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Updated: September 15, 2025
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?" "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.
"Did the real mother never want to see her child?" "That is said to be a true picture of her," said Wauna; "and who can look at it and not see sorrow and remorse." "How could you be so stern?" I asked, in wondering astonishment. "Pity has nothing to do with crime," said Wauna, firmly. "You must look to humanity, and not to the sympathy one person excites when you are aiding enlightenment.
She was born with a genius for cooking and nothing else. Haven't you seen her with a long glass tube testing the vessels of vegetables and fruit that were cooking?" "Yes," I answered. "It was from that that I supposed her occupation menial." "Visitors from other cities," continued Wauna, "nearly always inquire for her first."
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!
No, in this land, mothers do not fear to send their daughters alone and unrecommended among strangers." When speed was required, the people of Mizora traveled altogether by air ships. But when the pleasure of landscape viewing, and the delight and exhilaration of easy progress is desired, they use either railroad cars or carriages. Wauna and I selected an easy and commodious carriage.
Instantly, and with consummate address, Multnomah preoccupied the attention of the council before anything could be said or done to impair the effect of his challenge. He bade the other runner, the one from the sea-coast, deliver his message. It was, in effect, this: A large canoe, with great white wings like a bird, had come gliding over the waters to the coast near the mouth of the Wauna.
So I requested the Preceptress to permit Wauna to accompany me as a guide and companion; a request she readily complied with. "Will you be afraid or uneasy about trusting her on so long a journey with no companion or protector but me?" I asked. The Preceptress smiled at my question.
I have described the peculiar ceremony attending the burial of youth in Mizora. Old age, in some respects, had a similar ceremony, but the funeral of an aged person differed greatly from what I had witnessed at the grave of youth. Wauna and I attended the funeral of a very aged lady. Death in Mizora was the gradual failing of mental and physical vigor. It came slowly, and unaccompanied with pain.
In the journeys that Wauna and I took during the college vacation, we were constantly meeting strangers, but they never appeared the least surprised at my dark hair and eyes, which were such a contrast to all the other hair and eyes to be met with in Mizora, that I greatly wondered at it until I learned of the power of the reflector.
It has been claimed that some have lived pure lives solely in the hope of meeting some one whom they loved, and who had died in youth and innocence." Wauna smiled. "You do not all have then the same fate in anticipation for your future life?" she asked. "Oh, no!" I answered. "The good and the wicked are divided."
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