The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1901-05-31

bllpPluB away raster IMAM Jltne ltSclIi
for it Is true that age is the sum of
experience rather than years, and all
OF life may be lived between the set
ting and the rising Of the sun. But
with Frances this change was not the
shrinking OF the soul into forgetful-
ness; il was An enlargement OF view
and perspective in which old hesdlands
assumed smaller proportions. New
imperative duties they seemed, arose
and met her; new responsibilities pre-
sentsd themselves; she faced them all
bravely, hopefully, lovingly. The fine
quality OF her soul proved itself in the
casting out Of all the bitterness which
had in the first hours of her misfor-
tune stormed its citadel and raised
somber banners there. The victory
over self won by this frnil girl was so
marvelously complete that no cynicism
supplanted her innocent faith in the
eternal existence of truth and good
ness and their ultimate triumph over
evil. Her touching acceptance OF life
in its new aspect was not born in n
day. There were weeks OF anguish;
there were months OF dull heartache
and loneliness; there were tear-wet
pillows and nights OF crying out against
fate; for the death OF an ideal is the
saddest death in all the universe, since
for this there is no resurrection. The
girlish ideal Of Frances Brookin was
dead ut last, and slept under the petals
Of faded white rose. Richard Somers
was out of her life. out OF her heart.
The man Ehe loved had never existed,
she told herself He was dream, n
romance, an immaculate conception OF
a virgin mind. The real man was tho
unworthy offspring OF base, worldly
passions; he was nothing to her but
a name.
Political events fastened the girl
into womanhood and towards that
large tolerance with which the strong
soul at last invariably encysts the in
explicable and unwelcome facts it can
not avoid. With one leap the fierce
south entered the arena Of war, and
Virginia hills echoed the mingled
cheers OF contending armies and the
thunder of mighty guns. Richmond
seemed to have become, as In a day,
the center OF intrigue and OF action.
On every side flashed the gold and sill
yer OF wars rich trappings. Plumes
| danced in the breezes and the coufed-
crate gray met the eye, rest where it
would. From the capitol the banner
OF n new nation hoated proudly. and
beneath II echoed the tramp OF march
ing legions, the galloping hoof-beats
OF horses. through all hours OF day and
night. Men, in this hitherto staid old
southern city, hurried, under the spur
OF emotions that seemed born OF con-
tagion in the air, and anxious women
went about with willing hands to aid
In every department they might in
wade. Among these, her life ad justinR
itself easily and gratefully to the new
demands, was Frances Brookin, the
tenderness of her fns face softened
and deepened into divine womanliness,
the lovs-ray eloquent in her melting
eyes.
Swiftly the holiday eide OF the war
had faded out OF view. Agonized al
lence swallowed up laughter. For the
drift was coming in from where the
storm OF battle ragged, wrecks OF hui
man forms once freighted with life's
rarest merchandise. Soon every hos
pital, every available space in church
and public building and the most spa
cious of private homes were to have
their quota OF the wounded, the dying,
and the dead. The southern woman was
entering upon that field OF labor in
which she achieved her noblest dignity,
her fame its Immortality. Foremost
among those who first gave their en-
ergies, their whole lives TO the allevia-
ton Of suffering, the inspiration OF the
hopeless and the Departing, was Fran
ces Brookin. Free TO dispose OF her
time as she would and with an album
dant means at her disposal she made
herself ministering angel wherever
a soldier suffered. Day and night she
laborsd, sustained by boundless patri-
otism and an elation for which she
could not account, try as she would.
She failed in her self-analysis from
! ignorance OF the fact that a voice that
has once spoken to the heart is never
quite silent afterwards, and that
youth when il buries its dead tramples
not the sod above IL. Fiery hatred Of
the invader possessed her, as 10 did
her siSterS; bred in the bone and nour-
ished with the mothers milk il could
not be quelled except by years of gentle
association and common cause, but
by strange paradox this bitterness
excluded every stained and bloody
blue uniform or haggard northern face.
Out Of the fight, these were ever out of
the sweep OF a southern woman's ven
geanee. Upon the suffering prisoners
Frances delighted 10 lavish the tender
ness OF her nature, now broadened and
deePened by its own ministry; and
something touchingly human carried
her among them, although she was not
conscious of it.
For this had come to pass: within
the heart of Frances Broollin there
lived fiction, the Richard Somers of
her girlish dreams: Richard Somers as
she had seen him face to face one night
under the burning match, his voice