"I am not glad till I have known
Life that can lift me from my own;
A loftier level must be won,
A mightier strength to lean upon.

"And heaven draws near as I ascend;
The breeze invites, the stars befriend;
All things are beckoning toward the Best;
I climb to Thee, my God, for rest!"

CHAPTER XX.

WOMEN FICTION WRITERS OF AMERICA.

THE

BY ELLEN OLNEY KIRK.*

HE appointed work of the Colonial woman in America was in itself so original and creative, it called for such free play of faculty, such generous expenditure of the whole strength, moral, intellectual and physical, such skill in invention, such pliant adaptability to the new environment; such woman's wit and love in the re-creation of the conditions of life left behind in the old world, that it could hardly be a subject for wonder if for several generations after this country was settled, the literary instinct scarcely made itself felt. The whole tendency of that early epoch was towards repression of individuality and denial of self-consciousness except as it unfalteringly insisted in taking upon itself burdens of conscience. Then too the natural aptitude of woman for domestic life was supposed to determine her gifts and appoint her occupations. And rightly so, for all the light, order, charm, pleasantness and thrift of the colonies came from the mothers, wives and daughters who could make homes; who could bake, brew, spin, weave, knit and in every way realize the ideal of the virtuous woman in Scripture.

Nevertheless, that in spite of the incessant occupations, the wear and tear, the sordid calculations of every-day life, the literary impulse did exist in the woman of that period, giving incentive to brain and heart and a sense of expansion to life, is made clear by numerous bundles of old family letters, journals and narratives, which often in short passages and vivid phrases disclose the unmistakable mint-mark of talent. Many too of those demure and decorous colonial dames in their caps and frills could turn verses with no little skill, generally

* Author of "The Story of Margaret Kent," "Queen Money," "Sons and Daughters," etc.

taking by preference Pope's heroic couplet for their measure. There is indeed to be found many a hint in old records that, in spite of their quaint speech and their rigid orthodoxy, they were in essentials exactly like the women of to-day, with a knack of gracefully adjusting the transient to the eternal and the eternal to the transient; keen of eye, fond of color, with a good share of creative poetic understanding, and with a fresh interest in things and ideas for their own sake. Not a few women in New England and in Philadelphia were as carefully educated in Latin and Greek and perhaps Hebrew as the girl-graduates of our own epoch, and here and there one was to be found with high attainments in mathematics. The feminine native wit and insight into character and motives which in their descendants was to make novelists, they no doubt spent in giving spirit to observation and spice to talk. Leaving novel-writing out of the question there was little novel-reading in those days, all creations of fancy being considered at once trivial and mischievous. If fiction enjoyed a lease of existence at all it must be by virtue of a story inculcating moral and religious truths.

Still, in spite of all dogmatic decrees, imagination did exist, and it would be interesting to discern the signs of the earliest gropings of crude talent in search of its aim. Not until the latter half of the eighteenth century do we find the woman authors to whom can be ascribed the glory of lighting and passing on the torch. Hannah Webster Foster, born in Boston in 1759, was the author of "A Coquette, or the History of Eliza Wharton," also of "The BoardingSchool." Susannah Rawson, born in 1761, the daughter of a lieutenant of the Royal Navy and the wife of an army officer, wrote many books, several of them novels, of which one, "Charlotte. Temple," in its day enjoyed wide popularity and may still be found in old libraries. Mrs. Rawson, besides being a voluminous author, passed through a life of many phases, acting on the dramatic stage and finally carrying on for many years a girl's school at Medford, Mass. Miss Eliza Leslie may be called the link between those early days and our own. Born in 1787, in Philadelphia, from which city flowed in early days, no matter how it has since diverged, the wellspring of literary impulse, she enjoyed many social advantages, her father being the intimate friend of Washington and sent by him on