The Birmingham age-herald., 1917-01-21
The New Years Dreamer


 From Pictorial Review for January, 1917
 A woman fell asleep, one New Years Eve, and dreamed a strange dream And when she woke, she told neighbor about it, in some such words as these: T thought was in strange country" she said, which belonged to us aIl-there was no king And l thought that in that country shoes were ready-rnade. not fash toned clumsily of leather, as we fashion them now, and that the flax was all spun for us, and the flour all ground I thought that the very cows were mixed without our aid, and that we lived in cities' with clean pavements between clean, bright houses, and that milk and meat and bread and eggs were brought to our doors, day after day. I thought that there was something called gas, that made our cooking clean and quick, and things called cars that carried us safely from place to place.
 And in my dream we were all taught taught to read and even to write, as only the scribes do now, and that we read books, books about strange and wonder full places-and saw pictures-the great est in the world!-and that we could hear music whenever we chose. And there were wise doctors to keep us well, and to give us magic sleep in our pain But best of all," she said in a low tone still tinged with the radiance of her dream, 'best of all, was that the children were safel There were no nobles to seize our girls for their own pleasure and to send our boys like cattle into the wars. No man could kill another, and even women were of value, and children were beloved. It seemed to me a world of peace, and sunshine ana safety!" You dreamed of heavenl" said the lis tener, her incredulous laughter changed to wistful awe. The other sighed and shook her head
 ''No,' she said sadly, flor in that coun- try they were all mad!'
 "Mad?' came the astonished echo. Well, better our hardships than such a state. Better the village well that poisons our children. and the tax that holds our men in bondage. and the pestilences that sweep us! Better the dark houses, and | the smoking coal fires, the heats of sum- mer and the freezing winters, better even the agony and terror of bearing, un- 1 helped. But tell me, how were they mad?"
 They do not see the sunshine, they l do not hear the music and they do not l taste their freedom" said the dreamer. l Their thoughts are chained to little | things-the stitches in skirt, the chopped I nuts that must go into a dish they cook, | the shape of a chair. They long for idle ness-who have nothing to do! They long | might be heaven! They look at this one l enviously because her picture is printed
 in the books they read. They weep be- cause they must buy flax spun on their
 side of the ocean rather than that which comes to them in ships, and they weer because the papers they have pasted on | the walls of their rooms are too greer | or too blue,'
 'Mad-quite mad" agreed the neighbor struck. Did they live long ago?" 1 No their time has not yet come" the ! dreaming woman answered. They will
 not live for another thousand years. They
 will spring from us, who live and work
 and die without the touch of fine linen on our bodies, or the help of a single | hand with the planting and roasting and spining and brewing, the bearing and rearing. We are their mothers, who vii never read a book, or write letter, CT
 enter a playhouse. Let us make them a l New Years wish, that their eyes may
 be opened and that they may see. | They knelt down together.