Part 2, Chapter 11

Our journey was a perilous one with all our precautions. The passage through the swiftest part of the current almost swamped our boat. The current that opposed us was so strong, that when we increased our speed our boat appeared to be cleaving its way through a wall of waters. Wauna was perfectly calm, and managed the motor with the steadiest nerves. Her courage inspired me, though many a time I despaired of ever getting out of the rapids. When we did, and looked up at the star-gemmed canopy that stretches above my own world, and abroad over the dark and desolate waste of waters around us, it gave me an impression of solemn and weird magnificence. It was such a contrast to the vivid nights of Mizora, to which my eyes had so long been accustomed, that it came upon me like a new scene.

Despite all our precautions, our journey was dangerous. The fastest part of the current almost swamped our boat. The current against us was so strong that, as we sped up, our boat seemed to cut through a wall of water. Wauna was perfectly calm and controlled the motor with the steadiest nerves. Her courage inspired me, though I often despaired of ever escaping the rapids. When we finally emerged, we looked up at the star-filled sky that stretches above my own world. We also looked out over the dark, desolate expanse of water around us. The scene struck me as solemn and strangely magnificent. It was so different from the vivid nights of Mizora, which my eyes had grown used to over so long, that it seemed entirely new to me.

The stars were a source of wonder and ceaseless delight to Wauna. "It looks," she said, "as though a prodigal hand had strewn the top of the atmosphere with diamonds."

The stars filled Wauna with wonder and endless delight. "It looks," she said, "as if a generous hand scattered diamonds across the top of the atmosphere."

The journey over fields of ice and snow was monotonous, but, owing to the skill and knowledge of Mizora displayed in our accoutrements, it was deprived of its severities. The wind whistled past us without any other greeting than its melancholy sound. We looked out from our snug quarters on the dismal hills of snow and ice without a sensation of distress. The Aurora Borealis hung out its streamers of beauty, but they were pale compared to what Wauna had seen in her own country. The Esquimaux she presumed were animals.

The journey across fields of ice and snow was monotonous. But our equipment showed Mizora’s skill and knowledge, sparing us the journey’s hardships. The wind whistled past us, offering nothing but its melancholy sound. From our snug quarters, we looked out at the bleak hills of snow and ice without feeling distressed. The Aurora Borealis displayed its beautiful streamers, but they were pale compared to those Wauna had seen in her own country. She assumed the Esquimaux were animals.

We traveled far enough south to secure passage upon a trading-vessel bound for civilized shores. The sun came up with his glance of fire and his banners of light, laying his glorious touch on cloud and water, and kissing the cheek with his warmth. He beamed upon us from the zenith, and sank behind the western clouds with a lingering glance of beauty. The moon came up like the ghost of the sun, casting a weird yet tender beauty on every object. To Wauna it was a revelation of magnificence in nature beyond her contriving.

We traveled far enough south to find passage on a trading ship bound for civilized shores. The sun rose with a fiery gaze and banners of light. It touched the clouds and water with its glory and kissed our cheeks with its warmth. It shone down on us from high overhead, then sank behind the western clouds with a lingering, beautiful glance. The moon rose like the ghost of the sun, casting a strange yet tender beauty over everything. For Wauna, it revealed a magnificence in nature beyond anything she could imagine.

"How grand," she exclaimed, "are the revelations of nature in your world! To look upon them, it seems to me, would broaden and deepen the mind with the very vastness of their splendor. Nature has been more bountiful to you than to Mizora. The day with its heart of fire, and the night with its pale beauty are grander than ours. They speak of vast and incomprehensible power."

“How magnificent,” she exclaimed, “are the wonders of nature in your world! I think seeing them would broaden and deepen the mind through the sheer vastness of their splendor. Nature has given you more than it has given Mizora. The day, with its fiery heart, and the night, with its pale beauty, are grander than ours. They speak of a vast and incomprehensible power.”

When I took Wauna to the observatory, and she looked upon the countless multitudes of worlds and suns revolving in space so far away that a sun and its satellites looked like a ball of mist, she said that words could not describe her sensations.

I took Wauna to the observatory, where she saw countless worlds and suns revolving in space. They were so far away that a sun and its satellites looked like a ball of mist. She said words could not describe how she felt.

"To us," she said, "the leaves of Nature's book are the winds and waves, the bud and bloom and decay of seasons. But here every leaf is a world. A mighty hand has sprinkled the suns like fruitful seeds across the limitless fields of space. Can human nature contemplate a scene so grand that reaches so far beyond the grasp of mind, and not feel its own insignificance, and the littleness of selfish actions? And yet you can behold these myriads of worlds and systems of worlds wheeling in the dim infinity of space—a spectacle awful in its vastness—and turn to the practice of narrow superstitions?"

"To us," she said, "the pages of Nature's book are the winds and waves, the budding, blooming, and decay of the seasons. But here, every page is a world. A mighty hand has scattered the suns like seeds that bear fruit across the endless fields of space. Can people look at a scene so grand that it reaches far beyond their understanding? Can they do so without feeling their own insignificance and the smallness of selfish actions? And yet you can see these countless worlds and systems of worlds wheeling through the dim infinity of space. You can see this awe-inspiring spectacle, so vast it fills you with dread, and then turn to the practice of narrow superstitions?"

At last the shores of my native land greeted my longing eyes, and the familiar scenes of my childhood drew near. But when, after nearly twenty years absence, I stood on the once familiar spot, the graves of my heart's dear ones were all that was mine. My little one had died soon after my exile. My father had soon followed. Suspected, and finally persecuted by the government, my husband had fled the country, and, nearly as I could discover, had sought that universal asylum for the oppressed of all nations—the United States. And thither I turned my steps.

At last, I saw the shores of my homeland, and the familiar scenes of my childhood drew near. But when I stood in that once familiar place after nearly twenty years away, all I had left were the graves of my loved ones. My little one had died soon after my exile. My father had died soon afterward. The government had suspected and finally persecuted my husband, and he had fled the country. As nearly as I could discover, he had sought refuge in the United States, a haven for the oppressed of all nations. So I made my way there.

In my own country and in France, the friends who had known me in girlhood were surprised at my youthful appearance. I did not explain the cause of it to them, nor did I mention the people or country from whence I had come. Wauna was my friend and a foreigner—that was all.

In my own country and in France, friends who had known me as a girl were surprised by how young I looked. I did not explain why I looked so young. Nor did I tell them about the people or country I had come from. Wauna was my friend and a foreigner. That was all.

The impression she made was all that I had anticipated. Her unusual beauty and her evident purity attracted attention wherever she went. The wonderful melody of her singing was much commented upon, but in Mizora she had been considered but an indifferent singer. But I had made a mistake in my anticipation of her personal influence. The gentleness and delicacy of her character received the tenderest respect. None who looked upon that face or met the glance of the dark soft eyes ever doubted that the nature that animated them was pure and beautiful. Yet it was the respect felt for a character so exceptionably superior that imitation and emulation would be impossible.

She made exactly the impression I had expected. Her unusual beauty and obvious purity attracted attention wherever she went. Many people remarked on the wonderful melody of her singing, though in Mizora she had been considered only an average singer. But I had been mistaken about her personal influence. People treated her gentle, delicate character with the tenderest respect. Everyone who saw her face or met the gaze of her soft, dark eyes believed her nature was pure and beautiful. Yet they respected her character as so exceptionally superior that they could not possibly imitate it or aspire to equal it.

"She is too far above the common run of human nature," said one observer. "I should not be surprised if her spirit were already pluming its wings for a heavenly flight. Such natures never stay long among us."

"She is far above ordinary human nature," said one observer. "I wouldn't be surprised if her spirit were already spreading its wings for a flight to heaven. People like her never stay long among us."

The remark struck my heart with a chill of depression. I looked at Wauna and wondered why I had noticed sooner the shrinking outlines of the once round cheek. Too gentle to show disgust, too noble to ill-treat, the spirit of Wauna was chafing under the trying associations. Men and women alike regarded her as an impossible character, and I began to realize with a sickening regret that I had made a mistake. In my own country, in France and England, her beauty was her sole attraction to men. The lofty ideal of humanity that she represented was smiled at or gently ignored.

The remark filled my heart with a chill of sadness. I looked at Wauna and wondered why I had noticed sooner that her once round cheek was growing thinner. She was too gentle to show disgust and too noble to mistreat anyone. Yet her spirit was suffering from the strain of the company she kept. Men and women alike regarded her as an impossible person. With sickening regret, I began to realize that I had made a mistake. In my own country, in France and England, her beauty was the only thing men found attractive about her. They smiled at or gently ignored the noble ideal of humanity she represented.

"The world would be a paradise," said one philosopher, "if such characters were common. But one is like a seed in the ocean; it cannot do much good."

"The world would be a paradise," said one philosopher, "if people like that were common. But one person is like a seed in the ocean. They cannot do much good."

When we arrived in the United States, its activity and evident progress impressed Wauna with a feeling more nearly akin to companionship. Her own character received a juster appreciation.

When we arrived in the United States, its activity and obvious progress gave Wauna more of a sense of companionship. Her own character was also appreciated more fairly.

"The time is near," she said, "when the New World will be the teacher of the Old in the great lesson of Humanity. You will live to see it demonstrate to the world the justice and policy of giving to every child born under its flag the highest mental, moral and physical training known to the present age. You can hardly realize what twenty-five years of free education will bring to it. They are already on the right path, but they are still many centuries behind my own country in civilization, in their government and modes of dispensing justice. Yet their free schools, as yet imperfect, are, nevertheless, fruitful seeds of progress."

"The time is near," she said, "when the New World will teach the Old World the great lesson of humanity. You will live to see the New World show the world what is just and wise. It will give every child born under its flag the best mental, moral, and physical training known today. You can hardly imagine what twenty-five years of free education will bring to the New World. Its people are already on the right path. But in civilization, government, and how they administer justice, they are still many centuries behind my own country. Yet their free schools, though still imperfect, are seeds of progress that are already bearing fruit."

Yet here the nature of Wauna grew restless and homesick, and she at last gave expression to her longing for home.

Yet here Wauna grew restless and homesick. At last, she expressed her longing for home.

"I am not suited to your world," she said, with a look of deep sorrow in her lovely eyes. "None of my people are. We are too finely organized. I cannot look with any degree of calmness upon the practices of your civilization. It is a common thing to see mothers ill-treat their own helpless little ones. The pitiful cries of the children keep ringing in my ears. Cannot mothers realize that they are whipping a mean spirit into their offspring instead of out. I have heard the most enlightened deny their own statements when selfishness demanded it. I cannot mention the half of the things I witness daily that grates upon my feelings. I cannot reform them. It is not for such as I to be a reformer. Those who need reform are the ones to work for it."

"I am not suited to your world," she said, her lovely eyes filled with deep sorrow. "None of my people are. We are too sensitive. I cannot calmly watch the practices of your civilization. Mothers often mistreat their own helpless little ones. The children's pitiful cries keep ringing in my ears. Can mothers not see that they are whipping a cruel spirit into their children, not out of them? I have heard even the most enlightened people deny what they said when it served their own interests. I cannot mention half the things I see every day that distress me. I cannot reform them. I am not the kind of person to be a reformer. Those who need to change are the ones who must work for change."

Sorrowfully I bade adieu to my hopes and my search for Alexis, and prepared to accompany Wauna's return. We embarked on a whaling vessel, and having reached its farthest limit, we started on our perilous journey north; perilous for the lack of our boat, of which we could hear nothing. It had been left in charge of a party of Esquimaux, and had either been destroyed, or was hidden. Our progress, therefore, depended entirely upon the Esquimaux. The tribe I had journeyed so far north with had departed, and those whom I solicited to accompany us professed to be ignorant of the sea I mentioned. Like all low natures, the Esquimaux are intensely selfish. Nothing could induce them to assist us but the most apparent benefit to themselves; and this I could not assure them. The homesickness, and coarse diet and savage surroundings told rapidly on the sensitive nature of Wauna. In a miserable Esquimaux hut, on a pile of furs, I saw the flame of a beautiful and grandly noble life die out. My efforts were hopeless; my anguish keen. O Humanity, what have I sacrificed for you!

Sadly, I gave up my hopes and my search for Alexis, and prepared to accompany Wauna on her return. We boarded a whaling vessel. When it had gone as far as it could, we began our dangerous journey north. The journey was dangerous because we did not have our boat, and we could get no news of it. We had left it in the care of a party of Esquimaux. It had either been destroyed or was hidden. So our progress depended entirely on the Esquimaux. The tribe I had traveled so far north with had left. Those I asked to accompany us claimed they knew nothing of the sea I described. Like all low natures, the Esquimaux are intensely selfish. Nothing could persuade them to help us except a clear benefit to themselves, and I could not promise them one. Homesickness, coarse food, and savage surroundings quickly took their toll on Wauna's sensitive nature. In a miserable Esquimaux hut, on a pile of furs, I watched the flame of a beautiful and grandly noble life die out. My efforts were hopeless. My anguish was sharp. O Humanity, what have I sacrificed for you!

"Oh, Wauna," I pleaded, as I saw the signs of dissolution approaching, "shall I not pray for you?"

"Oh, Wauna," I pleaded, seeing the signs that death was near, "may I pray for you?"

"Prayers cannot avail me," she replied, as her thin hands reached and closed over one of mine. "I had hoped once more to see the majestic hills and smiling valleys of my own sweet land, but I shall not. If I could only go to sleep in the arms of my mother. But the Great Mother of us all will soon receive me in her bosom. And oh! my friend, promise me that her dust shall cover me from the sight of men. When my mother rocked me to slumber on her bosom, and soothed me with her gentle lullaby, she little dreamed that I should suffer and die first. If you ever reach Mizora, tell her only that I sleep the sleep of oblivion. She will know. Let the memory of my suffering die with me."

"Prayers cannot help me," she replied, reaching out with her thin hands and clasping one of mine. "I once hoped to see the majestic hills and lovely valleys of my sweet homeland again, but I will not. If only I could go to sleep in my mother's arms. But the Great Mother of us all will soon receive me in her arms. Oh, my friend, promise me that her earth will cover me and hide me from the sight of men. When my mother rocked me to sleep against her breast and sang me gentle lullabies, she never dreamed I would suffer and die before her. If you ever reach Mizora, tell her only that I sleep the sleep of oblivion. She will know. Let the memory of my suffering die with me."

"Oh, Wauna," I exclaimed, in anguish, "you surely have a soul. How can anything so young, so pure, so beautiful, be doomed to annihilation?"

"Oh, Wauna," I cried in anguish, "you must have a soul. How can someone so young, so pure, and so beautiful be doomed to cease to exist?"

"We are not annihilated," was the calm reply. "And as to beauty, are the roses not beautiful? Yet they die and you say it is the end of the year's roses. The birds are harmless, and their songs make the woods melodious with the joy of life, yet they die, and you say they have no after life. We are like the roses, but our lives are for a century and more. And when our lives are ended, the Great Mother gathers us in. We are the harvest of the centuries."

"We are not destroyed," came the calm reply. "And what about beauty? Aren't roses beautiful? Yet they die, and you say that is the end of the year's roses. Birds are harmless, and their songs fill the woods with the music of life's joy. Yet they die, and you say they have no afterlife. We are like the roses, but we live for a century or more. And when our lives end, the Great Mother gathers us in. We are the harvest of the centuries."

When the dull, gray light of the Arctic morning broke, it fell gently upon the presence of Death.

When the dull, gray light of the Arctic morning appeared, it fell gently upon the presence of Death.

With the assistance of the Esquimaux, a grave was dug, and a rude wooden cross erected on which I wrote the one word "Wauna," which, in the language of Mizora, means "Happiness."

With the help of the Esquimaux, a grave was dug and a simple wooden cross was put up. On the cross, I wrote the single word "Wauna," which means "Happiness" in the language of Mizora.

The world to which I have returned is many ages behind the civilization of Mizora.

The world I have returned to is many ages behind Mizora's civilization.

Though we cannot hope to attain their perfection in our generation, yet many, very many, evils could be obliterated were we to follow their laws. Crime is as hereditary as disease.

Though we cannot hope to reach their perfection in our generation, we could eliminate many, many evils by following their laws. Crime is as hereditary as disease.

No savant now denies the transmittable taint of insanity and consumption. There are some people in the world now, who, knowing the possibility of afflicting offspring with hereditary disease, have lived in ascetic celibacy. But where do we find a criminal who denies himself offspring, lest he endow posterity with the horrible capacity for murder that lies in his blood?

No scientist now denies that insanity and tuberculosis can be inherited. Some people know they could pass a hereditary disease on to their children. They have chosen to live in strict celibacy. But where do we find a criminal who refuses to have children? Who does so for fear of passing on the terrible capacity for murder in his blood?

The good, the just, the noble, close heart and eyes to the sweet allurements of domestic life, lest posterity suffer physically or mentally by them. But the criminal has no restraints but what the law enforces. Ignorance, poverty and disease, huddled in dens of wretchedness, where they multiply with reckless improvidence, sometimes fostered by mistaken charity.

Good, just, and noble people turn away from the sweet attractions of family life. They fear their children might suffer physically or mentally. But criminals face no restraints except those enforced by law. Ignorance, poverty, and disease are crowded together in miserable slums, where people multiply recklessly and without planning. Misguided charity sometimes encourages this.

The future of the world, if it be grand and noble, will be the result of Universal Education, free as the God-given water we drink.

If the world’s future is grand and noble, it will be thanks to education for all, free as the water God gives us to drink.

In the United States I await the issue of universal liberty. In this refuge for oppression, my husband found a grave. Childless, homeless and friendless, in poverty and obscurity, I have written the story of my wanderings. The world's fame can never warm a heart already dead to happiness; but out of the agony of one human life, may come a lesson for many. Life is a tragedy even under the most favorable conditions.

In the United States, I wait to see what becomes of universal liberty. In this refuge from oppression, my husband found a grave. Childless, homeless, and friendless, I have written the story of my travels in poverty and obscurity. Fame can never warm a heart already dead to happiness. But the agony of one human life may offer a lesson to many. Life is a tragedy even under the best conditions.

THE END

THE END