torment as a student and a governess, and the final chapter, which turns upon her love for Mr. "Rochester," is counted as coming from the very heart of reality, unfolding in a splendid sequence and in an eloquent, captivating style. The author was the target of a campaign of harsh criticism at the time for her bold frankness, which has now come to be considered quite an ordinary matter! And behold: more than a hundred years have passed since the appearance of "Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights" in the year 1847, and they remain a fountainhead of lofty literature, never ceasing to water every heart and to gladden every soul... Did they not lay bare the subtlest of human stirrings, with deep feeling and rare intelligence?
Yes, they gave the novel a lofty direction when they turned it upon human emotion and displayed it in splendid pictures in which tangible reality was bound to spacious imagination—to such a degree that one historian of literature said: "The success of the greater part of the fiction of the nineteenth century is indebted to the novels of these sisters, for the power of feeling with which it abounds..."
And is their life, too, not a living lesson for the generations? These women who wrestled with misery and sickness, with loneliness and then privation? Charlotte fought the tempest of life for a span of thirty years. She fought it with the immortal values—with courage, faith, and hope—and prevailed over it, life being unending struggle... And when she took refuge in rest, in the shelter of a merciful husband, the specter of death came round to her a few months after her marriage, before she had completed the fortieth year of her life... The garden withered, the spring ran dry, and the sanctuary was left empty of its worshipper, when the winds of March 1855 blew, and in their folds the last breaths of the sisters melted away—breaths that had passed into the universe with the lights of thought and the fragrance of the spirit, to settle—in their loftiest signs—as a meaning in men's souls, a lesson in struggle, and a book in immortality...
mask themselves with it, so that they are not recognized except after examination and scrutiny: it is that the individual becomes an exact copy of his neighbor or his friend, taking over his views and his ideas, imitating his movements, afraid to differ from him in anything. Whence, then, should such a one have an independent, singular personality that grows and grows and goes on growing?
And the value of life is not in its length; the value of life is in its
meaning. Life is not measured — life is weighed. Let your life, then, be an overflowing spring that never runs dry, not a stagnant pool of brackish water. Your place, young woman, in the service of the community depends upon the degree of your growth; if you abandon it, it remains empty, and no other can fill it. Nor can you fill it yourself, unless your bodily, mental, and spiritual growth is balanced and steady.
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Sweets—cakes, gâteaux, biscuits, and other pastries—depend for their success on the use of "Royal Baking Powder," Royal yeast powder.
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General agents for Syria and Lebanon: the East Mediterranean Company — Khan Antoun Bey — Beirut