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WOMAN’S WORLD.
A Few Things of Interest to the Fair
Sex.
Masked Before Marriage—A Man Who
Makes His Wife His Banker-Fat
Women Seldom Live Long—The
Fashion in Bathing Suits—Mary
Washington’s Traits—Points About
a Troublesome Conscience —Why
Englishmen Marry American Girls.
Other Matters Well Worth Bead
ing.
“Have you ever thought,” asked the
Englishman, with an amiable smile,
“what compliments American women are
always receiving?” This man from the
tight little island, says the New York
Tribune, is always finding something
pleasant to say about America.
“The hands of American women,” he
went on, not waiting for an answer, “are
always being sought by men of all
nationalities. See how many American
girls are married to Englishmen, lucky
dogs that we are! Now, isn’t that a
tribute to their beauty and charm?
There are plenty of women in England
and on the continent, charming women,
too. but my countrymen are always fall
ing in love with your sisters and cou
sins.”
“Wait a minute,” said his American
friend. There is a suspicion among some
of us Americans that you Englishmen
always manage to fall in love with
American girls who are rich. Isn’t that
so, and doesn’t that make a difference?”
“Oh, boshl” cried the Briton. “Just
see how many Englishman have married
American girls, who, if they were not ab
solutely poor, at least could not be called
rich,” and he rattled off the names of a
dozen or more.
“It isn’t safe,” he wept on in his good
natured way, “to take them away from
home. Foreigners are sure to fall in love
with them, and then you lose them. Isn’t
that so?” he added, his eyes twinkling.
The compliment was accepted by the
Americans, and they felt a little bit “set
up” about it, too. One of them thought
enough about it. since the compliment
came from an Englishman, to tell his
cousin of it that evening.
“And what did you say?” she asked
him, giving him an amused smile.
“I said they mafried rich girls,” he an
swered.
“Or course you did, Jack,'.’ she said,
with a little laugh. “That is Just like
you.”
“But he proved that that was not so, as
a rule.”
“Did he?”
“Yes, he did,” said Jack, defiantly,
feeling that there was going to be trouble
over this thing, and he recited the cases
which the Englishman had called to wit
ness.
“Then what did you do?” she asked
with a smile that showed that she knew
just what he had done.
“What did I do? What do I usually do,
Bess, when I see that I am in the wrong?
I confessed my error.”
“Jack,” she said, with .just the faintest
trace of scorn in her voice, “how many
Americans marry English girls?”
“Oh, I am sure, I don’t know,” he
answered, hastily, trying to recall one.
“Well, they are very few, let me tell
you,” with a good strong emphasis on the
“ “Perhaps they are.” he assented mildly,
“but what has that to do with the case?”
“It means,” she said, tapping the toe of
her slipper rapidly on the floor, “that you
uHssed your cnance, You know as well
as I know that it is the sons in England
who get the money, and the eldest sons,
too. When an English girl gets a lot of
money which isn’t entailed, she gets a
husband fast enough.”
“Don’t all English girls?” said Jack
I seeing a chance to get in a thrust.
“Walt,” his cousin commanded. “If
American women are attractive to En
glishmen and Englishmen to American
women, why shouldn,t English women
and American men always be falling in
* love, too?”
“But what has th<t to do with the
case?” he cried.
“Why didn’t you ask him that?”
“What would have been the use?”
“Why don’t poor English girls get mar
ried to rich Americans?” she demanded
giving him a withering glance.
“Oh, I don’t kdow, I tell? you,” said
Jack, in despair.
“Os course ,y<fu don’t, Jack, and I never
expected it of you,” she said, leaning back
In her chair, and speaking now very slow
ly. “It is because a poor English girl of
family would rather marry a poor En
glishman of position—and it is not so
easy, let me tell you, for an English girl
who is poor to make a ‘good match.’ ”
“But you don’t mean to say”—cried
Jack in astonishment.
“Listen to what I mean to say.” she In
terrupted, in her even voice. “A woman
knows the value of position. She thinks
of it all the time. She dreams of it. It
is about all that most of us have to think
of,” she added, a little fiercely. “A
woman knows what it is to take prece
dence, and what it is to—to be put be
hind somebody else,” she added, her
brows contracting. “So she thinks about
these things, and when she sees an oppor
tunity”’—
“Whatt” cried Jack, aghast at this
new side of his cousin’s self. “Do you
mean to tell me”—-
“And so when she sees an opportunity.”
she went on, ignoring him, “to take pre
cedence she plots ana schemes, and* uses
all the fine arts of diplomacy to take it.
That is why American girls marry Eng
lishmen. That is why English girls”
"Bess!”
“English girls won’t marry American
men. Who do you think it is,” she asked,
ahahply, “does the marrying?”
“I didn’t say the men did.”
“Umph.”
. “I know”
“Jack, you don’t know. Why didn’t
you ask that man about English girls?
Why didn’t you, I say ?”
“I don’t believe it,” he answered stub
•bornly.
“Why didn’t you ask him?” she insis
ted.
“I’m going into the library to smoke,”
he said gloomily.
The recent dedication at Fredericksburg
of the monument to Mary Washington,
. says the Now York Times, has brought
out many interesting statements and
. comments upon her life and character.
The Rochester Post-Express finds that
she “was a curious woman. If she had
• not been the mother of George many
Blighting remarks might have been made
of her. As she was, of course, we are
« inclined to judge her very kindly, and
there was much in her nature that was
pood and noble. Her husband died when
she was 87 years old. leaving her with a
large family of children, of whom five,
including George, were under IX Life
became at onco a serious matter, but she
whs a woman fitted for her task. She
educated her children personally man
anged two estates, and superintended
the plantations as well as the household
affairs It was said that no plantations
in Virginia were more ably or eeonomi-
* rally managed, and she was independent,
intellectual and resolute. It was in her
old age, when her children had grown
up, that her eccentricities became more
marked.”
A Tribune writer records that oven up
’ to the age of 78 years Mary Washington
crossed the ferry from Fredericksburg
every morning, and “drove about in an
old gig, inspecting fields, gardens, barns,
and slave quarters, with a keen eye for
neglect or waste or disorder. They say
she was a very hard mistress. As age
and weakness increased, she abandoned
the old gig and made her tours of inspec
tion in an old, low-hung victoria, which
had been provided for her comfort by the
general.” She is reported to have had a
sharp tongue, and the same writer says
that she did not change the fashion of
her raiment for more than twenty years,
ana cut and made her own garments, in
defiance of public Opinion and the chang
ing styles. “When she went visiting, the
sight of her approach caused every mem
ber of the household to seize a broom or a
dust brush, or in some manner to assist
in straightening up things, so that her
fastidious and critical taste might not
be offended. She performed her daily du
ties at precisely the same hour, in pre
cisely the same manner, every morning,
regardless of changing conditions and
circumstances, and the neighbors always
set their clocks and watches by the ring
ing of her dinner bell.” But all the same
she was Washington’s mother. The gen
eral, after the battle of Yorktown, paid
her a visit with all his staff of French
and American officers, and on the very
day when he received notice of his elec
tion to the Presidency he galloped over
to Mount Vernon to carry his mother the
news, and remained with her until it was
necessary for him to start for New York.
Lafayette, too, paid her a visit of respect,
and when she died the whole country
mourned, the members of the Senate and
House wore crape on their arms, and
there were services in the various
churches.
Why did we marry—you and I?
Ah, me! why did we? In our youth
I vowed I loved; and your reply,
Heart-sung, yet.silent, seem the truth.
Beside our love’s now swelling tone
How faint was that first throb, dear heart!
It was » babe that since has grown
Big as the world of which we re part.
Ay, bigger yet, like Paradise:
For when you fold me to your breast,
Or I drink deep from your dear eyes,
The world s forgot, with all the rest.
Give more, dear nobler half! I thirst
For all the love you once kept hid.
What if we did not love at first?
Thank God, sweet wife, we thought we did.
(Julian Ralph, in McClure s Magazine for
June.)
An over-sensitive conscience, says the
New York Tribune, is sometimes a
troublesome virtue, as Mrs. A. has often
found to her cost. “Things that she has
left undone,” and thought of afterward,
form a constant trial of her gentle life.
Not long ago, while traveling in the
west, she stepped at a hotel in Cincin
nati, and on the morning of her departure
she had some bananas, figs, etc., brought
up to her room with her breakfast. Just
before leaving, as she gave a last glance
about to see that nothing was forgotten,
she happened to see a large, hairy-looking
object slowly crawling up the wall. “It
was so large I thought it was a mouse at
first,” she said afterward, “and then I
discovered it was a horrible-looking in
sect, but I had no time to examine it, and
only gathered up tay things and
fled. But an hour later, when
I had made myself comfortable Rin
my section on the express for New
York, and was speeding away toward
home, my ever-imaginative conscience be
gan to trouble me. Why had I not sum
moned assistance and attacked the beast?
Perhaps it was poisoaous; and then a
sudden thought struck me. ‘lt must be!
Yes, there is no doubt about it! It un
doubtedly came from that plate of south
ern fruit, and was one of those venomous
insects one reads about. Most likely it
was a tarantula./ In fact, I think I have
heard that tarantulas looked just like
that, and the next person that comes into
the room will be stung and die, all be
cause I did not give the alarm!’ And so
on. and so on, I kept worrying and worry
ing about it, until I could not stand it any
longer. So I wrote out a long telegram,
which cost a small fortune, explaining all
about the dreadful creature, and asking
that it might be looked for and killed at
once.
“This I wired to the hotel keeper, and
felt much easier in consequence, and
afterward forgot all about the occurence
until a few months later, when I again
stopped in Cincinnati en route with some
friends to California. I remembered my
scare, and, although rather ashamed of
the fuss I had made, summoned up cour
age to ask the proprietor what he had
done about it, and if the tarantula had
been found.
“ ‘Why, were you the lady that sent
that long telegram?’ he asked, smiling at
me in kindly, tolerant fashion, as if I
were a small child, or some curious freak.
‘lt was the longest message I ever re
ceived. Did we find the tarantula? Why,
madam, it was only a water beetle. We
have lots of them here; they are nasty
looking bugs, but, bless you, they don’t
hurt any one!’ ”
Not many people kpow how the name
of bloomer came to be applied to the style
of woman’s dress sometimes called the
divided skirt. Mrs. Amelia Bloomer,
after whom the garment was christened,
resides with her husband in Council
Bluffs, their residence to-day being the
one in which they took up their abode
fnrty years ago, when Council Bluffs, now
a city of 25,000 people, was a somewhat
straggling village of 300 souls. Mrs.
Bloomer, now 76 years old, carries her
years easily, her fifty-four years of mar
ried life having been unmarred by other
than the fleeciest of temporary clouds.
It was in 1851 that sue began to wear the
costume which is now known throughout
the English-speaking world as the
bloomer. She was then living at Seneca
Falls. N. Y., where she was publishing a
temperance paper called the Lily. In
addition to being a prohibition advo
cate the paper also aevoted considerable
space to the subject of woman suffrage.
A Mrs. Miller, who in 1851 paid a visit to
Seneca balls, appeared in the bifurcated
dress, and Mrs. Bloomer published a de
scription of it. She and Elizabeth Cady
Stanton adopted the style and advocated
its general adoption. Mrs. Bloomer wore
the costume on several lecture trips, and
in this way it became associated with
and finally known by her name. By and
by Horace Greeley took the subject up,
and was followed by other editors, the re
sult being that the bifurcated became
known allover the country as the bloomer.
It is said on good authority that small
drop earrings are to be worn again, which
draws attention to the factor how com
pletely any but a diamond soltaire ear
ring has vanished from the ranks of fash
ion. The present demand for small orna
ments, buckles, slides, lace and hat pins,
and the innumerable other trinkets in
gold and silver which are now in vogue
has given a distinct impetus to the trade
of the jeweler and silversmith.
When the first Turkish minister, Mele
Mele, came to Washington, says the New-
York Times, a grand ball was planned in
his honor. Hundreds of invitations were
sent out, and nearly everybody who re
ceived one came, for there was much
curiosity to see the important Turk in
his native dress. Particularly were per
sons anxious to examine the splendid
dress turban which had been aescribed
and talked about, made, as it was, of
plaster of paris, yet looking like the fin
est muslin. When ’the evening arrived
Mele Mele seemed to be the only one who
was not having a good time. He stood
looking as if he did not knoWHhat every
body w.is admiring him and altogether
very much bored, till suddenly he
caught a glimpse of a big negro woman,
who was assisting in serving the supper.
Instantly he rushed up to her and,
throwing his arms about her neck, gave
her a good kiss, explaining that he could
not help it, she reminded him so much of
THE WEEKLY NEWS (TWOTIMES-A-WEEK): THURSDAY, JUNE 28, 1894.
his best and most expensive wife, and,
while the company thought it a very odd
thing to do, everybody rould understand
that he was a homesick man, and nobody
minded it in the least.
I have a friend who is comfortably well
off, with a reasonable amount of good in
vestments and a good salary, but he has
a weakness for using money freely, says
a writer in the Boston Journal. He has
also a good wife with a “frugal mind,”
and by a domestic arrangement she ex
erts a salutary check on the liberality of
her spouse. Occasionally he exceeds his
allowance and indulges in tricks on his
“banker” to secure a little pocket money,
for which he does not desire to render a
strict account. Not long ago he needed a
new hat and bought it, reporting to his
good wife that it cost him $3, and that
sum was duly charged by her to his per
sonal expenses, while in fact he paid but
$1.50 at a “mark-down” sale, and so had
an equal amount to “blow in” without ex
posure. Ina little time, however, the wife
called his attention to the fact that his hat
was looking shabby and suggested that
he should get a new one, coupling the sug
gestion with the remark that the hat did
not seem to have worn well, and he must
exercise more care in his next selection.
Havingiforgotten his “little game,” the
husband replied hastily that he thought
the hat had done pretty good service for
a cheap one. “You can’t expect anything
from a $1.50 hat.”
"How’s that?” says the wife, and
forthwith she exhibited her account book
with its charge of $3, and the husband
was forced to confess his fraud and
promise better conduct in future. There
is peace Just now in that family, but
when he brings home a purchase the wife
calmly but firmly asks him to turn in a
receipted bill from the salesman.
There is no doubt that a great deal of
the unhappiness of married life arises
from the fact that when a man is court
ing a girl he only sees her “at her best,”
both as regards temper, looks and every
thing else. After marriage he is rudely
disillusioned, and vaguely wonders
whether this snappy young woman with
untidy hair, and perhaps a shine on her
nose, can be the sweet-tempered, fault
lessly dressed, lovely Angelina of a few
month ago. Yes, young man, says the
New York Advertiser, she is Angelina
right enough, only she has, so to say,
thrown off her mask, now she has “got
you,” and appears in her true colors,
which are not quite of so fascinating a
hue as those that dazzled your love-sick
eyes in the courting peroid. It is
nearly every girl’s ambition to get mar
ried. She lays herself out to do so, and
any little artifice that will enhance her
natural charms she has no hesitation in
using. She dresses for effect, she poses
for effect, she talks for effect, in fact,
during this stage of her life she is acting
—for every woman is more or less of an
actress —and it must be confessed that,
generally speaking, she acts her part very
well.
After all, it is only natural that she
should try to appear at her best and en
deavor to captivate mankind, for mar
riage is the be-all and end-all of a society
girl’s existence. The worst of it is that
she cannot keep this up after marriage;
it would be too great a strain both physi
cally and mentally. As it is, heaven only
knows what she goes through during the
anxious time when she is angling for a
fish, especially if it be a gold fish. She
molds herself to her likes and dislikes,
and outrages her own feelings, until the
little golden band on her fingers allows
her to breathe freely and declare that
“Though he likes living in the country,
she detests it, and does not intend
to live there.” Mr. Neuwed is
startled and astounded. This is
open rebellion. Yet when he was court
ing her she appeared such a meek, gentle
creature, as to hava no wish or will of
her own, quite content to follow in his
lordship’s footsteps.- “What a fool I was
to get married,” he mentally exclaims,
and then in all probability the bickering
begins that renders married life one long
misery. Perhaps it now dawns on Mr.
Neuwed that when he was courting her
she was at her best.
A word to men. When you are court
ing a girl remember she is at her best in
every respect, and that she cannot possi
bly always keep up to this his high stand
ard after marriage ; so grasp the fact that
you are not going to marry an angel, but
a human being with many faults, perhaps
as many as you posses yourself.
Superfluous flesh, says the New York
World, is a disease. Fat women are sel
dom rugged or long-lived. Obesity may
be simmered down to two causes—lazi
ness and self-indulgence. It is pleasant
to 101 l about in hammocks, rocking-chairs
and couches, and to indulge every whim
of the appetite. The very dishes that
delight the senses of the women inclined
to obesity are the very ones they should
not eat. The first step toward a cure
for “lazy” matter is self-sacrifice. It
was petting that piled up the billows,
and only the severe lines of something
approaching asceticism will scatter them.
Fat girls who leave college and go into
active bdsiness or professional life, and
great wives of the men who meet with
reverses of fortune, necessitating self
help from every member of the family,
lose flesh in a year under the new order
of things, proving that exercise of the
right sort is demolishing as well as enno
bling.
The bathing suit, says the New York
Sun, can no longer be the ordinary blue
flannel, without rhyme or reason, made
by-the-dozen sort of an affair. It must
have style and individuality about it, and
good taste is as necessary in its selection
as in the choice of a fall gown; yet this
year's suit is easy to 'make. In fact,
nothing is more conspicuous than the
bathing suit, and nothing causes more
comment, since watching the bathers has
become the event of the day at many of
the fashionable resorts.
Mohair seems the popular material
this season, as it sheds the water, so that
the garments do not become as heavy as
the flannel ones. Serge is also a favor
ite, as it comes in a variety of colors.
It is not only in Japan that incompetent
doctors are punished for professional failure
resulting in the loss of life of their patients,
but in Russia also, where nhysicians are hela
similarly responsible. A well-known medical
practitioner at St. Petersburg has just been
sentenced to seven days imprisonment, to a
fine of 1.000 rubles and to the payment of an
annuity of 300 rubles to a lady who was in
jured by his unskillful treatment. Russia is
already lamentably deficient as far as the
number of its medical men is concerned, ana
this somewhat drastic punishment is scarcely
of a character to increase the popularity of
the profession.
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ALLEY LIFE.
Bab Finds Plenty of Real Tragedy in
the City’s Dark Places.
The Dead Wife and the Stilled Baby
on the Tenement Bed—Day Laborers
as Slaves—Who is to Blame?—The
Impressive Double Funeral in a
Humble Flat—People of “the Other
Side” Need Help but No Preaching.
New York, June 23.—They are around
us every day. The tragedies, I mean.
That’s the reason why when we go to the
theater, we want to see something amus
ing. I went the other day to see Mis’
Connolly to tell her good-bye, and to
leave iu her hands a little money that
some good people had given me to make
some of the babies happier. Mis’ Con
nolly was distinctly unhappy. Charlie
wasn’t there, and the whole place had an
air of misery, for when Mis’ Connolly
suffers she has little heart for anything
else. She took the note I gave her, turned
it over in her hands, then burst out cry
ing.
Then she said, “Well, Miss, is it to
to make a livin’ child glad?” I told her
that I had intended it should do that, but
what did she mean by asking me so posi
tively about a living child?
She cried harder £han ever, then began
to put on her bonnet, and asked me to go
with her.
A GREAT CITY’S WRETCHED ALLEYS
We went down the street, then .turned
into a little side alley which seemed to
me the dirtiest 1 had ever been in. Ba
bies were stretched out on the pavement;
were walking at the risk of being run
over in the middle of the street; were
sleeping on doorsteps; while larger chil
dren were frantically playing around as
if even dirt and rags could not subdue the
natural desire of children for pleasure.
Untidy women were gossiping in the
doorways, buying unripe fruit from the
peddlers, or administering, without? any
regard for the feelings of the looker-on,
the punishment they thought due their
offspring. Into the meanest looking of
these houses we went. Doors were
thrown open, and nobody seemed to care
whether the rest of the world saw them
or not. Sewing machines were heard
everywhere, and, above all, every now
and then would rise the voice of a drunken
man singing one of the popular songs of
the day. Little girls were carrying tin
kettles of beer, and the smell of fried
fish filled the air until it seemed
heavy with grease. I don’t think I was
ever in such a place before, and yet I
thought I had seen the other side.
AFTER CLIMBING FOUR FLIGHTS,
we stopped and Mis’ Connolly rapped on
the first closed door we had seen. Just
outside Were two or three women evi
dently meaning to be neigborly, talking
in low whispers, while inside there was
nothing but death and misery. Before
them even the woman who seemed to be
trying to straigh ten the wretched room
was awed into silence. By the one win
dow sat a strong, healthy-looking young
man with a hard look on his face as if, no
matter what came, he wouldn’t soften.
On the bed lay a dead woman and beside
her a little baby. That Mis’ Connolly
bad already been there was proyved by
the fact that the tired eyes were closed,
that the wearied body was gowned in a
f>lain clean white nightdress, and that the
ittle baby had slip uoon it which I once
remembered was shown to me as the first
one that Charlie ever wore. The tired
hands that had worked and toiled were
crossed over the breast, upon which the
little baby would have rested if it had
ever &>ne anything more than give just
one cry of pain when it came into the
wretched world about it.
THE STRONG, GRIEF-STRICKEN HUSBAND.
I pressed Mis’ Connolly’s hand; she
knew what I meant, and she went over
and said to the man, “Tim, it’s all right.
They won’t have to be buried like pau
pers ; I’ve got the money as will bury Ida
an the baby as you would like ’em to be
buried, and now, my man, leave ’em for a
little while an’ come have a cup of tea
with Connolly an’me.”
She had to persuade him very hard, be
cause those dead ones were just as dear
to him as if he had been a millionaire.
But at length he agreed, as there were a
couple of neighbors there, to go with us.
I stayed to tea, because I wanted to find
out what made that man’s face look so
hard. I wanted to know where he had
got that look in his eye, which even the
<ieath of the woman he loved did, not
soften. I wanted to know what it all
meant. After tea was over, and Mis’
Connolly had taken a note from me to its
destination, I said to Tim, looking him
straight in the face: “Now, my man, tell
me what is the matter. I am sure you
know that I am sorry for you in your
trouble, and if it will make you any
happier, I tell you this now': your wife
and your little baby are not going to be
taken to a crowded city graveyard, but
away off to a quiet little place in the
country, where the birds will sing eternal
lullaby, and the trees rustle an eternal
prayer. But I want to know what is
your trouble—maybe I can help you. Liv
ing trouble, my friend, is a thousand
times worse than dead. What is the
matter?”
Evidently the thought of the quiet rest
ing place for his own had touched him,
for when I looked at him, his eyes were
full of tears, and then he said: “Ida
came from the country, and if she knows,
she’ll be glad to think that her and the
baby are goin’ back there. I’ll tell you
how it was. Miss; it all came through the
very thing that is supposed to help the
laboring man.
I WAS MAKIN’ A DECENT LIVIN’
“When I married Ida, an’ we fixed a
comfortable little home. You see the
hole she died in. Well, one day when we
were at work, the man from the union
came in and said we would stop. That
night there was a great speech in one of
the big halls made by a gentleman who is
great for the workingman, and who is
anxious to get some political position. He
told us how we were all slaves, and how
the master was grinding us down, an’ how
we ought to stand up for our rights. Ida
had saved a little money, and for a while
we lived on that. Then I had to ask the
union to help us: then they wouldn’t give
no more. Then I went to see the master,
and two or three of the other men went
with me. His talk was reasonable; he
wasn't sellin’ as much hisself, an’ so he
had to cu’t wages, but as soon as times got
better he was willin’ to raise 'em again.
I wanted to go back, and so did the other
men; but no, we was threatened all sorts
of things, and made to feel that we’d be
cowards an’ informers if we acted like
honest men, and worked. I looked at
Ida, walkin’ around there, not very
strong, because the baby hadn’t come
' then, and needin’ the little things that
women ought to have—a cup of tea. and
| you know, ipiss, what they are like; an’
j I couldn't give it to her. An’ she’d say
to me. ‘Tim, go back; show you’re your
own master,’ an’ I’d start to do it, an’ I’d
meet some of them damn talkers, an’
they’d tell me I ought to be no man's slave,
and would get me so fired up, as they
knew they would, and then I’d go back
home, and tell poor Ida all they said, an’
she’d cry. an’ keep cryin’. Weil, miss,
after a while, all our things was sold for
rent, and we came down to this yere
place, where a dog wouldn’t sleep, and
there Ida’s baby was born: and there it
died, an’ there she died. And it’s just a
little over a year since I brought her
from the country, bright and rosy
cheeked, an’ I'd promised I’d take care of
her. And how nave I done it? My God,
who is to blame?’ ”
FRIENDS IN TIME OF NEED.
And the strong man threw up his
hands and then buried his face in them
and cried like a little child. And before
such remorse I could only sit silent.
Mr. Connolly, who had been quite quiet
in one corner of the room, came over, put
his hands on Tim’s shoulder, and said:
“That’s right, my man, you feel better
now. It’s all been a mistake, but please
God you’ve got a whole lifetime to make
it right. Me an’ Mis’ here will give you
a helpin’ hand, an’ we’ve got a friend
down in the south, an’ I reckon us two
can manage so that you get down there
an’ you can work out in the open air for a
while. Tim, me boy, this is what comes
from only listenin’ to one side of the
story, I don’t say nothin’ against the
workingman, I’m one myself, and I think
he ought to stand up for bein’ treated
right, but since I’ve talked with some
of the gentlemen from the settlement,
I’ve learned that the man who hires
and the man who is hired must
work together in unison if we
want big wages. There are bad employ
ers, but there are more good ones, and
usually, Tim, me lad, when wages is re
duced there’s a reason for it. Now, I
ain’t blamin’ you, me boy, but you must
know now that these men who go
around talkin’ and excitin’ young chaps
like you, is paid to do it by the politi
cians, who, while they say they are the
workingman's friend, is nine t’ aes out
of ten, the very ones who r.rind him
down the hardest. Take some of these
men who make such fine speeches, and
ask them what they pay the men they
employ, and what they do when there is a
strike, and I guess you’ll find, Timmy,
that the ones who does the least talkin’ do
the most workin’. Now, brace up, and
be a man, and your friends will pull you
through. Not them frfends as you’ve
been tellin about, but them that found
you when you was in trouble. That’s the
way to know your friends, Tim.”
With another approving pat on Tim’s
shoulder, Mr Connolly stopped, and then
with a quiet “good-night,” they left me
alone waiting for Mis’ Connolly.
I TRIED TO THINK IT OUT.
I tried to see the right and wrong of it,
but always before me there came the pic
ture of the dead woman and her baby,
and it seemed to me that in the long
months before the baby came, and when
she saw no solution of the riddle, she
must have wished for death. For on the
thin, pinched face there was a look of
satisfaction, as if some unwhispered de
sire had been grantfft.
All that was two days ago. This morn
ing, very early, from Mis’ Connolly’s
little flat, for they had carried Ida and
the baby over there, the little funeral
procession started. Just before they
went, a kindly clergyman said a prayer,
and after that a girl whose voice is heard
oftenest in a different part of the town,
stood beside me, and with her eyes raised
as if she could see way beyond us all, she
sang, “There is a green hill far away.”
And it seemed to me as if resting there,
where the flowers never cease to bloom
and where the sunshine is eternal, were
Ida and her little baby.
When they had gone we waited for a
little while in quietness, and she said to
me, this good worker, “Have you ever
been able to solve the question?”
And I answered her, “No. All that we
can do is to do that which is closest to
our hands. Life is full of tragedies, and
the work in it is not sentimental. Nobody
can come down on the other side and-help
people by talking. All the preaching in
the world will do no good.”
IT IS WORK THAT TELLS.
The best lesson of cleanliness is that
task which may not be pleasant, bithing
somebody who is sick and poor. The
best sermon on generosity is the denying
yourself something to help the women
and child? m, and the sick who need it.
The best evidence of your belief in happi
ness here and hereafter is to give pleas
ure to those who scarcely know what it
means, and the best proof of your believ
ing that in the sight ot-God all men are
equal is your respecting the feelings of
others. Nobody can go on the other side
apd expect to pose as a Lady Bountiful,
but oh, there is so much work there to
do. Thank God! There are men and
women who are doing it gladly and
wisely! But always there is room for
more workers.”
And just then my little millionairess
looked at her silver watch, and straight
ened her cotton frock, and said to me:
“You are right, but I musn’t stop any
longer for lam due down street to help
take care of a woman who has got de
lirium tremens.”
It’s work, my friend, in this world that
is wanted.
In the future, I can see Tim working
away down south, and in this work he
will forget, for, thank God, we can do
that. And I, well, I think that those peo
ple who were kind enough to send me the
money for the living babies will not regret
the use to which it was put by—
Bab.
WILL HE BE A MURDERER?
Scientists Interested in the Child of
Dr. and Mrs. Meyer.
From the New York Press.
A little 2-year-old lad who is now re
siding in this city is causing no end of
speculation, controversy and discussion
Among our wisest and most erudite think
ers and scientists. The little fellow, all
ignorant of the interest his existence has
aroused among the wise men of the
greatest city of the western world,
pursues the even tenor of his way,
lisping out the words he is now
first learning how to use, building
houses with his blocks and then knock
ing them down again, and playing hide
and-seek and other children’s games with
those who are set to watch over him. He
is a very handsome child, and despite the
fear that his existence has engendered in
the minds of our great men as to what fiis
future will be, he is a happy, tractable
and interesting boy, and is very popular
with all those who know him. He is pre
cocious, too, and demonstrates the pos
session of a brain and will power of by no
means ordinary character. At times the
little fellow is imperious in his commands,
and if not obeyed he at once sets about to
make trouble.
He is a light hearted little fellow, with
a pair of very intelligent and impressive
blue eyes, a head so well shaped and
features so clearly chiseled that seeing
him one would perforce exclaim: “What
a pretty child!” His mind seems to run to
music and languages. Despite his tender
years, he has already picked up several
words of English, French and German,
which he has heard used, and invariably
remembers the words he has heard, anti
repeats them, using them with rare in
telligence. if he is playing with his toys
and a hand organ stopping in front of the
window begins to grind out its discordant
attempts at music, the little chap drops
his playthings and enjoins silence upon
any and every one who may be in the
room where he is. and hastening to the
window listens in an ecstasy of delight.
Then he claps his hands, as if in applause
over the treat to his senses.
BRIGHT CHILD, BUT .
A bright, promising child, one would
say. What is there in this boy to cause
speculation and discussion and contro
versy among the gray haired and spec
tacled men of science ? Why should they
be more interested in watching the future
of this child than of any other equally
bright, precocious and interesting boy?
That which causes their especial inter
est in the lad, and which has aroused
among them the discussion over him is
■ the fact that some of the most celebrated
thinkers of the period have deciarea that
it is more than probable that there is
born in this happy, bright faced, intelli
gent little member of the human race a
a tendency to commit murder, and that
unless by his training'and environment
that tendency is eradicated and overcome.
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the probabilities are that before the lad
has long passed the period of maturity,
he will be arraigned at the bar of justice
charged with the commission of some ter- (
rible crime.
The name this boy bears is Arthur
Meyer. Recently his father was sent to
Sing Sing prison for life after his convic
tion not long ago of the murder of Ludwig
Brandt, whom a jury of his peers de
clared he poisoned for the purpose of
swindling the life insurance companies in
which he had persuaded Brandt to take
out policies of insurance.
THE MOTHER AWAITS TRIAL.
The mother of the child, who figured so
frequently in the sensational episodes
which were connected with the memor
able trial and conviction of Dr. Meyer, is
now a prisoner in the Tombs awaiting her
trial on an indictment charging her with
active participation in the crime,
lof which her husband has been
i convicted. Her trial, the district
attorney declares, will take place
i during the current month, and exactly
the same evidence which was adduced in
convicting Dr. Meyer will be arrayed
against the woman. The peculiar feat
ure that interests the scientists is the
fact that this child came into being in
an sftmosphere of conspiracy against
human life. His birth occurred a few
weeks subsequent to the consummation
of the conspiracy to kill the unfortunate
i Brandt, and during the whole year before
I his birth there was being carried out the
i plot to poison the victim whom Dr. Meyer
had selected.
There is no subject to which scientists
are to-day devoting more thought and re
search than to that of the laws of heredity ■
and parental influence. Concerning these j
subjects interesting articles, in which the ;
thought of the world was concentrated, 1
have lately appeared in the Press.
It was shown that a mother’s devotion
to studs’ during the year preceding the
birth of her child would influence it in
after life to studiousness; that a musical
mother may, by proper care, give the
tastes of her children a trend in that
direction, and so on. This being true, it
is not surprising that scientists will won
der what the child created and born in
the very midst of murderous plots will
develop into.
In the case of the bright little fellow
who has been born to Dr. Meyer and his
wife, scientists agree that if the boy is
properly reared, it is more than probable
he will become a good and useful member
of society, but the greatest care, they
say. should be taken that his rearing, his
training and his instruction is of such a
character that whatever evil tendencies
may have been his unhappy birthright
will be thoroughly eliminated and erad
icated.
A PHYSICIAN’S VIEWS.
Dr. Allen Fitch, the expert in mental
diseases and chief examiner in lunacy of
the Bellevue Hospital staff, is of tne
opinion, too, that great care should be
taken in the training of this little fellow.
“I am a thorough believer,” said Dr.
Fitch, ‘-in the laws of'heredity, but I be
lieve also that almost any inherited ten
dency or inclination can be eliminated
from the character by careful training.”
A unique case of borrowing is reported from
Sherman Mills, Me. A man whose home was
destroyed by Are last winter has borrowed a
house from one of his friends, which he will
have hauled to his lot. and will occupy as a
dwelling this summer, returning it in the
fall.
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