Her knowledge of the great need for a technical school for Jewish boys preyed on her mind at night so that she could not sleep, and she felt it was wrong to be riding about the city when these boys could be helped. She sold her carriages and horses, walked for three years instead of riding, and sent a large check to start the school. It is pleasant to recall that the boys educated there have turned out wonderfully well, some of them very clever electricians.
I could continue indefinitely naming the acts of generosity of this noble woman, but we have said enough to show why her many friends desired to express their appreciation of her sterling virtues, and their love for the gentle lady, whose kindness has given happiness to countless numbers. To this end, some of her friends planned to give her a a testimonial, and called together representatives from the hundred and twenty-five different clubs and organizations of which she was a member, to consider the project. This suggestion was received with such enthusiasm that a committee was appointed who arranged a fitting tribute worthy of the occasion.
The poem with which I close my tribute to my dear friend, Mrs. Hermann, is especially fitting to her beautiful life. Her family, even after they were all married and in happy homes of their own, were expected by the mother every Sunday evening. These occasions were inexpressibly dear to her warm heart, devoted to her children and grandchildren. But owing to her reticence she was even to them really unknown.
I had given at first many more instances of her almost daily ministrations but later this seemed to be in direct opposition to her oft-expressed wish for no recognition of her gifts. "We are spirits clad in veils," but of Mrs. Hermann this was especially true and I love her memory too well not to regard her wishes as sacred.
GNOSIS
Thought is deeper than all speech,
Feeling deeper than all thought;
Souls to souls can never teach
What unto themselves was taught.
We are spirits clad in veils;
Man by man was never seen;
All our deep communing fails
To remove the shadowy screen.
Heart to heart was never known;
Mind with mind did never meet;
We are columns left alone
Of a temple once complete.
Like the stars that gem the sky,
Far apart, though seeming near,
In our light we scattered lie;
All is thus but starlight here.
What is social company,
But the babbling summer stream?
What our wise philosophy
But the glancing of a dream?