You’ve not seen the John Stevens since her new dress she donned? Why, you’d think she’d been touched by a fairy’s wand! Such carpets, such curtains, just sprang into light, Such mirrors bewildering the overcharged sight. Such velvets, such cushions, such sofas and all, Then the polish that gleams on her glittering wall. Now if it be true that you’ve not seen her yet, We ask you, nay! _urge_ you, implore and beset, That you will no longer your interests forget, But at once _take a ticket_ as we have to-day, And our word as a warrant-- You’ll find it will pay. [1] Brine Murphy, a faithful hired man. [2] Judge Ira M. Barton of Worcester. [3] Irving S. Vassall, her nephew. CHAPTER IX THE HEART OF CLARA BARTON When Clara Barton left the schoolroom for the life of a clerk in Washington, she was well past thirty years of age. When the war broke out, and she left the Patent Office for the battle-field, she was forty. Why was not she already married? Her mother married at seventeen; her sister married early: why was she single and teaching school at thirty, or available for hospital service at forty? And why did she not marry some soldier whom she tended? Did any romance lie behind her devotion to what became her life-work? Had she suffered any disappointment in love before she entered upon her career? The question whether Clara Barton was ever in love has been asked by every one who has attempted anything approaching a sketch of her career. Mr. Epler’s biography contained a chapter on this subject, but later it was found so incomplete and unsatisfactory it was thought best to omit it and to await the opening of her personal and official papers. These now are available, as well as the personal recollections of those of her relatives whose knowledge of her life includes any possibility of affairs of the heart. On the subject of her personal affections, Clara Barton was very reticent. To the present writer she said that she chose, somewhat early in life, the course which seemed to her more fruitful of good for her than matrimony. In her girlhood she was shy, and, when she found her life vocation, as she then esteemed it, as a teacher, she was so much interested in her school that she gave little thought to matrimony, and was satisfied that on the whole it would be better in her case if she lived unmarried. She had little patience, however, with women who affect to despise men. Always loyal to her own sex, and proud of every woman who accomplished anything notable, she was no man-hater, but, on the contrary, enjoyed the society of men, trusted their judgment, and liked their companionship. Her nephew, Stephen E. Barton, furnishes me this paragraph: