Evening journal., 1900-03-06

psychological phenomenon. Jennie
O'Neil 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
Crane Vine Swing" Now she Us dy-
ing. and knows II. Her great desire
expressed by herself for publication
is to appear once more public and
is TO appear once more IN public and
If she can summons strength the doc.
tors will let her do IT, A literary
friend-tO please hcr-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
10 the end, and now IN the Valley or
the Shadow, longs to rocite II. To a
New York newspaper reporter she
said the other day.
1T won't be months; not many, any
way Father died last March, and he
is lying in the little cemetery at Patch
Grove Wisconsin. l wish you could
see that little cemetery. 10 Is so. so
pretty and cozy in the spring It will
be spring when they take me there
that is, If ! so, as / think / viii, In
March.
you know, It never looks cold or
sad or lonely in our little cemetery.
ln summer It Is just one beautiful
bloom of roses-father always loYed
June rOses-and mother and he plant
ed a great many in our plot. ! shall
be there when they bloom again
81 have absolutely no fear of death.
There has. Of course. been O great
deal of pain. Il was agony. agony ago.
ny. And I'm so happy now TO think
/ shall never have that awful pain
again
"Oh, yes. Of course I have treatment
It's horribly painful-and | some
| times think how good It will be oveg
there to have nothing to get pains in
l mean to have no physical body. But
ahl I'm wrong; something remains
that can still pain-that can ache and
ache. / mean the mind, the heart. the
something we call soul.
Wont it be lovely in Patch GrOve'
/ When summer comes I shall looi
down to see the roses on my grave
| They're always lovely then-and yor
know that one Of my pet ideas about
4 heaven is that 7 can see and know
what's going on down here. There.
so much human comfort in tha
thought.
Il was taken with a terrible hemor
rhage in my apartments, and some onl
sent for the Bellevue ambulance
When the doctor came he said II h
had delayed FIVE minutes more
should have bled TO death. But all tn
time / wasn't a bit alarmed, myself
/ didn't think it was anything serious
'eWeil. that night in Bellevue hal
a most horrible dream. I dreamed tina
I was in q room alone with a grea
black horse. Everywhere ! noted tha
he followed me-always with his hea
on my skcGlder-the fright and hoi
ror he inspired me with I can't des
cribe, because l have always love
horses-born on stock farm, 20
know
We'll Ia trying to escape from hir
I rushed into an adjoining room
There stood my friend-him I hav
not. Well ! rushed to him for prOtei
ton. the horse always by my sid
He put out his arms, but somehow h
could not clasp me, and then. loOkin
at me sadly. he said:-'Jennie. littl
girl, it's too late. It's too late. At tn;
; moment-God help mel suffcre
an the agonies possible. I knew.
knew it was my death sentence. an
from his lips. Then, suddenly. afts
what seemed to me centuries of a.
ony. a great peace settled down @
my torn heart.
, "Then | knew better when the do
! tors told me 1t was all over
1T is too late, poor little girl Not
ing can aid you Four, five montl
, ago there might have been time. T
day You would die on the operatir
table Be brave. that's a good chill
r and enjoy the little Of life's sunshiI
that vet shines for you"
The advice was unnecessary. New
Z in art, fiction or nature has woml
2 faced and awaited death more cour
geously, more patiently than doi
j. Jennie O'Neil Potter in her lit
white cot at st. Luke's Hospital
New York, where the cancer is eatiI
her life out.