The Forerunner, Volume 1 (1909 1910)

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A FRIENDLY RESPONSE

The editor wishes to acknowledge with cordial thanks the warm response
to the appeal to subscribers to "renew, and get another."

They are doing it, quite rapidly, and only three or four--so far--have
discontinued. One of these did it twice! Evidently The Forerunner was
_non persona grata_ there.

We begin to feel that we have more friends--and warmer ones--than at
first appeared.

OUR BOUND VOLUME AS A CHRISTMAS PRESENT

The first year comprises fourteen issues--November, 1909, to December,
1910, inclusive.

In it is the Housekeeping novel--"What Diantha Did"--which will interest
many, both men and women. It offers a very practical solution to the
Servant Question.

In it is also the Book About Men--"The Man-Made World, or Our
Androcentric Culture."

There have been books and books about women--mostly, unpleasant. This
is the first one about men, as such; men as distinguished from Human
Beings--as women have always been distinguished from Human Beings.

You won't wholly like the book--just consider whether it is true!

The novel separately, or the book separately, would also make good
presents, but the date of their publication is not settled, while in the
bound volume of the magazine you get them both for only 25c. more than
one would cost.

This set, making a volume of some 420 pages, with its twelve short
stories, its articles, fables, verse, and other matter, will make a very
good gift--for some people. Ready early in December. $1.25.

TO THOSE SPECIALLY INTERESTED IN THiS MAGAZINE, OR SPECIALLY INTERESTED
IN FIFTY DOLLARS

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IF YOU RENEW

The first year runs through December; fourteen copies.

Renew from January, 1911, and get the whole of next year.

IF YOU DISCONTINUE

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THE FORERUNNER

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WRITTEN, EDITED, OWNED AND PUBLISHED
By Charlotte Perkins Gilman

"THE CRUX"

Mrs. Gilman's new novel, will appear in
THE FORERUNNER, of 1911.

This touches upon one of the most vivid and vital of our age problems;
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Volume 1. No. 14
DECEMBER, 1910
Copyright for 1910
C. P. Gilman

You can't give what you haven't got.
The best gifts are love and wisdom, courage and power.
Lay in some!

IN AS MUCH

The Christian arose upon Christmas Day
And solemnly cleared his score:
He called on the sick, to the needy gave alms,
And entered the prison door.

He lent to his friends, gave away his old coat
Was never by sinners enticed,
And handed the man who complained of a throat
A cup of cold water--iced.

He bestowed on a newsboy a new pair of shoes,
And quoted in pious glee:
"In as much as ye've done it to one of these least
Ye have done it unto me."

*

That night he dreamed upon judgment Day:
Men's hearts were all in their throats;
To his pained surprise he was hustled away
And herded among the goats!

"Oh Lord," he cried, "there is some mistake,
I have always remembered Thee!"
But the world's neglected children rose
And gazed reproachfully.

And a voice replied, "Thy punishment take;
Thy duty thou didst not see!
In as much as ye have NOT done it to ONE
Ye have NOT done it unto me."

A WORD IN SEASON

"Children pick up words like pigeons peas,
And utter them again as God shall please."

When Grandma came to the breakfast table with her sour little smile and
her peremptory "Good morning," every one said "good morning" as politely
and pleasantly as they could, but they didn't say very much else. They
attempted bravely.

"A fine morning, Mother," Papa observed, but she only answered "Too
cold."

"Did you sleep well, Mother?" ventured Mama; and the reply to that was,
"No, I never do!"

Then Uncle John tried--he always tried once.

"Have you heard of our new machine, Mrs. Grey? We've got one now
that'll catch anything in a room--don't have to talk right into it."

Mrs. Grey looked at him coldly.

"I do not take the least interest in your talking machines, Henry, as I
have told you before."

She had, many times before, but Uncle Henry never could learn the
astonishing fact. He was more interested in his machines than he was in
his business, by far; and spent all his spare time in tinkering with
them.

"I think they are wonderful," said little Josie.

"You're my only friend, Kid! I believe you understand 'em almost as
well is I do," her Uncle answered gaily; and finished his breakfast as
quickly as possible.

So did everybody. It was not appetizing to have Grandma say "How you do
dawdle over your meals, Louise!"

Little Josephine slipped down from her chair, with a whispered "Scuse me
Mama!" and whisked into her play room.

"How you do spoil that child!" said Grandma, and Mama closed her lips
tight and looked at her husband.

"Now Mother, don't you fret about Josie," said he. "She's a good little
girl and quiet as a mouse."

"Anything I can do for you downtown, Mother?"

"No thank you Joseph. I'll go to my room and be out of Louise's way."

"You're not in my way at all, Mother--won't you sit down stairs?"

Young Mrs. Grey made a brave effort to speak cordially, but old Mrs.
Grey only looked injured, and said "No thank you, Louise," as she went
upstairs.

Dr. Grey looked at his wife. She met his eyes steadily, cheerfully.

"I think Mother's looking better, don't you dear?" she said.

"There's nothing at all the matter with my mother--except--" he shut his
mouth hard. "There are things I cannot say, Louise," he continued, "but
others I can. Namely; that for sweetness and patience and gentleness
you--you beat the Dutch! And I do appreciate it. One can't turn one's
Mother out of the house, but I do resent her having another doctor!"

"I'd love your Mother, Joseph, if--if she was a thousand times worse!"
his wife answered; and he kissed her with grateful love.

Sarah came in to clear the table presently, and Ellen stood in the
pantry door to chat with her.

"Never in my life did I see any woman wid the patience of her!" said
Ellen, wiping her mouth on her apron.

"She has need of it," said Sarah. "Any Mother-in-law is a trial I've
heard, but this wan is the worst. Why she must needs live with 'em I
don't see--she has daughters of her own."

"Tis the daughter's husbands won't put up wid her," answered Ellen,
"they havin' the say of course. This man's her son--and he has to keep
her if she will stay."

"And she as rich as a Jew!" Sarah went on. "And never spendin' a cent!
And the Doctor workin' night and day!"--

Then Mama came in and this bit of conversation naturally came to an end.

A busy, quiet, sweet little woman was Mama; and small Josie flew into
her arms and cuddled there most happily.

"Mama Dearest," she said, "How long is it to Christmas? Can I get my
mat done for Grandma? And _do_ you think she'll like it?"

"Well, well dear--that's three _questions!_ It's two weeks yet to
Christmas; and I think you can if you work steadily; and I hope she'll
like it."

"And Mama--can I have my party?"

"I'm afraid not, dearest. You see Grandma is old, and she hates a noise
and confusion--and parties are expensive. I'm sorry, childie. Can't
you think of something else you want, that Mother can give you?"

"No," said the child, "I've wanted a party for three years, Mama!
Grandma just spoils everything!"

"No, no, dear--you must always love Grandma because she is dear Papa's
mother; and because she is lonely and needs our love.

"We'll have a party some day, Dearest--don't feel badly. And _we_
always have a good time together, don't we?"

They did; but just now the child's heart was set on more social
pleasures, and she went sadly back to her playroom to work on that mat
for Grandma.

It was a busy day. Mama's married sister came to see her, and the child
was sent out of the room. Two neighbors called, and waited, chatting,
some time before Mama came down.

Grandma's doctor--who was not Papa--called; and her lawyer too; and they
had to wait some time for the old lady to dress as she thought fitting.

But Grandma's doctor and lawyer were very old friends, and seemed to
enjoy themselves.

The minister came also, not Grandma's minister, who was old and thin and
severe and wore a long white beard; but Mama's minister, who was so
vigorous and cheerful, and would lift Josephine way up over his head--as
if she was ten years old. But Mama sent her out of the room this time,
which was a pity.

To be sure Josephine had a little secret trail from her playroom
door--behind several pieces of furniture--right up to the back of the
sofa where people usually sat, but she was not often interested in their
conversation. She was a quiet child, busy with her own plans and ideas;
playing softly by herself, with much imaginary conversation. She set up
her largest doll, a majestic personage known as "The Lady Isobel," and
talked to her.

"Why is my Grandma so horrid? And why do I have to love her? How can
you love people--if you don't, Lady Isobel?

"Other girls' Grandmas are nice. Nelly Elder's got a lovely Grandma!
She lets Nelly have parties and everything. Maybe if Grandma likes my
mat she'll--be pleasanter.

"Maybe she'll go somewhere else to live--sometime. Don't you think so,
Lady Isobel?"

The Lady Isobel's reply, however, was not recorded.

Grandma pursued her pious way as usual, till an early bedtime relieved
the family of her presence. Then Uncle Harry stopped puttering with his
machines and came out to be sociable with his sister. If Papa was at
home they would have a game of solo--if not, they played cribbage, or
quiet.

Uncle Harry was the life of the household--when Grandma wasn't around.

"Well, Lulu," he said cheerfully, "What's the prospect? Can Joe make
it?"

"No," said Mama. "It's out of the question. He could arrange about his
practice easily enough but it's the money for the trip. He'll have to
send his paper to be read."

"It's a shame!" said the young man, "He ought to be there. He'd do
those other doctors good. Why in the name of reason don't the old lady
give him the money--she could, easy enough."

"Joe never'll ask her for a cent," answered Mrs. Grey, "and it would
never occur to her to give him one! Yet I think she loves him best of
all her children."

"Huh! _Love!_" said Uncle Harry.

*

Grandma didn't sleep well at night. She complained of this
circumstantially and at length.

"Hour after hour I hear the clock strike," she said. "Hour after hour!"

Little Josephine had heard the clock strike hour after hour one terrible
night when she had an earache. She was really sorry for Grandma.

"And nothing to take up my mind," said Grandma, as if her mind was a
burden to her.

But the night after this she had something to take up her mind. As a
matter of fact it woke her up, as she had napped between the clock's
strikings. At first she thought the servants were in her room--and
realized with a start that they were speaking of her.

"Why she must live with 'em I don't see--she has daughters of her own--"