The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-05-09

intellect and seems to have followed what would have been esteemed difficult studies for men, as mere idle hour di- version. Many pages of her journal in this period are filled with demonstrations and solutions, which 1 confess are be. yond my knowledge. On her zIst birth day she writes this-I again read from the journal of this most beautiful and unhappy woman:
 @June I6, 1874 To. day am zI year, old. My life has passed the mystic union of seven and three: three, by all the canons of the necromancers, divfners and astrologists, is sad and regretful mum ber, probably because the third attempt commonly results in disillusion, either by failure which leads to disgust, or by success, which reveals hollowness; seven is full of grave import, and corresponds to midlife, when all is strong and deep and serious; held to be fortunate since strength is enabled by virtue of its own self to win its will.
 numbers, and what strange fascination in their inevitable results of combination and division and arrangement Are all things merely varying combinations oi one atom Have we really any individual existence2 Are we separate at any time from the dust of the earth We are cer- tainly never for one instant independent
 How is 1t that if 1 aR net individual feel such an entire indifference to all of the world beside myself; and how, if am only one consciousness, can so des- pise my whole existence? Is death revelation, in spite of all of the conclu- sions of the farthest reaching minds2
 How ask myself the eternal ques- tiohs.
 "I have passed my whole life before myself this afternoon and now, as the world holds for me its midnight instan. farthest away from the sun and life, l al- most shudder at my own intense selfish ness. Except for the little time in which l gave everything to Edward, l seem never to have had thought outside of myself am sick of all. Henceforth l will live in the world; have failed to know myself cannot solve the riddle of life. will seek happiness as the mul- titude seek 1t. After all, is not the voice of the multitude the voice of the un- movable God2 Though every man is ignorant, are not all men wise? There Is no knowledge, no certainty. Is not the happy hour the true solution of the prob- lem of existence? lam in the midst of a great city, alone and unknown. will make one of the many. know the thoughts of the dead; have touched the skirts of the certainties of science now l will seek the living world; perhaps a happy life can come only through eur weakness, our needs and our symp athies. Farewell, Agnes Toxel of the book and the midnight lamp, and welcome Miss Toxel, the idle and frivolous woman of society,"
 "These pages shall faithfully record the new life. Will it be vanity of vapi- ties2"
 "Agnes knew too much to be happy" said George.
 do not know; for the next three years her journal is very full. She seems to have devoted herself to society in it's fullest sense. She saw every side of life. She associated with the deepest and the shallowest minds; she carried on an ex- tensive correspondea ce; she travelled in Europe, and gave herself up to luxury and diversion. She met many men who were fascinated by her pale beauty and by her subtle knowledge of all the past none of them seem to have had the least of her thoughts; each was simply one of the crowd. In the winter of -'77.S she writes first of you, George. have gone over these volumes more than once, and can turn to the page where she first dis tinguishes you from the rest of the world She writes under date of January 2, 1878:
 "At to-day MT. George Aylie, my es- cort of last night, called upon me. He is very quiet, almost grave in his man. ner he impresses me as having thought much, and as yet he has not the physique of student, but rather of the Greek athlete We referred to the previous evenings and the individuals we noticed we entertained each other with musical selections, and finally we began to talk of our inner lives. pressed him to re- main far beyond the limits of the formal call which he Jed; l felt an interest in him, and in life, which was rev to me. Our conversation was very inti- mate. Instead of dinner l had coffee brought to the music room we laughed over it and felicitated ourselves upon return to the Arabian Nights. After the coffee we sat upon the small sofa in the music room, and Mir. Aylie took my hand in his; he paid me some pretty compli. ments upon its beauty, and kept it in his own for some time. I was peculiarly af- fected by his touch; he recalled Edward to me in some way, very strangely; Il hardly know how; except that Edward was like Mir. Aylie, a decided blonde, there is hardly a psint of resemblance [ felt delightfully."- at res, with MT. Aylie, as if had reached the end of long journey, and could be as idle and thoughtless as l chose. He spoke at last of the rash impropriety of his conduct; urged the precedents of Scheherazade, in whose stories chance congenial acquain- tances spend all of the hours ofthe night in music and convers ation, and we parted (what an expression D-Mr. Aylie left at 10. had no hesitation in insist ing upon speedy repetition of his call. like him better than any one have