hat by her refusal she might be doing
her daughter a great injustice, she said, sharply: "It would be better
for her to starve trying to lead an honorable life, than to be exposed
to such publicity and such awful temptations." And thus, in ignorance
of what the future had in store for her child, did she close the door
on a golden opportunity for developing her greatest talent, and the
young person's first dream of freedom and a fascinating career had
come to grief. As she reviewed her disappointment and the dreary days
that followed, a flood of self-pity welled up in the girl's heart, and
she felt as if she must do something desperate to quiet her restless
nature.

Fortunately the disappointment was followed by a welcome change of
scene, for mother and daughter left Cleveland and went to try their
fortunes in what was then "the far west." After a long trip by rail
and a thirty-mile drive across the prairie, they arrived at their
journey's end, and the marvelous quiet of the early May night in the
country soothed the older woman's sore heart and filled the child with
the joy of a real adventure.

They remained in that beautiful world beyond the prairie for two
years, and never did the charm of the backwoods's life pall on the
growing girl, who did not miss the city sights and sounds, but exulted
in the new experiences as, "with the other children on the farm, she
dropped corn in the sun-warmed furrows, while a man followed behind
with a hoe covering it up; and when it had sprouted and was a tempting
morsel for certain black robbers of the field, she made a very active
and energetic young scarecrow."

While the out-of-door life was a fine thing for the young person,
still more to her advantage was it that she was now thrown with other
children, who were happy, hearty, rollicking youngsters, and, seeing
that the stranger was new to farm-life, had rare fun at her expense.
For instance, as she later told:

"They led me forth to a pasture, shortly after our arrival at the
farm, and, catching a horse, they hoisted me up on to its bare,
slippery back. I have learned a good bit about horses since then," she
says, "have hired, borrowed and bought them, but never since have I
seen a horse of such appalling aspect. His eyes were the size of
soup-plates, large clouds of smoke came from his nostrils. He had a
glass-enamelled surface, and if he was half as tall as he felt, some
museum manager missed a fortune. Then the young fien