Amador ledger., 1901-06-28
POLLY .LARKIN
Observation-Disclosures


land than this, where we are told the
walls are of jasper, the gates of pearl and
the streets are pure gold. All the suffer-
ing was over. fought to have been glad
and joyful, but wasn't, for was fond
of the one who had gone from us, and
was sorry for the ones who were left
and who were heart broken over their
separation. The quiet sleeper lying in
the casket with hands folded and look
of unearthly peace on the marble face,
not even the tick of friendly and
sympathetic clock to be heard and only
the swaying of the curtain at the open
window to break the quiet. The 81
lence was awful, Polly, but you have
been there like nearly everybody else
and know all about it, and 1 really
think these lonely vigils make better
men and women of us. There is some
thing so pure about the silent sleeper
and there is something so overwhelm
ing and heart-rehding in death. There
is another silence, or rather solitude,
should say, that produces much the
same effect on my nerves, and that is
to sit by myself at the ocean side ON a
dull, gray cloudy day, and see the
breakers coming, wave ON wave, until
they break into white-caps on the
rocky shore. 1t is grand, Polly, but it
nearly always overcomes me. But the
most overpowering silence ever en-
dured was in Virginia City. 1 had
been there for months, and day and |
night the heavy machinery that nearly
shook the town and was fairly deafen- |
ing to strangers, was never still. One
night something about the machinery |
broke somewhere about l or 2 o'clock |
in the morning. All the machinery |
stopped and the effect was like magic. |
Every one in he town, men, women |
and children, awoke terrified by the
awful and sudden silence, and most of
them poured into the streets to find out |
the cause of the terrible quiet that had |
settled down over the town. 1t was |
just as if the universe had stopped sud-
denly, and there was no more rest in
that town until the ponderous ma
chineEy was again in motion. Then |
the inhabitants went to their touches
and slept the sleep of the just"
The song, ~ Wish the Men Were all
Far Beyond the Northern
Sea-" must have originated in Besju-
kovschtschina (the name is enough to
rattle most mem, state in Russia. 1t |
is probably the only place in the world
that is run entirely by women. The
state is made up of seven villages, each |
presided over by mayoress, and the
whole under the superintendent of a |
lady named Tasckka, who acts as pres
ident. There are women magistrates,
women preachers, women police, wom-
en- doctors, and in fact every capacity |
in the state is filled with women. The
roads are made by women, the women
sell milk and deliver letters. If you
have difficulty with your neighbor in
this state and want to bring an action |
you must go to woman lawyer, and if |
there is anything in your house to be
stolen, it is not the courageous man |
who does it, but a burglar of the fair
sex. No place of any Importance is
filled by man." How lntimidated |
the poor men of this state must be. |
They hardly dare intimate that they
have a soul of their own. They are
back numbers, and are content to see
the women take the reins of govern
ment into their own hands. That the |
women have succeeded in dispensing
justice in a faithful and judicious way
is admitted, and that they are prosper
GUS in the seven villages is shown by
statistics. Whether man-suffrage or
the right to vote has been given to the
stronger sex the history of the place
fails to state. The woman-suffragists
of the United States ought to send
their fallen brothers copy of their by
laws. Evidently the women of Besju-
jukovschtschina rule wisely and well,
for there seems to be no dissatisfaction
among the stronger sex, no pleading
for their rights, but they are content to
let politics and state affairs in general
move on in the even tenor of their way,
and have accepted the inevitable with
resigned and cheerful spirit. If they
want to figure in public life, hold office
and take the reins of government into
their own hands, the world does not
know of their aspirations, for they
never whisper it and keep the longing
hidden within their own hearts.
Children havequaint ways of express
ing themselves that are amusing, and
yet at the same time we would not
have their artless baby talk and ideas
changed if we could. The following is
a baby's prayer, and if it did not reach
the throne Of grace, then there is no
chance for the petitions of the grown-up
children. In her little white night
gown, dainty four-year-old Grace knelt
beside her crib and lisped: "Now I
lay me down to sleep. Dear Mr.. God
pray Thee take, if l should die before
l wake, this little child home to sleep"
Her prayer has been answered, and she
has been taken home to sleep, but it
has left sorrowful and empty house
hold.