‘Ladies and gentlemen, though a stranger in your midst, I feel I must say
a word of sympathy to you, and a word of encouragement for your cause.
It is a good and worthy movement, and I honour you for upholding it.
Often and often have I said to my classes, it matters not what face of
truth is revealed to you so long as you get a vision that will help you
to bless your fellow-men. To bless your fellow-men is the great task
before each and every one of us, and I feel to urge this specially upon
occasions like this, when I see a large and influential audience before
me. Says Rudyard Kipling, “I saw a hundred men on the road to Delhi, and
they were all my brothers.” Yes, all our brothers! The brotherhood of
man and the sisterhood of woman, those are the subjects that include all
others. I am glad to have met with you, and to have heard the eloquent
words of your speakers. If any of you would like to know more of my
work, I will gladly meet you in Room A at the close of this meeting.’
She then sat down amid applause. Never did Mrs. S. Cora Grubb cease
speaking without at least a ripple of approval that sometimes grew into a
positive ovation. What wonder, then, that she mistook herself for an
inspired person? It was easy to understand her popularity with her
fellow-men. Her eyes were as soft and clear as those of a child, her
hair waved prettily off her low, serene brow, her figure was plump and
womanly, and when her voice trembled with emotion (which in her was a
shallow well very near the surface) the charmingest pink colour came and
went in her cheeks. On such occasions more than one member of the
various brotherhoods thought what a cosy wife she would make, if removed
from the public arena to the ‘sweet, safe corner of the household fire.’
To be sure, she had not much logic, but plenty of sentiment; rather too
great a fondness for humanity, perhaps, but that was because she had no
husband and family of her own to absorb her superfluous sympathy and
energy. Mrs. Grubb was not so easily classified as these ‘brothers’
imagined, however, and fortunately for them she had no leanings towards
any man’s fireside. Mr. Grubb had died in the endeavour to understand
her, and it is doubtful whether, had he been offered a second life and
another opportunity, he would have thought the end justified the means.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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