In the story of this life will be found stirring scenes and distant travels; romance will not be lacking; here and there the faces of famous men and women will, for a moment, appear; across the bloom of youth and hope will fall the shadows of war. All these realities will be presented in the colors of truth. But something deeper than an interest in connected links of a story is here to be found; it shall be our endeavor to discover the causes that lead to wider activities. In endeavoring to divine, and clearly reveal, the motives that prompt action, we shall try to hold ourselves detached from the subject, finding no fault, and indulging in no encomium, defining beliefs and ambitions, not because they are ours, but because they were those of Mattie Myers, and, to understand her, one must understand them. It will not be sufficient to consider her work, and the opinions of those who knew her, in order to reach the desired result. As far as possible, she shall speak out herself, out of her old diaries and the abundance of her letters. As her biographer, I would be but the setting to uphold the gem, that it may shine by its own light. And yet, there is no life whose story may be fully understood, unless a knowledge is gained of those other lives with which it comes in contact. In the present story, this truth is of wider significance than one finds in the lives of the majority. Here will be painted scenes as widely separated as Kentucky, Missouri, Texas, Australia, England, and the Levant. THE STORY OF A LIFE. CHAPTER I. A KENTUCKY GIRL "I don't believe she's going to live long," said the black nurse, mournfully shaking her head. "She's so thin and weak, and she cries nearly every night!" The nurse was speaking of little Mattie Myers, who lived in the old Kentucky town of Stanford. The child was seldom to be seen engaged in those sports natural to children. She was grave, quiet, thoughtful. Her one amusement was found in her family of dolls; she was always their teacher, and they were daily going to school to her. For companions, she chose those who were much older than herself, and she would sit by the hour, soberly listening to theological discussion, weighing, in her infant mind, the arguments of learned men. Her mother was dead, but Mattie could recall her sympathetic touch, and tender smile. It seemed to her that out of the shadow of death her life had emerged, to be clouded by new losses. One after the other, her two sisters were taken from her. Then the brother, who was her only intimate companion, went to another town to teach school. Mattie found herself the only young person in the large house of her wealthy father. Of course she received all care; her slightest wishes were granted; the love of her widowed father was doubly hers, because of his bereavements. But the little girl was very lonely. When the flowers sent forth their perfume on the warm Kentucky breezes, she was reminded of three graves; and when the sunshine gilded the level pike leading toward Lancaster, she felt as if her brother Joe were call...