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6 Worth Woman s While ‘‘How Often We Forget.” By KATE WHITING PATCH. We are too heedless of the 1-ttle things Pone for our comfoit by cur own each day; Too thoughtless of the cheek our lips might kiss; The grateful word—so short a word to say! We notice not the tired feet hurrying On our small errands; fail to heed the meek Word of reproof, nor sicken with the thought That at our blunders less kind lips might speak. God trains His angels in our simple homes, While we search skyward for the radiant wings; And heaven’s light plays about the patient souls Who at our heartstones daily toil and sing— How often we forget, till dear tired hands And tender watchful eyes Weary of waiting for our tardy thanks Slip into Paradise. A Woman’s Work in Havana. It is always pleasant to record a w r ork of noble unselfishness, such as is to be found in that of Mrs. C. C. Ryder, who has been laboring for many months for the prevention of cruelty to animals in Havana. In that Semi-oriental city there are no state officers and no society such as our Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, but if the offenders are brought to summary justice they are punished by the authorities. However, it is ignorance as much as wanton cruelty with which Mrs. Ryder has to contend, and this she soon dis covered when she began her work. These people say: “But an animal cannot suffer pain; and, anyway, it is ours; we can kill it if we wish!” To convince these poor Cubans that they must not use a dying horse nor torture a sick dog or cat, is the mission of this American woman. She dis covered that disabled animals were sold at auction in Cuba, and then over-worked by the poverty stricken purchaser. This practice seems inhuman on the part of the authorities, and it is one which Mrs. Ryder is endeavoring to have changed. She often purchases animals herself, and then has them mercifully shot. First, however, she endeavors to cure them of any minor ills, herself paying for all costs of medi cine, treatment, etc. Slowly at first, and now more rapidly, she has won friends and co-workers, and although there is no regularly organized society in Havana, still her work is being recognized, and she is meeting with -wider and wider co-operation on the part of citizens, strangers and the municipal authorities. One of her methods of convincing the latter of the validity of her claims is to exhibit the kodak pictures which she often takes of cases of cruelty, and of animals which are being worked while they are lame, sick or otherwise disabled. As an educational factor in her work, Mrs. Ryder buys hundreds of copies of “Black Beauty,” which has been -well translated into Spanish, and dis tributes that stirring story broadcast among the ignorant Cubans. Her w’ork seems almost limit less, and would daunt any but a person inspired with her great and good cause. American Dainties in Europe. So great has been the demand for American con fections, as well as for genuine American soda water—especially the perennial “ice cream soda,” —that two enterprising American women have re cently opened an American candy shop in Berlin, at 126 Potsdamer Strasse, and their success with the American-made dainties has been wonderful. However, the beginning of their venture was beset with difficulties because of their ignorance of the many legal requisites which surround new enter prises in Germany—especially if these enterprises be conducted by foreigners. The Golden Age for October 4, 1906. It is said that the privilege to sell soda-water was granted only by the prompt aid of Miss Maude Roosevelt de Vinson, who happened to be patroniz ing the shop during the opening of the American soda fountain, and who witnessed the “injunction” which restricted the sale of “drinks” without a special license! The proprietors of the store were dismayed at this requirement, for licenses in Ger many'are only issued after years (and yards) of red tape. Miss de Vinson, however, showed her right to kinship with the “strenuous Teddy” by appearing, herself, before the august local Ger man potentate and pleading so eloquently for the license that, in defiance of all precedent, it was granted the same afternoon, and early enough to enable the fair American girl to present it herself to the amazed and grateful owners of the shop! As compensation, Miss de Vinson requested to be allowed to draw the first glass of the beloved bev erage, and from that time on the American store has prospered, much to the joy of the American colony, as well as to the stolid Germans who ate being initiated into the delights of American con fections and beverages. Some Old Neighbors. (Continued from last -week.) She knew it was Mr. Barker by the likeness to the one on the tombstone— Mrs. Barker, coming in with the butter, she was startled out of her romancing, and turning they both discovered the visitor standing awkwardly in the door. 11 Come in, come in, Mr. Farris! ’ ’ there was a lit tle sharpness of excitement in the widow’s voice r and the hand with which she gave Clarissa the plate and gently propelled her toward the door betokened the presence or approach of something unusual— it was nervous. “I reckon you forgot to bring a napkin, Clar issy, ” she said, unconscious that at the moment she -was folding and putting it into her pocket. Clarissa was perplexed; she walked slowly in at her gate. “Mrs. Barker’s got company,” she said, going in and sitting down. “It must be somebody she didn’t want to see; she was in a perfect swivit at the sight of him—actually put the napkin into her pocket instead of on the butter, and I was afraid to ask her for it!” “Did it appear to be some stranger?” asked her mother. “I hope it’s no trouble, though it’s little business she has.” “I don’t know’ who it was—some man from the country, his buggy is in front of the gate.” “Old man,” said Mrs. Brewton a week or so later, addressing Mr. Brewton by the terms of en dearment given him in early married days—“who is that at Mrs. Barker’s again? That’s the same buggy was standing there the other day,” she said looking from her couch by the window. “I don’t know; some of her country friends, I reckon,’’ he replied. But coming in on Sunday from his visit he remarked while handing his wife a drink of cool water—“ Miss Jinnie says Mrs. Barker must have a beau—that man’s there again” —and chuckled as he went out with the dipper. “Tut!” said Mrs. Brewton, “Miss Jinnie ought not to talk that way!” But whatever might be her remarks they were founded only on surmise; Mrs. Barker had been too long able to manage her own affairs to discusse them now with any one, and really, what need w’as there? It surely seemed simple enough—a friend stoppped to see her once, twice, or even three times. Who could make it a matter of liore than passing note? But Miss Jinnie tempered her voice to a less aggressive key, and called over the fence as each chanced to be in the garden. “Your vegetables are looking very well!” “Yes,” responded Mrs. Barker, “the rains have been seasonable.” “I never cared for vegetables myself, but I guess they come in right well, you seem to be having a good deal of company.” “Well, no; not more than usual,” was the re sponse. “I see a buggy in front of your gate right oft en— ” But Mrs. Barker had whisked off to the further end of a second row of beans; Miss Jinnie’s sunbonnet went up in the air which she sniffed dis dainfully. She had made up her mind to know, and met with the shortest of rebuffs. One morning toward the end of September Clar issa having risen early, sat on the back steps waiting for breakfast. As she idly prodded the earth about a flowering geranium her attention was attracted by an unusal commotion in the lane; the butcher, assisted by two boys was leading Becky out from her stall, Mrs. Barker was giving orders, and Jack ran around in a high state of excitement. Clarissa ran to the fence. “Why, Mrs. Barker,” she cried, “what are you going to do?” “Kill her,” was the answer, with the expression of a Stoic; “I know there ain’t nobody’ll be as good to her as she’s been used to.” And before Clarissa could find words in her dumb amazement, Becky was led away, and Mrs. Barker had picked up her broom and rake, and was off to the cemetery, though it was not Saturday. Coffee was left untouched that morning; Clarissa could not bring herself so far to forget her love for the friend and pet of her whole life. “Why, child,” exclaimed Mrs. Brewton, “that cow was as old as you are! And I’m sure there was no earthly thing Mrs. Barker loved better!” “Unless it’s Jack, mother—she didn’t kill Jack.” That afternoon just before three o’clock, Mrs. Brewton remarked, “I see the minister going in to see Mrs. Barker.” And shortly afterward Mr. Far ris was seen driving up in his buggy, followed by a boy in a one-horse wagon; the former hitched his horse and went in, but his son, as the boy appeared to be, remained waiting in the wagon. After a little the door opened and Mr. Farris appeared, bearing a huge trunk, which he placed in the wagon, the minister and Mrs. Barker coming out afterward, with Jack, who was helped into the buggy. At this Clarissa’s excitement could no longer brook restraint. “Mother, Mother!” she cried, “she is getting into the buggy with him. And there! The minis ter is shaking hands with them!” Mrs. Brewton raised herself on her elbow. “Who ever would have thought she would marry him?” she said. “What will Miss Jinnie say?” But as usual there was little Miss Jinnie could say. Mrs. Barker was gone, the part of the house reserved for herself was shut up, and only her lodgers left in possession. Six weeks later, -when the November rains had be gun to fall and the -world was dull and drear, Mr. Farris’ son again drove his wagon up to the old hitching place, but this time Mrs. Barker and Jack as well as the trunk were his care, all of which he deposited and departed. And nobody ever knw the why nor the wherefore. Some said, “She didn’t like 'the children;” but she said nothing. Miss Jinnie’s interest in her neighbor was lively, as her remarks betokened. But Mrs. Becker went in her house and shut the door, and it remained practically shut ever after on that eventful absence, the only time she had ever been known to go away. On the Saturday morning after her return Claris sa, standing at the dining room window, remarked: “It looks natural to see Mrs. Barker -with her broom and rake going to the cemetery. I wonder what she’ll do withoqt Becky?”