The farmer and mechanic. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 18??-19??, 1902-05-13

Mr.. Howells should proclaim a new
genius in kamschatka. No one dart9
~ disnute him. on the contrary, every
one supports his opinion, and the editions
of the kamschatka go into tens OF thon-
sands no matter whether We know what
| he writes about CT not. II IS not at"dSa
true that the new writer IS not worthy
Of praise. but il would be better Tor MN
| and the reading public as Well if the
| promise OF immortality came after ne had
| nublished a few books instead OF before
| liz arrival in the literary field. The
| most Objectionable feature OF the new
cult is that it stops and destroys original
| thinking ana it breeds intellectual in
sincerity.
Mary MacLane, of Butte, Montana,
has written a book about herself in that
remarkably frank manner which made
Marie Bashkirtseff famous, and straight
| way the young girl OF nineteen is hailed
as a Wonder. From the extracts which
| have appeared thus far, doubtless every
one Will agree on that point; she IS 4
| wonder. but Of wonders there are many
| kinds. It is said that the manuscript Of
| this remarkable book came into the Of
fees Of the publishers one Saturday after
| noon. The reader took it home with him
and spent most Of the night over the
diary Of a young girls emotions. On
| Monday the firm wired an offer to the
author; an acceptance was received on
Wednesday, and by the following night
| the entire manuscript had been set up,
| proof read and cast into page form
ready for printing.
Miss MacLane has, it seems. merely
| recorded her odd thoughts, and because
these have been original and sensational
at times, the publishers feel that the
book Will prove to be a wonderful seller.
At any rate, those who read the story
| viii wonder whether the young girl who
wrote it is crazy or a genius, or whether
she simply needs to be punished severe
~. Following are extracts which show
just what the whole book is:
7, Of womankind and OF nineteen
years, will now begin to set down as full
and frank a portrayal as l am able of
myself, Mary MacLane, for whom the
world contains not a parallel.
l am convinced Of this, for l am odd.
| | am distinctly original i~nnateIy and
in development.
have in me a quite unusual intensity
Of life.
| l can feel.
have a marvellous capacity for misery
| dld vi h1pp4LA1S9.
| | am b~road-mindcd.
| ] am a genius.
l am a philosopher of my own good
| peripatetic school.
| care neither for right nor for wrong
my conscience is nil.
My brain is a conglomeration OF ag-
! g~ressive versatility.
| have reached a truly wonderful state
of miserable morbid unhappiness.
l know myself, oh, very well.
i | have attained an egotism that is
| rare indeed.
| | have gone into the deep shadows.
All this constitutes oddity. | find,
therefore, that I am quite, quite odd"
Presently she compares herself with
Lord Byron and Marie Bashkirtseff.
but as to the latter she saws. I'm most
things l 60 beyond her.
Where she is deep. l am deeper.
Where she is wonderful in her intcn-
sity, am still more wonderful in my in
tensity.
Where she had philosophy, am a
philosopher.
Where she had astonishing vanity and
conceit, I have yet more astonishing
vanity and conceit.
But she, forsooth, could paint good pic
tures-and What can do?
She had a beautiful face, and I am q
plain-featured, insignificant little ami
NAL.
She was surrounded by admiring, SYM
palmetto friends, and I am alone-alonc.
though there are people and people.
She was a genius, and still more am
a genius.
She suffered with the pain of a woman.
young; and l suffer with the pain of >
woman, young and all alone.
And SO it is.
Along some lines l have gotten to the
edge of the world. A step more and 7 fan
on. | do not take the step. / stand on
the edge, and I suffer.
Nothing, oh, nothing on the earth can
suffer like a woman young and all alone.
les, you may gaze long and curiously
at the portrait in the front Of this hool-
Il Is OF one who IS a genius of ~egotis1n
ana analysls,a genius who is awaiting the
ueSllS cohllhs-a genius with q Wondroue
liver within.
! shali tell you more about this liver.
| think, before I have done.
Let me writhe and falter with noir.
let me go mad-but, oh, worldful Of noo
ple-for the love of your God-giva mo
OUT OF TINS secthing darkness only ono
beautlful human hand to touch mine
with love, one beautiful human heart TO
know the aching sad loneliness Of mine
one beautiful human soul to minola nri+b |
mine in long, long rest.
On 1or a human being, my soul walls
"a human being to love me,
On TO know just once-what it is to
be loved. ~
Nineteen years without one faint
SHADOW OF love is moldy, crumbling age
IS gray with the dust of centuries