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   Chapter 12 ACHIEVEMENTS.

The Man-Made World; Or, Our Androcentric Culture By Charlotte Perkins Gilman Characters: 36490

Updated: 2017-12-01 00:02

There are some folk born to beauty,

And some to plenteous gold,

Some who are proud of being young,

Some proud of being old.

Some who are glad of happy love,

Enduring, deep and true,

And some who thoroughly enjoy

The little things they do.

Upon all this Grandma Pettigrew cast an observant eye, and meditated sagely thereupon. Coming to a decision, she first took a course of reading in some of Dr. Bellair's big books, and then developed a series of perplexing symptoms, not of a too poignant or perilous nature, that took her to Dr. Hale's office frequently.

"You haven't repudiated Dr. Bellair, have you?" he asked her.

"I have never consulted Jane Bellair as a physician," she replied, "though I esteem her much as a friend."

The old lady's company was always welcome to him; he liked her penetrating eye, her close-lipped, sharp remarks, and appreciated the real kindness of her heart.

If he had known how closely she was peering into the locked recesses of his own, and how much she saw there, he would perhaps have avoided her as he did Vivian, and if he had known further that this ingenious old lady, pursuing long genealogical discussions with him, had finally unearthed a mutual old-time friend, and had forthwith started a correspondence with that friend, based on this common acquaintance in Carston, he might have left that city.

The old-time friend, baited by Mrs. Pettigrew's innocent comment on Dr. Hale's persistence in single blessedness, poured forth what she knew of the cause with no more embellishment than time is sure to give.

"I know why he won't marry," wrote she. "He had reason good to begin with, but I never dreamed he'd be obstinate enough to keep it up sixteen years. When he was a boy in college here I knew him well-he was a splendid fellow, one of the very finest. But he fell desperately in love with that beautiful Mrs. James-don't you remember about her? She married a St. Cloud later, and he left her, I think. She was as lovely as a cameo-and as hard and flat. That woman was the saintliest thing that ever breathed. She wouldn't live with her husband because he had done something wrong; she wouldn't get a divorce, nor let him, because that was wicked-and she always had a string of boys round her, and talked about the moral influence she had on them.

"Young Hale worshipped her-simply worshipped her-and she let him. She let them all. She had that much that was god-like about her-she loved incense. You need not ask for particulars. She was far too 'particular' for that. But one light-headed chap went and drowned himself-that was all hushed up, of course, but some of us felt pretty sure why. He was a half-brother to Dick Hale, and Dick was awfully fond of him. Then he turned hard and hateful all at once-used to talk horrid about women. He kept straight enough-that's easy for a mysogynist, and studying medicine didn't help him any-doctors and ministers know too much about women. So there you are. But I'm astonished to hear he's never gotten over it; he always was obstinate-it's his only fault. They say he swore never to marry-if he did, that accounts. Do give my regards if you see him again."

Mrs. Pettigrew considered long and deeply over this information, as she slowly produced a jersey striped with Roman vividness. It was noticeable in this new life in Carston that Mrs. Pettigrew's knitted jackets had grown steadily brighter in hue from month to month. Whereas, in Bainville, purple and brown were the high lights, and black, slate and navy blue the main colors; now her worsteds were as a painter's palette, and the result not only cheered, but bade fair to inebriate.

"A pig-headed man," she said to herself, as her needle prodded steadily in and out; "a pig-headed man, with a pig-headedness of sixteen years' standing. His hair must 'a turned gray from the strain of it. And there's Vivian, biddin' fair to be an old maid after all. What on earth!" She appeared to have forgotten that marriages are made in heaven, or to disregard that saying. "The Lord helps those that help themselves," was one of her favorite mottoes. "And much more those that help other people!" she used to add.

Flitting in and out of Dr. Hale's at all hours, she noted that he had a fondness for music, with a phenomenal incapacity to produce any. He encouraged his boys to play on any and every instrument the town afforded, and to sing, whether they could or not; and seemed never to weary of their attempts, though far from satisfied with the product.

"Huh!" said Mrs. Pettigrew.

Vivian could play, "Well enough to know better," she said, and seldom touched the piano. She had a deep, full, contralto voice, and a fair degree of training. But she would never make music unless she felt like it-and in this busy life, with so many people about her, she had always refused.

Grandma meditated.

She selected an evening when most of the boarders were out at some entertainment, and selfishly begged Vivian to stay at home with her-said she was feeling badly and wanted company. Grandma so seldom wanted anything that Vivian readily acquiesced; in fact, she was quite worried about her, and asked Dr. Bellair if she thought anything was the matter.

"She has seemed more quiet lately," said that astute lady, "and I've noticed her going in to Dr. Hale's during office hours. But perhaps it's only to visit with him."

"Are you in any pain, Grandma?" asked the girl, affectionately. "You're not sick, are you?"

"O, no-I'm not sick," said the old lady, stoutly. "I'm just-well, I felt sort of lonesome to-night-perhaps I'm homesick."

As she had never shown the faintest sign of any feeling for their deserted home, except caustic criticism and unfavorable comparison, Vivian rather questioned this theory, but she began to think there was something in it when her grandmother, sitting by the window in the spring twilight, began to talk of how this time of year always made her think of her girlhood.

"Time for the March peepers at home. It's early here, and no peepers anywhere that I've heard. 'Bout this time we'd be going to evening meeting. Seems as if I could hear that little old organ-and the singing!"

"Hadn't I better shut that window," asked Vivian. "Won't you get cold?"

"No, indeed," said her grandmother, promptly. "I'm plenty warm-I've got this little shawl around me. And it's so soft and pleasant out."

It was soft and pleasant, a delicious May-like night in March, full of spring scents and hints of coming flowers. On the dark piazza across the way she could make out a still figure sitting alone, and the thump of Balzac's heel as he struggled with his intimate enemies told her who it was.

"Come Ye Disconsolate," she began to hum, most erroneously. "How does that go, Vivian? I was always fond of it, even if I can't sing any more'n a peacock."

Vivian hummed it and gave the words in a low voice.

"That's good!" said the old lady. "I declare, I'm kinder hungry for some of those old hymns. I wish you'd play me some of 'em, Vivian."

So Vivian, glad to please her, woke the yellow keys to softer music than they were accustomed to, and presently her rich, low voice, sure, easy, full of quiet feeling, flowed out on the soft night air.

Grandma was not long content with the hymns. "I want some of those old-fashioned songs-you used to know a lot of 'em. Can't you do that 'Kerry Dance' of Molloy's, and 'Twickenham Ferry'-and 'Lauriger Horatius?'"

Vivian gave her those, and many another, Scotch ballads, English songs and German Lieder-glad to please her grandmother so easily, and quite unconscious of a dark figure which had crossed the street and come silently to sit on the farthest corner of their piazza.

Grandma, meanwhile, watched him, and Vivian as well, and then, with the most unsuspected suddenness, took to her bed. Sciatica, she said. An intermittent pain that came upon her so suddenly she couldn't stand up. She felt much better lying down. And Dr. Hale must attend her unceasingly.

This unlooked for overthrow of the phenomenally active old lady was a great blow to Mr. Skee; he showed real concern and begged to be allowed to see her.

"Why not?" said Mrs. Pettigrew. "It's nothing catching."

She lay, high-pillowed, as stiff and well arranged as a Knight Templar on a tombstone, arrayed for the occasion in a most decorative little dressing sack and ribbony night-cap.

"Why, ma'am," said Mr. Skee, "it's highly becomin' to you to be sick. It leads me to hope it's nothin' serious."

She regarded him enigmatically. "Is Dr. Hale out there, or Vivian?" she inquired in a low voice.

"No, ma'am-they ain't," he replied, after a glance in the next room.

Then he bent a penetrating eye upon her. She met it unflinchingly, but as his smile appeared and grew, its limitless widening spread contagion, and her calm front was broken.

"Elmer Skee," said she, with sudden fury, "you hold your tongue!"

"Ma'am!" he replied, "I have said nothin'-and I don't intend to. But if the throne of Europe was occupied by you, Mrs. Pettigrew, we would have a better managed world."

He proved a most agreeable and steady visitor during this period of confinement, and gave her full accounts of all that went on outside, with occasional irrelevant bursts of merriment which no rebuke from Mrs. Pettigrew seemed wholly to check.

He regaled her with accounts of his continuous consultations with Mrs. St. Cloud, and the wisdom and good taste with which she invariably advised him.

"Don't you admire a Platonic Friendship, Mrs. Pettigrew?"

"I do not!" said the old lady, sharply. "And what's more I don't believe you do."

"Well, ma'am," he answered, swaying backward and forward on the hind legs of his chair, "there are moments when I confess it looks improbable."

Mrs. Pettigrew cocked her head on one side and turned a gimlet eye upon him. "Look here, Elmer Skee," she said suddenly, "how much money have you really got?"

He brought down his chair on four legs and regarded her for a few moments, his smile widening slowly. "Well, ma'am, if I live through the necessary expenses involved on my present undertaking, I shall have about two thousand a year-if rents are steady."

"Which I judge you do not wish to be known?"

"If there's one thing more than another I have always admired in you, ma'am, it is the excellence of your judgment. In it I have absolute confidence."

Mrs. St. Cloud had some time since summoned Dr. Hale to her side for a severe headache, but he had merely sent word that his time was fully occupied, and recommended Dr. Bellair.

Now, observing Mrs. Pettigrew's tactics, the fair invalid resolved to take the bull by the horns and go herself to his office. She found him easily enough. He lifted his eyes as she entered, rose and stood with folded arms regarding her silently. The tall, heavy figure, the full beard, the glasses, confused even her excellent memory. After all it was many years since they had met, and he had been but one of a multitude.

She was all sweetness and gentle apology for forcing herself upon him, but really she had a little prejudice against women doctors-his reputation was so great-he was so temptingly near-she was in such pain-she had such perfect confidence in him-

He sat down quietly and listened, watching her from under his bent brows. Her eyes were dropped, her voice very weak and appealing; her words most perfectly chosen.

"I have told you," he said at length, "that I never treat women for their petty ailments, if I can avoid it."

She shook her head in grieved acceptance, and lifted large eyes for one of those penetrating sympathetic glances so frequently successful.

"How you must have suffered!" she said.

"I have," he replied grimly. "I have suffered a long time from having my eyes opened too suddenly to the brainless cruelty of women, Mrs. James."

She looked at him again, searchingly, and gave a little cry. "Dick Hale!" she said.

"Yes, Dick Hale. Brother to poor little Joe Medway, whose foolish young heart you broke, among others; whose death you are responsible for."

She was looking at him with widening wet eyes. "Ah! If you only knew how I, too, have suffered over that!" she said. "I was scarce more than a girl myself, then. I was careless, not heartless. No one knew what pain I was bearing, then. I liked the admiration of those nice boys-I never realized any of them would take it seriously. That has been a heavy shadow on my life, Dr. Hale-the fear that I was the thoughtless cause of that terrible thing. And you have never forgiven me. I do not wonder."

He was looking at her in grim silence again, wishing he had not spoken.

"So that is why you have never been to The Cottonwoods since I came," she pursued. "And I am responsible for all your loneliness. O, how dreadful!"

Again he rose to his feet.

"No, madam, you mistake. You were responsible for my brother's death, and for a bitter awakening on my part, but you are in no way responsible for my attitude since. That is wholly due to myself. Allow me again to recommend Dr. Jane Bellair, an excellent physician and even more accessible."

He held the door for her, and she went out, not wholly dissatisfied with her visit. She would have been far more displeased could she have followed his thoughts afterward.

"What a Consummate Ass I have been all my life!" he was meditating. "Because I met this particular type of sex parasite, to deliberately go sour-and forego all chance of happiness. Like a silly girl. A fool girl who says, 'I will never marry!' just because of some quarrel * * * But the girl never keeps her word. A man must."

The days were long to Vivian now, and dragged a little, for all her industry.

Mrs. St. Cloud tried to revive their former intimacy, but the girl could not renew it on the same basis. She, too, had sympathized with Mr. Dykeman, and now sympathized somewhat with Mr. Skee. But since that worthy man still volubly discoursed on Platonism, and his fair friend openly agreed in this view, there seemed no real ground for distress.

Mrs. Pettigrew remained ailing and rather captious. She had a telephone put at her bedside, and ran her household affairs efficiently, with Vivian as lieutenant, and the ever-faithful Jeanne to uphold the honor of the cuisine. Also she could consult her physician, and demanded his presence at all hours.

He openly ignored Mrs. St. Cloud now, who met his rude treatment with secret, uncomplaining patience.

Vivian spoke of this. "I do not see why he need be so rude, Grandma. He may hate women, but I don't see why he should treat her so shamefully."

"Well, I do," replied the invalid, "and what's more I'm going to show you; I've always disliked that woman, and now I know why. I'd turn her out of the house if it wasn't for Elmer Skee. That man's as good as gold under all his foolishness, and if he can get any satisfaction out of that meringue he's welcome. Dr. Hale doesn't hate women, child, but a woman broke his heart once-and then he made an idiot of himself by vowing never to marry."

She showed her friend's letter, and Vivian read it with rising color. "O, Grandma! Why that's worse than I ever thought-even after what Dr. Bellair told us. And it was his brother! No wonder he's so fond of boys. He tries to warn them, I suppose."

"Yes, and the worst of it is that he's really got over his grouch; and he's in love-but tied down by that foolish oath, poor man."

"Is he, Grandma? How do you know? With whom?"

"You dear, blind child!" said the old lady, "with you, of course. Has been ever since we came."

The girl sat silent, a strange feeling of joy rising in her heart, as she reviewed the events of the last two years. So that was why he would not stay that night. And that was why. "No wonder he wouldn't come here!" she said at length. "It's on account of that woman. But why did he change?"

"Because she went over there to see him. He wouldn't come to her. I heard her 'phone to him one evening." The old lady chuckled. "So she marched herself over there-I saw her, and I guess she got her needin's. She didn't stay long. And his light burned till morning."

"Do you think he cares for her, still?"

"Cares for her!" The old lady fairly snorted her derision. "He can't bear the sight of her-treats her as if she wasn't there. No, indeed. If he did she'd have him fast enough, now. Well! I suppose he'll repent of that foolishness of his all the days of his life-and stick it out! Poor man."

Mrs. Pettigrew sighed, and Vivian echoed the sigh. She began to observe Dr. Hale with new eyes; to study little matters of tone and manner-and could not deny her grandmother's statement. Nor would she admit it-yet.

The old lady seemed weaker and more irritable, but positively forbade any word of this being sent to her family.

"There's nothing on earth ails me," she said. "Dr. Hale says there's not a thing the matter that he can see-that if I'd only eat more I'd get stronger. I'll be all right soon, my dear. I'll get my appetite and get well, I have faith to believe."

She insisted on his coming over in the evening, when not too busy, and staying till she dropped asleep, and he seemed strangely willing to humor her; sitting for hours in the quiet parlor, while Vivian played softly, and sang her low-toned hymns.

So sitting, one still evening, when for some time no fretful "not so loud" had come from the next room, he turned suddenly to Vivian and asked, almost roughly-"Do you hold a promise binding?-an oath, a vow-to oneself?"

She met his eyes, saw the deep pain there, the long combat, the irrepressible hope and longing.

"Did you swear to keep your oath secret?" she asked.

"Why, no," he said, "I did not. I will tell you. I did not swear never to tell a woman I loved her. I never dreamed I should love again. Vivian, I was fool enough to love a shallow, cruel woman, once, and nearly broke my heart in consequence. That was long years ago. I have never cared for a woman since-till I met you. And now I must pay double for that boy folly."

He came to her and took her hand.


love you," he said, his tense grip hurting her. "I shall love you as long as I live-day and night-forever! You shall know that at any rate!"

She could not raise her eyes. A rich bright color rose to the soft border of her hair. He caught her face in his hands and made her look at him; saw those dark, brilliant eyes softened, tear-filled, asking, and turned sharply away with a muffled cry.

"I have taken a solemn oath," he said in a strained, hard voice, "never to ask a woman to marry me."

He heard a little gasping laugh, and turned upon her. She stood there smiling, her hands reached out to him.

"You don't have to," she said.

* * *

A long time later, upon their happy stillness broke a faint voice from the other room:

"Vivian, I think if you'd bring me some bread and butter-and a cup of tea-and some cold beef and a piece of pie-I could eat it."

* * *

Upon the rapid and complete recovery of her grandmother's health, and the announcement of Vivian's engagement, Mr. and Mrs. Lane decided to make a visit to their distant mother and daughter, hoping as well that Mr. Lane's cough might be better for a visit in that altitude. Mr. and Mrs. Dykeman also sent word of their immediate return.

Jeanne, using subtle powers of suggestion, caused Mrs. Pettigrew to decide upon giving a dinner, in honor of these events. There was the betrothed couple, there were the honored guests; there were Jimmie and Susie, with or without the baby; there were the Dykemans; there was Dr. Bellair, of course; there was Mr. Skee, an even number.

"I'm sorry to spoil that table, but I've got to take in Mrs. St. Cloud," said the old lady.

"O, Grandma! Why! It'll spoil it for Dick."

"Huh!" said her grandmother. "He's so happy you couldn't spoil it with a mummy. If I don't ask her it'll spoil it for Mr. Skee."

So Mrs. St. Cloud made an eleventh at the feast, and neither Mr. Dykeman nor Vivian could find it in their happy hearts to care.

Mr. Skee arose, looking unusually tall and shapely in immaculate every-day dress, his well-brushed hair curling vigorously around the little bald spots; his smile wide and benevolent.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, both Domestic and Foreign, Friends and Fellowtownsmen and Women-Ladies, God Bless 'em; also Children, if any: I feel friendly enough to-night to include the beasts of the fields-but such would be inappropriate at this convivial board-among these convivial boarders.

"This is an occasion of great rejoicing. We have many things to rejoice over, both great and small. We have our healths; all of us, apparently. We are experiencing the joys of reunion-in the matter of visiting parents that is, and long absent daughters.

"We have also the Return of the Native, in the shape of my old friend Andy-now become a Benedict-and seeming to enjoy it. About this same Andy I have a piece of news to give you which will cause you astonishment and gratification, but which involves me in a profuse apology-a most sincere and general apology.

"You know how a year or more ago it was put about in this town that Andrew Dykeman was a ruined man?" Mrs. St. Cloud darted a swift glance at Mr. Dykeman, but his eyes rested calmly on his wife; then at Mr. Skee-but he was pursuing his remorseful way.

"I do not wish to blame my friend Andy for his reticence-but he certainly did exhibit reticence on this occasion-to beat the band! He never contradicted this rumor-not once. He just went about looking kind o' down in the mouth for some reason or other, and when for the sake o' Auld Lang Syne I offered him a job in my office-the cuss took it! I won't call this deceitful, but it sure was reticent to a degree.

"Well, Ladies-and Gentlemen-the best of us are liable to mistakes, and I have to admit-I am glad to humble myself and make this public admission-I was entirely in error in this matter.

"It wasn't so. There was nothing in it. It was rumor, pure and simple. Andy Dykeman never lost no mine, it appears; or else he had another up his sleeve concealed from his best friends. Anyhow, the facts are these; not only that A. Dykeman as he sits before you is a prosperous and wealthy citizen, but that he has been, for these ten years back, and we were all misled by a mixture of rumor and reticence. If he has concealed these facts from the wife of his bosom I submit that that is carrying reticence too far!" Again Mrs. St. Cloud sent a swift glance at the reticent one, and again caught only his tender apologetic look toward his wife, and her utter amazement.

Mr. Dykeman rose to his feet.

"I make no apologies for interrupting my friend," he said. "It is necessary at times. He at least can never be accused of reticence. Neither do I make apologies for letting rumor take its course-a course often interesting to observe. But I do apologize-in this heartfelt and public manner, to my wife, for marrying her under false pretenses. But any of you gentlemen who have ever had any experience in the attitude of," he hesitated mercifully, and said, "the World, toward a man with money, may understand what it meant to me, after many years of bachelorhood, to find a heart that not only loved me for myself alone, but absolutely loved me better because I'd lost my money-or she thought I had. I have hated to break the charm. But now my unreticent friend here has stated the facts, and I make my confession. Will you forgive me, Orella?"

"Speech! Speech!" cried Mr. Skee. But Mrs. Dykeman could not be persuaded to do anything but blush and smile and squeeze her husband's hand under the table, and Mr. Skee arose once more.

"This revelation being accomplished," he continued cheerfully; "and no one any the worse for it, as I see," he was not looking in the direction of Mrs. St. Cloud, whose slippered foot beat softly under the table, though her face wore its usual sweet expression, possibly a trifle strained; "I now proceed to a proclamation of that happy event to celebrate which we are here gathered together. I allude to the Betrothal of Our Esteemed Friend, Dr. Richard Hale, and the Fairest of the Fair! Regarding the Fair, we think he has chosen well. But regarding Dick Hale, his good fortune is so clear, so evidently undeserved, and his pride and enjoyment thereof so ostentatious, as to leave us some leeway to make remarks.

"Natural remarks, irresistible remarks, as you might say, and not intended to be acrimonious. Namely, such as these: It's a long lane that has no turning; There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip; The worm will turn; The pitcher that goes too often to the well gets broken at last; Better Late than Never. And so on and so forth. Any other gentleman like to make remarks on this topic?"

Dr. Hale rose, towering to his feet.

"I think I'd better make them," he said. "No one else could so fully, so heartily, with such perfect knowledge point out how many kinds of a fool I've been for all these years. And yet of them all there are only two that I regret-this last two in which if I had been wiser, perhaps I might have found my happiness sooner. As that cannot be proven, however, I will content myself with the general acknowledgment that Bachelors are Misguided Bats, I myself having long been the worst instance; women, in general, are to be loved and honored; and that I am proud and glad to accept your congratulations because the sweetest and noblest woman in the world has honored me with her love."

"I never dreamed you could put so many words together, Doc-and really make sense!" said Mr. Skee, genially, as he rose once more. "You certainly show a proper spirit at last, and all is forgiven. But now, my friends; now if your attention is not exhausted, I have yet another Event to confide to you."

Mr. and Mrs. Lane wore an aspect of polite interest. Susie and Jim looked at each other with a sad but resigned expression. So did Mrs. Dykeman and her husband. Vivian's hand was in her lover's and she could not look unhappy, but they, too, deprecated this last announcement, only too well anticipated. Only Mrs. St. Cloud, her fair face bowed in gentle confusion, showed anticipating pleasure.

Mr. Skee waved his hand toward her with a large and graceful gesture.

"You must all of you have noticed the amount of Platonic Friendship which has been going on for some time between my undeserving self and this lovely lady here. Among so many lovely ladies perhaps I'd better specify that I refer to the one on my left.

"What she has been to me, in my lonely old age, none of you perhaps realize." He wore an expression as of one long exiled, knowing no one who could speak his language.

"She has been my guide, counsellor and friend; she has assisted me with advice most wise and judicious; she has not interfered with my habits, but has allowed me to enjoy life in my own way, with the added attraction of her companionship.

"Now, I dare say, there may have been some of you who have questioned my assertion that this friendship was purely Platonic. Perhaps even the lady herself, knowing the heart of man, may have doubted if my feeling toward her was really friendship."

Mr. Skee turned his head a little to one side and regarded her with a tender inquiring smile.

To this she responded sweetly: "Why no, Mr. Skee, of course, I believed what you said."

"There, now," said he, admiringly. "What is so noble as the soul of woman? It is to this noble soul in particular, and to all my friends here in general, that I now confide the crowning glory of a long and checkered career, namely, and to wit, that I am engaged to be married to that Peerless Lady, Mrs. Servilla Pettigrew, of whose remarkable capacities and achievements I can never sufficiently express my admiration."

A silence fell upon the table. Mr. Skee sat down smiling, evidently in cheerful expectation of congratulations. Mrs. Pettigrew wore an alert expression, as of a skilled fencer preparing to turn any offered thrusts. Mrs. St. Cloud seemed to be struggling with some emotion, which shook her usual sweet serenity. The others, too, were visibly affected, and not quick to respond.

Then did Mr. Saunders arise with real good nature and ever-ready wit; and pour forth good-humored nonsense with congratulations all around, till a pleasant atmosphere was established, in which Mrs. St. Cloud could so far recover as to say many proper and pretty things; sadly adding that she regretted her imminent return to the East would end so many pleasant friendships.

* * *

* * *

* * *


Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Moving the Mountain.

A Utopia at short range. How we might change this country in thirty years, if we changed our minds first. Mrs. Gilman's latest book, like her earliest verse, is a protest against the parrot cry that "you can't alter human nature."

By mail of Charlton Co. $1.10

What Diantha Did.

A Novel.

"What she did was to solve the domestic service problem for both mistress and maid in a southern California town."

"The Survey."

"A sensible book, it gives a new and deserved comprehension of the importance and complexity of housekeeping."

"The Independent."

"Mrs. Perkins Gilman is as full of ideas as ever, and her Diantha is a model for all young women."

"The Englishwoman."

By mail of Charlton Co. $1.10

The Man-Made World.

"We defy any thoughtful person to read this book of Mrs. Gilman, and not be moved to or towards conviction, whether he acknowledges it or not."

"San Francisco Star."

"Mrs. Gilman has presented in this work the results of her thought, study, and observation of the much debated question of the relation of man to woman and of woman to man. The subject is developed with much wise argument and wholesome sense of humor."

"The Craftsman."

"Mrs. Gilman has applied her theory with much cleverness, consistency and logical thinking."

"Chicago Evening Post."

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There is a joyous superabundance of life, of strength, of health, in Mrs. Gilman's verse, which seems born of the glorious sunshine and rich gardens of California.

-Washington Times.

The freshness, charm and geniality of her satire temporarily convert us to her most advanced views.

-Boston Journal.

The poet of women and for women, a new and prophetic voice in the world. Montaigne would have rejoiced in her.

-Mexican Herald.

By mail of Charlton Co., $1.25.


Indeed, Mrs. Gilman has not intended her book so much as a treatise for scholars as a surgical operation on the popular mind.

-The Critic, New York.

Whatever Mrs. Gilman writes, people read-approving or protesting, still they read.

-Republican, Springfield, Mass.

Full of thought and of new and striking suggestions. Tells what the average woman has and ought not keep, what she is and ought not be.

-Literature World.

But it is safe to say that no more stimulating arraignment has ever before taken shape and that the argument of the book is noble, and, on the whole, convincing.

-Congregationalist, Boston.

The name of this author is a guarantee of logical reasoning, sound economical principles and progressive thought.

-The Craftsman, Syracuse.

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"The Home" has been translated into Swedish.


Since John Stuart Mill's essay there has been no book dealing with the whole position of women to approach it in originality of conception and brilliancy of exposition.

-London Chronicle.

The most significant utterance on the subject since Mill's "Subjection of Women."

-The Nation.

It is the strongest book on the woman question that has yet been published.

-Minneapolis Journal.

A remarkable book. A work on economics that has not a dull page,-the work of a woman about women that has not a flippant word.

-Boston Transcript.

This book unites in a remarkable degree the charm of a brilliantly written essay with the inevitable logic of a proposition of Euclid. Nothing that we have read for many a long day can approach in clearness of conception, in power of arrangement, and in lucidity of expression the argument developed in the first seven chapters of this remarkable book.

-Westminster Gazette, London.

Will be widely read and discussed as the cleverest, fairest, most forcible presentation of the view of the rapidly increasing group who look with favor on the extension of industrial employment to women.

-Political Science Quarterly.

By mail of Charlton Co., $1.50.

"Women and Economics" has been translated into German, Dutch, Italian, Hungarian, Russian and Japanese.


Wanted:-A philanthropist, to give a copy to every English-speaking parent.

-The Times, New York.

Should be read by every mother in the land.

-The Press, New York.

Wholesomely disturbing book that deserves to be read for its own sake.

-Chicago Dial.

By mail of Charlton Co., $1.25.

"Concerning Children" has been translated into German, Dutch and Yiddish.


Worthy of a place beside some of the weird masterpieces of Hawthorne and Poe.


As a short story it stands among the most powerful produced in America.

-Chicago News.

By mail of Charlton Co., $0.50.


Charlotte Perkins Gilman has added a third to her great trilogy of books on economic subjects as they affect our daily life, particularly in the home. Mrs. Gilman is by far the most brilliant woman writer of our day, and this new volume, which she calls "Human Work," is a glorification of labor.

-New Orleans Picayune.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman has been writing a new book, entitled "Human Work." It is the best thing that Mrs. Gilman has done, and it is meant to focus all of her previous work, so to speak.

-Tribune, Chicago.

In her latest volume, "Human Work," Charlotte Perkins Gilman places herself among the foremost students and elucidators of the problem of social economics.

-San Francisco Star.

It is impossible to overestimate the value of the insistence on the social aspect of human affairs as Mrs. Gilman has outlined it.

-Public Opinion.

By mail of Charlton Co., $1.00.

CHARLTON COMPANY, 67 Wall St., New York

* * *


A monthly magazine, written,

edited, owned and published


Charlotte Perkins Gilman

67 Wall Street, New York City

U. S. A.


Domestic $1.00

Canadian 1.12

Foreign 1.25

Bound Volumes, each year $1.40 post paid

This magazine carries Mrs. Gilman's best and newest work, her social philosophy, verse, satire, fiction, ethical teaching, humor and opinion.

It stands for Humanness in Women and Men; for better methods in Child Culture; for the New Ethics, the better Economics-the New World we are to make, are making. The breadth of Mrs. Gilman's thought and her power of expressing it have made her well-known in America and Europe as a leader along lines of human improvement and a champion of woman.

THE FORERUNNER voices her thought and its messages are not only many, but strong, true and vital.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Transcription Notes:

The original spelling and minor inconsistencies in the spelling and formatting have been retained.

Minor punctuation . , ; " ' changes have been made without annotation.

Other changes to the original text are listed as follows:

Page 2 Man-made/Man-Made: The Man-Made World

Page 45 evclaimed/exclaimed: exclaimed his wife

Page 110 Removed repeated word a: were a real

Page 115 who/why: why his hair's

Page 134 though/thought: I thought as much

Page 164 Mr./My: My dear Miss

Page 169 Removed repeated word and: her own and set it

Page 174 removed redundant word a: he had not had

Page 194 though/thought: I thought I heard

Page 197 litle/little: a little dampened

Page 240 weedings/weddings: wooings and weddings

Page 260 irrestible/irresistible: irresistible from self-enforced

Page 261 Cottonwood/Cottonwoods: to The Cottonwoods

Page 285 busband/husband: live with her husband

Page 317 massages/messages: its messages are not only

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