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they said they lost time and money breaking them
in. And so "there you are. I hold that the finest
business women will make the best wives, mothers
and home-makers, and that the training such a
woman receives in the business world will make her
more capable in home duties.
I grant you that the temptations of city life are
many, but those who have never been tempted de
serve no honor for never having yielded. And I
have observed, too, that the majority of the im
pudent, impertinent, immodest girls you find working
uptown are those who were raised in the city with
out much restraint or home training, and they are
already quite accomplished in all the fast ways of
their set before they apply for a position.
The average country girl is too timid to brave the
perils of the city alone, and, even though she some
times longs for the excitement and gaiety that she
imagines she could get in the city, she usually de
cides that it is better to settle down to contentment
with her rustic sweetheart than to seek doubtful suc
cess and a more polished beau in the city. The
country girl who goes to the city to make her way
is usually quite courageous, self-reliant, high-minded
and possessed of a good amount of common sense and
stability. She knows pretty well what she wants, and
is seriously in earnest about getting it. She has con
sidered the obstacles and unpleasant conditions that
she will encounter, and they do not take her una
wares. She clings to her womanly ideals with splen
did persistency, and is pretty apt to succeed. Now,
I am not claiming that all the best business women
come from the country, nor that all the sorry ones
come from the city.
I suspect, Mr. Ivy, that if you had Investigated you
would have found that most of the ladies In that
“parlor saloon for ladies” were society women, de
votees of fashion, who had never worked a day in
their lives.
I am afraid, too, that the home occupations you
mention for girls would not pay out. One who de
pended upon canning, preserving, and evaporating
fruit for market would have been left in the lurch
this year. Raising butter and vegetables to sell is
not practicable when one lives several miles from
market, and everybody who was raised on a farm
thinks that a chicken eats more than It comes to
before it is big enough to sell.
That’s a nice-sounding little couplet about the
bird in the nest, but I have noticed that birds al
ways leave the nest as soon as they are able to
fly, even though there are hawks and owls and cats
and snakes ready to devour them if they get a
chance. ' '
On the first page of The Golden Age for August 22,
the managing editor has copied a piece from some
other paper about the woman in business. When
I first glanced at that clipping T thought that the
managing editor himself had written it, as he usually
writes everything on that page; and I was disap
pointed, for I had been liking everything that he had
written. But when I read the piece I found that
the part I didn’t like was copied, and that when the
managing editor commented on It he had said just
the right thing just as he had been doing. If you
did not read that piece, go read It. It expresses
the truth of the situation splendidly. S. T. P.
*
A STRANGE EXPERIENCE.
As this Is the month for Halloween, I am going to
tell a little ghost story, and ask that others relate
any unusual or supernatural experience they may
have had. When I was nineteen years old. and had
returned to my dear old home in the outskirts of a
Georgia town, I received a letter from Mary C ,
my dearest friend, when at school, saying that she
would pay.me a visit and would arrive the following
day. She came, and her advent made a little sen
sation in the quiet town. She was beautiful, In a
sumptuous, splendid way—tall, nobly-framed, with
dark, brilliant eyes, fine features and a glowing bru
nette complexion. She was greatly admired, and
had several ardent suitors, but she gave her prefer
ence to my eldest brother. They became engaged,
but the engagement was not announced, and Mary
still had suitors for her hand. Bert, my brother, be
came wildly jealous and he and Mary had frequent
love quarrels. One day, when they were about to
ride, they had a disagreement that was unusually
serious, which ended in Bert, going off to town and
Mary taking her ride on horse-back alone. The
horse she rode was my saddle mare, a fine black
pnfmal, spirited, but gentle. It was about an hour
before sunset that she rode away, waving her hand
to m© as she turned In the saddle and saw me watch
inf her. Tima passed, it was growing dark, and she
The Golden Age for October 10, 1007.
had not returned. I was in my room making some
change in my dress for supper, when as I looked
around I saw her standing before the window on
the outside. “Ah, you are back!” I cried. “Well,
come in and dress; we are to have company for
supper.” Then as I gave her another glance, I said,
“What is that on your forehead; mud, isn’t it? Did
you get a fall?” She made no answer and turned
away. I kept on dressing, expecting to see her
enter every minute, but she did not appear. When
I was dressed, I came out on the piazza and saw my
brother at the gate on horseback. I asked him where
he was going, and he said, “To look for Mary.
Something has happened to her. The mare came
up to the lot a few minutes ago with no rider.”
“Why, Mary is here,” I said; “I saw her five min
utes ago. She came to my window. She is some
where In the house.” He waited while I went through
the house calling her, and when I returned with the
word that she could not be found, he set off at a
gallop. He had not been gone fifteen minutes
when we heard him returning, his horse at full speed.
He had found her lying unconscious by the road,
blood flowing from a wound in her forehead. The
horse was hurriedly harnessed to the buggy and my
brother with a servant man drove rapidly to the
place wherb the girl lay insensible, and seemingly
dead.
She was brought to the house and a physician
summoned. He said she had concussion of the brain
and the chances were that she would die before re
gaining consciousness. For two days and nights she
lay like a statue of marble, not seeming even to
breathe. On the third night, as I and my agonized
brother sat watching beside her bed. her eye lids
fluttered and slightly opened. My brother leaned
over and called her name, and saw her lips move
as though she tried to answer him. The next day
she save other evidences of being alive, and after be
ing 111 of brain fever for three weeks she slowly re
covered. She is now the happy wife of my brother.
She had no consciousness of what befell her when
she lay dead to the world, but had a vague recol
lection of seeing me and hearing me speak to her.
I feel sure that her spiritual being left its bodily ten
ement and that it was this —or her astral body—that
appeared at the window of mv room. I have read
and heard of similar apparitions. I would like to
know what the astral body is.
MARGARET NEELY BROWN.
Savannah, Ga.
R
THE OLD LOOM IN THE GARRET.
She had been reared in luxury, but reverses came
and one dark dav she realized that she was alone in
the world and without means of support. She was
no longer young, and she could not hone to enter
anv of the new avenues of work and livelihood that
are to the vonng woman with modern train
ing. She still had her old home, now sadly dilap
idated and out of repair. One dav she went up into
the mnstv. cobwebhv attic and there, among other
and disused nieces of furniture, she saw the
old loom, on which in the days of the Civil war had
been woven the grav uniform worn hV her brave
father on the battle field and the homesnnn that had
clothed th° members of the household and the negro
slaves. There lay the nieces of the faithful old
loom, carrying her back to the davs of her earlv child
hood —when, after the war had swent awav their
ample fortune, she had boon taught hv her mother
tn spin end to weave cloth and coverlets. Suddenly,
she rpeollected how much thesn beautifully woven
old time coverlets had been admired. She had onlv
ipft and it had won a. nrlzp at the county fair.
Whv could she not weave others? Hastily she brush
ed thn dust and cobwebs from the old loom, and car
ried ft« nieces down stairs one hv nne and after
much difficulty succeeded in getting them in place.
Php than bought thread and dv°d it the colors she
dorin’d. pud with a little heln from a neighbor she
ent the warn arranged on the beam of the loom
find drew the threads through the slats of fine split,
ynpds made hv her father’s hands and she began with
much trepidation to weavn a coverlet, taking the old
nnp cho possessed aa pattern. The coverlet when
cnmnlpted snld readily, and she wove another and
another. Snnn h«r business Increased! she had more
than she could do; she had another lonm built and
taught some nf the girls of the neighborhood how
tn weayp counterpanes and cnyorlets. The ‘ oblom
cf pni* support had been hv the /d oast
away Innm of the attic. Another victory had boon
p-ainpd—the victory over her own rebellions heart.
Opp dav it came to her as she sat weaving that the
destiny of all human beings is being woven by the
Divine hand and after a design which Is created
by him, and seen by the spirits about hie throne.
We see only the wrong side and grow discontented
and rebellious. Faith teaches us to wait, and in
time even in this life the design will become plain
and we shall see why our feet were turned into
ways that seemed dark and devious. We may be
able to see the design of our lives in this life —to
see It darkly as through a glass, but in the life to
come the pattern shall be plainly apparent and we
shall recognize its beauty. JULIAN.
“FOUR LITTLE GIRLS IN MANHOOD”
English now bids fair to be the universal lan
guage. In India and China it Is spoken by the native
officials with great fluency, but occasionally they
make ludicrous mistakes. A missionary to China
In a very entertaining letter relates an amusing ex
perience he had while traveling by rail from Dhubri
to Calcutta. He had with him four little native
girls, whom he was taking to a mission school. He
had provided the children with half tickets; a ticket
Inspector at one of the intermediate stations came
up to the missionary and asked, “May I Inquire if
the four little girls are under your lordship’s charge?”
“Yes, they are under my care.” “Then they should
have full tickets your grace. They are all in their
manhood.” “Indeed. I was not aware of that,” re
plied the missionary in tones of grave astonishment.
“I assure your worship it is a fact” solemnly re
turned the inspector, “I have been talking with them,
and —” Here the occupants of the car began to
laugh and soon the crowded car was convulsed with
mirth. The ticket man glared at the crowd and went
on. fuming with indignation at being laughed at,
why he could not imagine. The train moved off and
the ticket examiner rushing to the telegraph office
wired an urgent message. “Four girls in manhood
traveling on half tickets. Please arrange.”
The recipients of the telegram could make nothing
of it. hut imagining that something was amiss, called
in the police, who. after much cogitation, decided it
must mean that four female criminals were trav
eling for some evil purpose in male attire. Accord
ingly when the down mall drew up at Scaldah
nlatform a file of constables with a sergeant at their
head were in waiting and kept the doors of the cars
all fastened while they scrutinized every passen
ger. They were utterly nonplussed until the tel
egram was shown to the missionary who succeeded
in explaining the matter to the station master.
An ©ven more typical case was that of a Parsee
doctor, who called professionally on two ladles,
whose husbands were absent on duty. Thinking to
console with them gracefully, he said. “I am very
sorry to see a couple of such abandoned women.”
ZETA.
»?
AMERICA’S MOST FAMOUS LIVING WRITER.
Shouldn’t we Americans bp nroud of Mark Twain’
His career shows, unmistakably, what “letters” will
do for a man—or a woman. One has only to wield
the nen with judgment and genius, and it will point
to fame and monev and position. Mark Twain has
been abroad, and has heen treated just as well as.
perhaps better than, some of our most distinguished
diplomats and statesmen—and lots better than our
millionaires who go across every little while to show
off their monev for the amusement of scoffing for
eigners. Mark Twain was wined and dined and feted
and flattered. and “deeroed” and his head was not
turned, and he never felt for a moment any abate
ment of patriotism. He is first and last a genuine
American; a “Tom Sawyer” grown up and dressed in
white flannels: a “Huck Finn” traveling abroad and
hobnobbing with the nobilitv, and always seeing
the humor and the fun of life and men and con
ditions —and women. He sees more about women
that Is funny than any other writer, and turns even
“a fit of hysterics” into something to laugh at. He
has done everything In literature worth doing, and
we are proud of him, and justly so. His “Joan of
Arc” is fine—no other word so aptly and fully ex
presses it —nothing better has ever been published
than “A Connecticut Yankee.” His “Mental Teleg
raphy” made scientists stop and take notice. Buy
his hooks and you have a varied and full library—
his last “Tramp Abroad” has shown us unmistak
ably just what the English think of him and of
his works—-and, as I said awhile ago, his career
illustrates the possibilities of a life given to pen work
—of course genius must go hand in hand with the
work—“a mind attuned” as' the poet says. is abso
lutely essential to success. Mark Twain has “a mind
attuned,” and a hand ready and tireless, and a pen
words fall me? LITTLE WHITE GIRL,
Long Beach, Miss. 4 J
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