Clare Benedict, XII (1921)
[143] Bertrand Russell, Our Knowledge of the External World as Field for Scientific Method in Philosophy (1914)
[144] Edward Bouverie Pusey, The Church of England a Portion of Christ’s One Holy Catholic Church (1865)
[145] The Forum, vol. 64 (1920)
[146] Miss Ellen E. Standing, “Lottie’s Cross” from Journal of the Outdoor Life, vol. 16 (1919)
[147] Emily and Dorothea Gerard, Beggar My Neighbor (1882)
[148] H. H. Bashford, Tommy Wideawake (1903)
[149] D. H. Lawrence, Aaron’s Rod (1922)
[150] James Cordiner, A Description of Ceylon (1807)
[151] Martha Finley, Elsie’s New Relations (1883)
[152] Henry Charles Lea, A History of the Inquisition of the Middle Ages, vol. 3 (1887)
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