Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 January 1910 — Ether [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Ether

1 found myself ln a little brown bout, on u wide, blue sea that began und ended in the round of the sky. The bout had no oars or sail, but it went swiftly, cutting a white track upon the swelling waters. The sun made u golden blaze, and a salt breeze trfew. I felt cleansed by the sun and ulr, und the soils of life seemed washed from me and my memory. The last to go was a numbness in my head; as If I was being hurt without feeling it. When the numbness was gone I laughed; and the blue swell leapt at the boat as if It answered. Presently a green island rose out of the sea and grew against the sky; a long, sloping hillside, covered with a carpet of flowers and grasses, and fringed with a border of glistening sand —many-colored, sand, like tiny moonstones. A creek of smooth sap phlre water ran into the breast of the mountain, and ended ln a pool overhung by weeping willows. The little boat took me there, moving slowly now, and with a pleasant ripple. A long tree-trunk lay along one bank, like a quay. Another little boat rested beside It. A woman ln a flowing white robe sat upon the trunk, with her sandalled feet upon the boat. She was bright like the sea, and the breeze, und the flowers of the wonderful island—as If she had come fresh from the mint of creation —and she looked up and smiled at me without boldness or shyness; and I left my boat splashing in the water, and sift beside her. “What place Is this?” I asked. **l do not know,” she answered. Her voice was fresh, like everything else. “I have Just come.” "Where did you come from?" "I do not know. And you?" "I do not know either,” .1 told her, “but I think we have Just died.” "Yea,” she agreed. "I think so; and I think this Is our new life.” "Like Adam and Eve,” I suggested; und she smiled and nodded. “We will call each other that.” she assented; and we looked at each other for a long while. "You are very beautiful. Eve," I said. "Am I?” She clapped her hands und laughed. “I was wondering!” “I shall like you reigr much,” I told her. f "I shall like you, too, of course,” she said, with a soft look ln her eyes. "That Is why we came here, I think. I saw your eyes call me.” "I remember that,” I said. "I did set like to go alone; and you looked so sorry for me, and —I do not remember anything else. I must try to remembur." I set my Ups and frowned; but I could not remember; and presently she touched my arm. "Does it matter?” she asked; and I looked Into her deep brown eyes. "No,” I said. “It does not matter. Eve. We will make this new world happy for each other. Still, should like to remember.” "I am happy,” the said, “and I do not want te remember; and I do not want you to remember, Adam." “Dear Adam,” I corrected. "I meant that, of course. You are very dear te me. That Is why I do not want you te remember. You might find something dearer ln your memory, perhaps another Eve. You must never remember. Adam. When I eay that” —eke smiled at me—"l always mean •dear Adam."’ “Dearest Eve. I cannot help If I remember. or do not remember." » "Ah! But you can. There Is a tree. There was one In another garden; and the other Eve was curious—the first Eve—and she tasted it; and she showed It te Adam. Afterwards be knew more than die. or tbe knowledge made more difference to him—l think It was that—and she was sorry. Women were always sorry afterwards. So I si tail not show you the tree." "You know It, then?" I asked. “Te*-1 —I think so." Btoe looked flown at her feet

”How did you find out?” “Something whispered. It said that it would not hart me to know. I expect that is right, because —because I should always like you so much that It wouldn’t matter. Men are different. When they know ” She shook her head. “There Is no one else here; but you might wish there was—ls you remembered.” “You seem to be very wise, Eve,” I said. “I think, when you went and looked at the tree—didn't you taste It?” She rose hastily. “Let us go and look at the Island,” she said. But I caught her by the arm. “Did you. Ever’ I asked. “Nb-o,” she said slowly. “At least Do come and look at the Island, Adam.” “Look at me. Eve,” I said; and when she turned her head away, I took her face between my hands, and held It In front of mine. “I never will again,” she said, “and —please kiss me, Adam.” % I kissed her, and wo wandered through the groves with our arms round each other, and ate berries, and drank from a little spring that flowed from the rocks. We made cups with our hands, and gave the water to each other. - "Do you remember If we knew each other before, dearest Eve?” I asked. “In the world where we lived?” But she ghook her head. “No," she said, “I do not remember. It was a great world of many people, I think; and they did not really know each other often; not as we do. If we went back there we might not know that we were meant for each other, might not find each other. That Is why Ido not want to go back. I think we shall be happy together, because Do you not like to kiss me, Adam?” I kissed her. “I like to,” I said, "Then you always may,” she assured me. m . "You may, too," I offered; but she Bhook her head. “Oh, no?” she said. “Not—not unless you ask me.” "Did the tree tell you that?" I asked. “I don’t want to talk about the tree,” she said. “You mustn't, Adam. If you do ” She flung herself into my arms suddenly, and bunt Into tears. “If you do, you will go back, back to the world where —where you might not find meA I stroked her hair, and comforted her. “I don’t want to go back, Eve,” I said. “We won’t talk about It any more. But ff I went back, and found you? Would It matter, then?” “Of course not! If you found me—nothing could matter then. But I am so afraid you wouldn’t. Let ua go and pick those flowers, Adam. You shall put them In my hair; and I will kiss you for them.” “May you kiss me. if I give you flowers?” I asked. She laughafl at me, with- her head on one side, showing her white teeth; and I was sure that. In the world we came from, there was no one so beautiful. “I am going to,” she said. And I picked the flowers, and put them In her pretty hair, and she kissed me; and we went hand In hand through the wonderful Island singing. And this was s song that she sang: O little tinging bird, O little emlllng rose. The world la Just one word— A woman knows! O mother earth so tall, O mighty rolling deeps, The secret of it all , A woman keeps O sun and moon and sky. And blinking stars above. You* know no mors than I— '* -- i -( “It Is a pretty tong.” I said, “but what !■ the secret? And why do you oiily hum It? The last word?” "Because you must guess it,” she said. “But you can’t" "Well,” I said, "1 don’t want to. I don’t suppose I should agree, because I know what 1 think beat about this I new world.”

“What Is that?” she enquired, with her head on one side. ’’You. ot course,” I told her. “You are bo very beautiful.” And then she shook my arm and laughed at me. “You will find out some day, Adam!” she declared. “Let us go and gather more flowers; and you shall put them in my hair.” “And you will kiss me then?” I asked. "Why, yes!" said she. I thought the kissing had something to do with the secret. So, whe/never we came to flowers, I gathered them and put them in her hair, because I wanted to learn the secret; and because It was such a strange new pelnsure to kiss her, and ah# looked so pleased to be kissed. She sang the song many times, bat always stopped at the last word and smiled; and when I wanted to know what ..It was, she hung on to my arm and laughed up at me. “Do you think I am nice, Adam?” she asked. “Yes,” I said. “I like you. Eve. You. are beautiful.” “That la because I have pretty flowers lb my hair,” she told me. “Shall I find some more?” I suggested. “Yes,” she agreed; and laughed again. We walked round the Island till the sun grew low. We came back to the pool where we had landed, Just as the great yellow disc sank below the horizon, and the red flooded the sea. Our boats rocked In the pool and the water lapped the edge, and rustled the sand of many-colored moonstones. The birds twittered as they went to their nests, and the willows wayed softly over the water; and • Eve sat with her chin on her hands, looking at it; and I sat and looked at her. Her eyes were deep and thoughtful; but mine were restless. And presently she put out her hand and I took It. “What is it, dear Eve?” I asked. “I want you to think of me as I think of you,” she said, with a tearful softness In. bur voice. “I like you very much,” I told her, "better than the sea, or the flowers, or anything." "Why?” she asked. "You can talk, and they cannot.” She shrugged her shoulders. "Would you like the flowers as well as me If they could talk?” she demanded. “No,” I said. “They would not he so beautiful; and perhaps they would not like me so well.” “No, 1 ' she said. “No one would- . Suppose there was another—another Eve? Would you like her as well?” “How can I tell without seeing her?” I asked, and Eve gave a sharp cry. “I should never like anyone else so well as you,” she said. “Besides —like Isn’t I®e word, Adam.” “Isn’t it?’’. I asked. She shook her head. “Is it —the word that you won’t say?” She nodded. , “Do you want to know the word?” she asked. “Yes,” I said; and she sighed. “Come," she commanded, and we wandered round the edge of the pool together, and came to a little low tree, with fruit like cherries and she and. so did I; and suddenly the world seemed to change, and I; and my heart felt big with my liking toward her. “The word Is—love! ’’ I cried. “Dear Eve! I love you!" "Dear Adam!” she answered. "I love you—so much!’’ We stood folded in each other’s arms till the moon rose out of the waters. The twittering of the birds ceased, and the waves grew still, and no longer lashed the moon-hand up and down the shore. It was so quiet that we could oount our heart-beats, and they sounded louder and louder; and then there was a ripple In the water, and the boats drew slowly near to" us; and Eve gave a cry, and so did I. "Adam!" she walled. “Dear Adam! I must go Ln the boat alone, back to the other world. And you must follow. We have loet our Eden —till you find me. If you do not find me! Or if we find each other and do not know? We shall think that this was only a dream, and be afraid to speak of It Our Ups will be closed to each other, and our lives— O Adam!” “We will not go,” I cried, fiercely; but the boats grounded on the beach, and our arras fell from each other, and I knew that we must go—alone! "We will remember!" I declared, as 1 helped her Into the boat; for she sobbed so that she could scarcely stand. “What shall I say to tell you that I remember?" “Give me—flowers," she gasped. “Put them—ln —my hair Good-by! Oh! Kiss me, Adam! If we never meet —" “We will meet," I vowed. “I know we Shall meet." “But we may not remember, t>r understand T” “We shall remember and understand,” I declared. “Good-bye—my Eve!" “Good-by Oh. Adam!” Her boat went slowly across the pool, out at the opening. I watched her sKtfng, e bowed, *fclte •guvs, is the stern; watched till her boat was out of eight. Then I entered mine and we slipped away softly ln the moonlight, away over the tllver-gray sea, going swiftly and more swiftly; and the stars came out and blinked, and s soft breeze blew, and the still see swelled stronger end stronger; end in the moonlight I new the peek of the wonderful Island sink below the horlson; and then the moon went out under s great black aloud, end tile see grew rougher and the Vlad stronger, and white spray flew over l&e prdw ot the boat end blew from U> of

the waves till I seamed to fly t&ixmga a stinging snowstorm. Through the spray a great, black mountain seemed to rise. I thought It was the world of memories. The numbness came ‘back, to my head, and I knew that I was being hurt without feeling it. Then the moon came out again, and I saw a shining, black-gray sea, like dull silver, and a black, rocky doast with little lights dotted about It, and a bright light, high on the cliffs, that flashed and seemed to pierce me. A row of breakers lay Just underneath, and the waves sprang up In sheets of foam. The boat heeded straight for them. I sprang up tad gave a cry. There was a cruel flash from the beacon, and a cruel crash as the boat struck upon the rock; and I went whirling round ln the foam, and the water roared in my ears. S * I opened my eyes, and the ansedthetlst stood beside my bed, smiling his pleasant smile. 1 “ II l"i ii iliiisii successful,” he said. ‘ Uliinfir~aa again in a fortnight. And what did you dream about?" “Adam and Eve," I said, with a little laugh—lt sounded miles away. “It was a great nonsense; but It was pleasant nonsense.” A womans’ voice gave a little cry—and I knew it for Eve’s. I tried to turn on my bed to look; but the anaesthetist had put his hand on my shoulder. “It is Miss Lester,” he said; “the nurse, you know. She fainted Just before you went off, and has only Just come around. So we have bad cur hand? full.” “Yes, you naughty girl,” said the cheery voice of Dr. Ryan, the surgeon. “What do you mean by it, eh?” “I don’t know. I felt as if—l was hypnotized. I am so sorry. I heard a sound like soft crying. When they know they will think I am not fit for—” “Tut, tut,” said Dr. Ryan’s voice. “We aren’t going to tell anybody; and I dare say your patient will forgive you for deserting him. She doesn't do this sort of thing usually, Mr. Redman. She’s my very best nurse. * How are you feeling!’ He came and looked at me. “A little muddled after the*efcher, eh?” -T “I am all right,” I said. “Please ask Miss Lester not to worry, and—l hope she will nurse me.” “Of course she will. Now, Miss Lester! You’d and lie down.” “Ye-es. I will say good-night to Mr. Redman first.” A white face looked down upon me—the face of Eve! And now I-remembered that 1 had watched It as I lay with the 'cone over my mouth, and the world faded, and had wished that it could come with me Into the great unknown. “I am glad that It is over,” she said, with a catch ln her voice. “You will soon be well; and you wlll,not remember my foolishness.” .

I held out my hand—lt seemed to weigh a ton —and ahe took it “I shall remember —everything,” I assured her. “Will you order me some flowers, Dr. Ryan? To come to-mor-row morning, - without fall? A great basket of kowers. I want to give them to Miss Lester." “Yes,” he said, with a laugh. "Yes!" He moved away, talking to the anaesthetist “You will accept them?” I whispered. “Yes,” She answered; and a pink oolor came to her white cheeks. “Yes.” “I wiU put them—ln your hair,” I whispered. “Eve? Do you remember?” “I remember," she said, “and —you Shall put them ln my hair. Goodnight" “Good night dear.” “Dear—good-night.” She turned at the door, and smiled for a moment and was gpne; and I lay and smiled, and listened idly to the doctcys talking. “Strange that she should have fainted.” eeld the surgeon’# voice at the table by the window. “She has plenty of nerve, ae a rule. Ie he anything to her, do you think?" ”1 don’t think eo,” said the voles of the anesthetist “I fancy the apparatus leaked a little. Some people are very susceptible to ether."—Black and White.