The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1900-02-23
(Jennie O'Neil Potter.)

poy CuOlOSlCdl pIISuOlhcAOn. JGuulo
ONeil Potter was one of the best.
known elocutionistS in the United
States. She made herself popular by
reciting How Salvador Won," "Flirts
and Matrons" and Swinging in the
Grape Vine Swing" Now she is dy-
ing, and knows it. Her great desire
expressed by herself for publication
is to appear once more public, and
is to appear once more in public, and
il she can summons strength, the doc
tors will let her do it. A literary
friend-to please her-has written a
monologue which tells of the scene
when the doctors told her she must
die, and closes with her death. And
this strange woman, looking forward
to the end, and now in the Valley of
the Shadow, longs to recite it. To a
New York newspaper reporter she
said the other day:
1T won't be moHths; not many, any
way. Father died last March, and he
is lying in the little cemetery at Patch
Grove, Wisconsin. | wish you could
see that little cemetery. 1t is so, so
pretty and coy in the spring. 1t will
be spring when they take me there
that is, If | go, as l think l will, in
March.
You know, 1t never looks cold or
sad or lonely in our little cemetery
In summer it is just one beautiful
bloom of roses-father always loved
June roses-and mother and he plant
ed great many in our plot. | shall
be there when they bloom again.
81 have absolutely no fear of death
There has, Of course, been a great
deal of pain. 1t was agony, agony, ago.
ny. And I'm so happy now to think
shall never have that awful pain
again.
ooh, yes, of course have treatment
It's horribly painful-and l seme-
times think how good it will be over
there to have nothing to get pains in.
| mean to have no physical body. But,
ahi I'm wrong; something remains
that can still pain-that can ache and
ache. mean the mind, the heart, the
something we call soul.
Won't it be lovely in Patch Grove?
When summer comes | shall look
down to see the reses on my grave.
They're always lovely then-and you
know that one of my pet ideas about
heaven is that | can see and know
what's going eli Down here. There's
SO much human cSmfert in that
thought!
81 was taken with terrible hemor.'
rhage In my apartments, and SEINE one
sent for the Bellevue ambulance.
When the doctor came he said IL he
had delayed FIVE minutes mere l
should have bled to death. But an the
tine | wasn't bit alarmed, Myself.
didn't think it was anything sefisus.
well, that night In Bellevue h4d
a NEST horrible dream. dreamed that
l was in a room alene with q great
black horse. Everywhere | netsd that
he followed me-aiWays with his head
ON my sheulder-the fright aAd hor.
ror he inspired nae with | can't des-
cribe, because l have always lsved
horses-born on q stock farm, yeu
know.
We'll, in trying to escape from him
rushed into an adjoining rsom.
There stood my friend-him l have
not. Well, | rushed to him for protec-
ton, the horse always by nay side
He put out his arms, but somehow he
could not clasp me, and then locking
at me sadly, he said:-Jennie. little
girl, it's too late. it's too late At that
moment-God help neil suffered
all the agonies possible. l knew,
knew 1t was my death sentence, and
from his lips. Then. suddenly, after
what seemed to me centuries of az.
.eny, a great peace settled down On
my torn heart.
"Then l knew better when the dec.
tors told me 1t was all over.
1T is too late, poor little girl Moth.
ing can aid you. Four, five months
ago there might have been time. To
day you would die on the operating
table BE brave, that's a good dhija,
and enjoy the little of life's sunshine
that yet shines for you"
The advice was unnecessary. Never
in art, fiction or nature has wemaa
faced and awaited death more coura.
geously, more patiently than dses
Jennie O'Neil Potter in her Nttle
white cot at st. Luke's Hospital IN
New York where the cancer is eattaS
her life out.