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6 THE GUIDING HAND Worth Woman’s While. By FLORENCE TUCKER Consuelo Vanderbilt as a Mother. While so much is being said about American girls trading the good dollars of their fathers for nothing but titles and almost certain disappointment, the two most notable among them, Consuelo Vanderbilt, Duchess of Marlborough, and the unfortunate Coun tess Castellane (Anna Gould), it must be conceded are remarkable in their conspicuous position for one beautiful and ennobling quality which places them higher than any rank or money. It is the love they bear their children. And the Duchess of Marlbor ough—perhaps the Countes Castellane as well, we do not know—evidences in her training the true mother-love which is wise and sees beyond its own gratification and the indulgence which is but to the hurt of the child. These are her own words expressive of her views of the relation between parents and children: 1 ‘Mother-love is very strong, but common sense ought to be stronger. “Parents cannot afford to commit petty or grave faults in the presence of children and not expect the child to think out some reason for it and perhaps imitate. It would seem to me that if parents expect much from their children, they must always strive to give the best of themselves to the child and do all they can to choke down and remove their own im perfections. I recognize this is difficult work, but regard it as fair to the child. “Children must respect their parents, and they must learn that petty lying, petty acts of meanness, bring their own punishment. A brave father and a kindly mother have the right to ask of their children that the things which make a child mean shall not be done, and they have the right to punish for those wrongs. “It seems to me the great hope of motherhood is that a daughter or a son, no matter what the family station in life may be, shall grow up and face life’s full conditions pure, independent, womanly, or man ly, ashamed of cowardly things, always willing to support the truth.” The Stranger at the Door. Lord, when one comes and knocks at my house-door Whoe’er he be, whate’er his quest, Oh, let no thoughtlessness within send him Away, a not-invited guest! From wintry blast or noontide’s sultry heat Turn weary ones for grateful rest, My threshold be the ever-open door Where all may enter and be blest. And when comes one to serve me sheltered here Safe from the world’s great strife of need, My heart be tender as Thine own would be, That when I say to him, God speed! He go not out upon his way again Uncheered by kindly wrnrd and smile— That Thou hast given to me, share I with him, Remembering Thy love the while! And lest I should forget or careless grow, Dear Lord, come Thou, and be my Guest— Dwell Thou with me, and mind me evermore Os Duty’s and Love’s behest! The Man and the Pie. We are all familiar with the saying, “The way to a man’s heart is—by another route!” And how sensitive that masculine member is to the truth of it is attested in some lines we find in a recent maga zine, the expression of a sufferer who, like many another, seeks surcease in print. It’s funny how, if The Golden Age for March 8, 1006. we can only tell it, the pain is half alleviated. But this is his plaint: “0, lovely woman thou dost make The heart of man to ache and ache; And he, he he wise or otherwise, He falls—a victim of thine eyes, When, lovely woman, as his bride, He leads you to his fireside, Unless he be most wondrous wise, He falls—a victim of thy pies!” On first reading -what sticks out is those pies! And yet they are the very last thing mentioned. And this little fable points a moral—to those who can see it. Man is a doting creature; he likes to dote. And so, he sings her praises before he men tions the instrument with ■which she has so cruelly felled him—wherein is the lesson the story points: if Griselda had only known how to make those pies the chances are she would never, never have been ■weeping. For, the way to a man’s heart is—. And as he is peace-loving, preferring his ease and comfort, and thoroughly disliking anything else, the one thing Griseldas all should do is to learn before anything else, the art of constructing pies. Given a fair show Man is well enough. He may not be just con scious of it, but there is hardly more than one stip ulation he would in the beginning exact of the other party to the contract, and that is, “Feed me with food convenient for me. ’ ’ Certainly from her stand point no other need be necessary; for feed him as he likes and he is amiable to the point of—anything she wants! iSo, if Griselda would spare herself those tears which with bad pies will surely come, if she would rule the unquestioned, if unsuspected, sovereign in the heart of her lord, and would save herself, and her sex, from the cruelty of mocking verse and the publicity of a heartless press, let her—and she will be happy—let her be able to make a perfect pie! John Trotwood More has these forceful words to say concerning what we are apt to regard the little ness of our neighbors, forgetting that somewhere, maybe, we ourselves fall short. “Let not the littleness of people disturb you. Re member that if you have been made big enough to do big things in life, you have been made large enough to overlook little things. So do not imag ine you are great, so long as by sifting yourself you find jealousy, hatred, malice or even the spirit which frets, in your heart. These and Greatness sleep not in the same soul.” Appreciation is the sweetest and brightest reward that faithful service can know. How happy was the case of that noble woman and teacher, Miss Brooks, who died in Columbus, Ga., last week! And how beautiful the grateful devotion of the men and women whose early years had felt the impress of her lofty character! When toward the end of a long life of love and labor she could no longer pur sue her accustomed vocation these loyal friends banded themselves together in a society called by her name and raised a fund sufficient for her independ ent maintenance; and when her body was laid to rest as many of them as could followed it to the grave, paying tribute of their tears and their grate ful affection. Sitting in the Sunshine. A little child had one day been cross and trouble some. His mother, thinking she should correct him in some way, told him to sit for a while in the bay window where the sunshine was, and she said, “Per haps some of the sunshine will get inside of you and drive out the bad feelings.” One day not long after wards, the little fellow had been naughty again, and that night his mother noticed him sitting quietly and all alone for some time in the bay window. She asked him what he was doing there, and he replied: “I need some more sunshine in me.” What a good thing it would be if the world were full of bay windows! for surely many people need the sunshine in them quite as much as that little child. But I believe this old world is full of bay windows—at least it is full of happiness, and sun shine, and beauty. The trouble is, there are many people like the little boy sitting in the window at night—their outlook on the world is nearly always dark. They won’t sit in a “sunshiny” window themselves, and they are often the means of keeping other people from sitting there. They are doubtless those of whom Henry Ward Beecher was thinking when he said: “Some people think black is the col or of heaven, and that the more they can make their faces look like night the more evidence they have of grace.”—Mother’s Magazine. Mr. Andrew Carnegie’s love for his mother binds him to the heart of American womanhood more than all his libraries. In his letter acknowledging the honor done her by the Carnegie School of Tech nology at Pittsburg, which recently named the wom en’s department of this institution “Margaret Car negie,” he says: “I am deeply touched by this re membrance of one to whom I owe everything that a wise mother ever gave to a son who adored her.” A Blackboard Revival. One of the most unique revival efforts we have heard of is that being conducted in Macon this week by Rev. Alex W. Bealer, of Thomasville, who is as sisting Dr. J. L. White, of the First Baptist church. The Lord endows some men in a manifold way. Alex Bealer is one of the raciest, rarest press re porters in all the land. He is one of the best preachers and most beloved pastors in Georgia. And then he can flash on the blackboard a startling pre sentation of some vital scripture truth which will never leave the minds and hearts of children. This ■week he is giving these blackboard sermons as no one but Bealer can give them. If he only had time he ought to go to every church and win and bless the hearts of the young. A day’s breathing of fresh air upon the hills, or a few hours’ ramble in the beech woods’ um brageous calm, would sweep the cobwebs out of the brain of scores of toiling men who are now but half alive.—C. H. Spurgeon. Worry is itself a species of monomania. No mental attitude is more disastrous to personal achievement, personal happiness and personal use fulness in the world, than worry and its twin brother, despondency. The remedy for the evil lies in training the will to cast off cares and seek a change of occupation when the first warning is sounded by Nature in intellectual lassitude. Re laxation is the certain foe of worry, and “don’t fret one of the healthiest of maxims.—Dr. George W. Jacoby. That I may not be grasping, but content with a fair share of this world’s goods, willing to let others have theirs; that I may be diligent in the performance of duties and cheerful in manner; that I may be earnest in the pursuit of the right; that I may stand with open mind ready to receive the Truth in small affairs and in large, whether in learning new and better methods, or in receiving that philosophy necessary to a brave, tranquil, well praised, well-harmonized life.—-John Brisben Wal ker. Never bear more than one kind of trouble at a time. Some people bear three—all they have had, all they have now, and all they expect to have.— Edward Everett Hale.