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6 Worth Woman's While By FLORENCE TUCKER The Obstacle of Masculine Criticism. As a woman proceeds along her march of ad vancement with ever increasing rights, man is be coming pretty well subjugated. We are not sure but are visible along the rim of the horizon faint signs of a return to a time when, according to his tory or tradition, woman"s was the first position. For there was a time—they say—when away back in the early, misty, hazy days, she was not only man’s superior mentally, but physically; on her devolved the duty of providing for the family, and hers, not man’s, was the name that descended with posterity. The ‘‘rights” which are now being so rapidly and surely acquired are. only resumed after a long dispossession. At least this is what we are told; the assurance having reached us somewhat as travelled the news that the sky was falling in the old barn-yard tale—passed on from one to an other. So that we will not take the responsibility of assuming it could be proven; we only say that the signs of the times point, ever so dimly, to such condition now. Man who, through so many years, has held su premacy, how acquired we do not pretend to know, does at last show signs of yielding to the pressure brought to bear—recent statistics prove that he is even receding bodily into a second place, the height of woman being shown to have increased while that of the average man is less; yet while philosophi cally accepting the situation, he still evinces the disposition now and then, to assert himself, and when he does speak out it is in no uncertain tones. At a woman’s suffrage convention a short time ago, one of the prominent members in a fervent and con vincing discourse expressed herself thus. ‘‘Home is not the same as it used to be. Family affection is perennially the same, but country clubs, automo biles, the comforts of modern travel have transform ed society and home life, and although we are none the less domestic, they are carried on under dif ferent circumstances. The city and state have now control of so much that hitherto were under the direct control of the housewife, and they so often administer these functions so badly, that if we wo men are to preserve a charming home we must fa miliarize ourselves with the work of health boards, school boards, park boards, smoke commissions, pure milk and pure food commissions. These points of contact, if intelligently understood, lead us di rectly from the home to exert an influence on the municipality. Do you not see that in asking the bal lot as a means to an end the women are simply en deavoring to get back under partial control the things that were once theirs to govern, the educa tion and health of their children?” A man replied—delivered himself of a speech in which we fancy we discover traces of long-pent feeling, and even emphasized it in cold, clear type, the danger of which is too well known, it spreads as does contagion. This is what he said: “That is logic in an absolute circle. Home is certainly not the same as it used to be for thou sands American families, when the head of the family was so full and happily occupied in t-lie right rearing of her children and in making home com fortable and attractive for them and for her hus band that country clubs, automobiles and modern travel could not possibly have tempted her from her roof-tree. Family affection may be the same, but it has most amazing means of manifesting it self, with the husband at his club, the wife at her club, and the children in the care, from the kinder garten stage to the college, of persons not inter ested in them beyond the salary paid them for that interest. The city and state now have improper con trol, to be surej of much that hitherto was in the domain of the housewife, and they have it princi under the swaying of faddists, and has attempt main, under the swaying faddists, and has attempt- The Golden Age for April 5, 1906. ed to break into domains that were never intended for her. She has made as big a muss of it as the city and state have in their attempts to administer func tions proper to women. Yet, just like the woman who would pass on herself and her sisters to the domain of the ballot, there are thousands of mis guided American women victims of sociologizers of one kind and another who are unable to perceive that the simplest means of regaining, to the welfare of the race, control of the things that were once theirs, is to take control of them, to take charge of the education and health of their children. That is a reform in which American women would have the solid, substantial and enthusiastic support of every decent man in the country. There would be no way of preventing the reform. The ballot of women would not be needed to further it, but might tend to increase the embarrassment of the present situation. It would be better for the women to be occupied with the education and health of their children instead of gadding around to this club or that, packing legislative galleries or com mittee rooms in the furtherance of cocialistic schemes, or having their emotions misdirected by hired agitators passing on an ever-accumulating mass of misinformation and half-digested theories. Because so many women have deliberately deserted the home on account of false notions of life and the part they are to play in it, is the reason why home is not the same as it used to be, and why so many men capable of making women happy, hesitate to attempt to found a home. Because so many of these female home-deserters, by the auto mobile route, or the club route, or the sociologizing route, have frantically insisted upon the state as suming women’s functions, is why human society to-day is so awry. Women’s assertions of her home rights is the surest cure for the emasculated social ism which now curses the United States.” Did anybody ever? Ah,what an uphill undertaking it is after all! Not only to be called home-deserters; neglectors of the children; the very head and front of all offending, the actual cause of “human so ciety being to-day so awry;” but to be threatened, warned that because of the women themselves, men hesitate to attempt to found a home! Could any thing be more discouraging? And when everybody knows the primal, the engaging and absorbing aim is the universal good! “To exert an influence on the municipality!”—doesn’t that mean the univer sal good? If any men there are like this, who are going to rush into print, a very set of incendiaries spread ing conflagration everywhere, the long, hard road will only be the longer and the harder. But, then, to think of the goal, the final height, the return to supremacy that once the sex knew! Plant patience in the garden of thy soul, The roots are bitter but the fruits are sweet, And when at last it stands—a tree complete— Beneath its tender shade the burning heat And burden of the day shall lose control:— Plant patience in the garden of thy soul. —H. Austin. The Froebel Society of Berlin, which has made a psychological science of the system of teaching very small children has introduced an entirely new department in infantile pedagogies. It is to have the mothers attend the kindergarten in company with the children, and the results are eminently gratifying. It is claimed that mothers after a course at the school, not only are provided with means for entertaining and instructing the little ones—alack which most have experienced—but they have a wider understanding of child-life. Among the things for the child’s amusement which the parent is set to learn, is the cutting of silhouettes, and drawing with pencil or crayon, the fantistic creatures the budding imagination delights in. Summer Song. The mill goes toiling slowly around, With steady and solemn creak, And my little one hears in the kindly sound The voice of the old mill speak; While round and round those big white wings Grimly and ghost-like creep. My little one hears that the old mill sings “Sleep, little tulip, sleep!” The sails are reefed and the nets are drawn And, over his pot of beer, The fisher against the morrow’s dawn, Lustily maketh cheer; He mocks at the winds that caper along From the far-off clamorous deep. But we, we love their lullaby song Os “Sleep, little tulip, sleep!” Shaggy old Fritz, in slumber sound, Moans of the stony mart; To-morrow how proudly he’ll trot you around Hitched to our new milk cart! And you shall help me blanket the kine, And fold the gentle sheep, And set the herring a-soak in brine; But now, little tulip, sleep! A Dream-One comes to button the eyes That wearily droop and blink, While the old mill buffets the frowning skies And scolds at the stars that wink; Over your face the misty wings Os that beautiful Dream-One sweep, And, rocking your cradle, she softly sings: . “Sleep, little tulip, sleep!” —Eugene Field. -I A firm in Boston offered as an advertisement, a sum of money for the best answer to the question, “What constitutes success?” A Western woman submitted the following, and received the prize of $250: “He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of the lit tle children; who has filled his niche and accom plished his task; who has left the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem or a rescued soul; who has never lack ed appreciation of earth’s beauty or failed to ex press it; who has always looked for the best in others and given the best he had; whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction.” Some of the most prominent financiers of our country, conspicuous the world over since the re cent disclosures in certain circles, were hit when Dr. Lyman Abbott said, “The portraits of the big gest pick-pockets of the country do not hang in the rogues’ gallery. The man who takes money which he has not honestly earned from the pockets of the people at the gaming table, or in the specu lative shop, or in the industry in which young chil dren are ground up in the sweat shops in order to supply cheap goods, is far worse a robber than the petty thief on the streets.” One thing very noticeable in this age of advance ment is the number of people we know and the few friends we really possess. We squander our time on a hundred different acquaintances, instead of having two or three real friends. Young women invite us to weddings and expect a showy present to place among the trophies of their marriage day. We are invited to receptions and teas, where we meet many people and know but few, and we lunch and dance with people we meet probably once a year. This is the result of the circumstances.—Selected.