Many articles, poems, and speeches reach this magazine from readers; among these poems and articles there is what is good and what cannot be published. The good we publish in due course.
As for speeches delivered at public celebrations on particular occasions, it is not fitting to publish them in a monthly magazine, since the moment has passed and the benefit is lost. And we must remind readers of both sexes that although “The Woman's Voice” counts among its foremost undertakings the raising of a new generation of men and women of letters, time does not permit the editors to examine the articles of young beginners, women and men, whose style, in language and in expression, has not yet been set straight. And of that we have a great deal.
“The Woman's Voice” publishes only such stories and poetry as it itself judges good, and we prefer translated stories. After that, we have a word for our esteemed correspondents:
1 - Let them choose their subjects felicitously. 2 - Let them not make their letters longer than 600 words. 3 - Let them write on one side of the page only, in a clear hand. 4 - Let them not ask afterward for their letters and articles back; the management does not return articles, whether published or not. 5 - Let them enclose their photographs with their articles, if possible.. 6 - Let the name indicate whether Mrs. or Miss. 7 - Let them not press for the publication of their articles; everything that deserves publication, and that can be corrected, will certainly be published, and with much pleasure. 8 - Let every budding writer trust in our sincerity and in all our honest help. 9 - Let them forgive us..
My brother Kamal is dear to my heart, like the most precious of the treasured things I love...
We often differ in opinion, but I feel within myself that he takes care not to
are all
piercing intelligence and his bearing betokening good stock and deep roots. Looking at him so absorbed me that I forgot everything around me, until he was within a fathom's length, or an arm's, of me. Then he bowed to me respectfully, looked at me with his wide black eyes, and said: Listen, my child! You are in the prime of life, the springtime of youth, the delight of girlhood — alone on a seashore; and how much you need a word of advice from me, by which you may profit and set your affairs aright. His talk astonished me — there was a charm in it — but I looked at him with eyes brimming with vagueness and perplexity, wanting clarification and more of his sweet speech. It was as if he sensed this, for he stared into my face and burst out: "Beware of people! For people
...leave me a stranger to his heart, and so he draws near me with tenderness and we make up... And how many times, in my spells of illness, have I felt that "Kamal," young as he is, surrounds me with so much of his care — sitting beside my bed, telling me stories and jokes, and bringing me the magazines I love.
My brother is sensitive and finely strung; he respects my feelings in my hours of study, and enters my room on tiptoe so as not to make a noise.
But at times the selfishness of the man shows in Kamal: he will not give up a right except after being given... a kiss.
I love my brother because I see in him the promise of a man with a great, pure heart, who respects the weak and loves the poor...
It pleased me, on the afternoon of that day, to sit in a spot overlooking the seashore, to give my soul some enjoyment and relief after the cares and worries of the day before. Could anything but this vast sea have room enough to drown one's cares? I was in private communion with myself when a glance of mine happened to catch an approaching figure! What a dignified old man he was, imposing of presence, with a thick black beard, broad shoulders, well dressed, his features bespeaking a