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THE TWENTY-FOURTH PSALM.
A Paraphase.
The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof,
The treasures below and the glories above;
The mountains and rivers, the islands and seas
Behold! He is maker and master of these!
Who, then, shall ascend to the mountains of God,
Who, then, shall draw near to His Perfect abode?
He who is untainted of heart and of hand
Alone in the infinite presence shall stand.
Swing open, ye portals eternal; ye grim
Gates of darkness and death, at the coming of Him
Let the mighty be bowed, and the haughty be dumb,
For the Lord of the earth, in His glory, shall come.
Who, then, is the Lord of the earth? It is He
Who kindled the stars and encircled the sea,
Who quickened the soul in an infinite birth,
While earth shall endure, He is Lord of the earth,
Jehovah, the mighty; Jehovah, the strong,
The hero in Conflict, the slayer of Wrong.
Swing open, ye portals; yea, open ye gates;
The King of all earth at the threshold a’waits;
Proclaim it, ye heavens, ye winds bear it forth,
That Jehovah Sabaoth is Lord of the earth.
—ARTHUR GOODENOUGH.
Brattleboro, Vermont.
CHAT.
“Where do the birds sleep these cold, stormy
nights?’’ a little boy asked of me as he listened to
the whistling wind and shivered though the fire was
glowing and the room close and warm. Ah! where
indeed do they sleep—our “little brothers of the air”
—our friends and benefactors. There are so few
bushy evergreen trees left in the woods and the
wind would find the little waifs in every hollow and
nook if it were as bitter and searching as it was
last night, when
“The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold.”
Even the sparrows will be frozen,” I thought as I
lay listening to the blustering of Boreas. And my
poor hyacinth! Why would they insist on being the
early flow r er that catches the ice nip! But this morn
ing the feathered pariahs were chirping for crumbs
as usual, and through the ice the hyacinth stalks
thrust their white blooms —alive and sweet. But
the birds surely suffered, and some of them died,
no doubt. Once, after just such a night, I found
a pathetic little bunch of frozen bluebirds that had
sought shelter in a brush-pile which had been a
cedar tree, until the axe of the land-clearer laid it
low. The birds had sought their old roosting place
in the cedar and not finding it, had tried vainly to
keep warm in the leafless brush.
Speaking of birds, have you seen the beautiful
colored pictures of birds that are fast disappearing,
which are sent out by the Audubon Society, together
with printed leaflets making urgent appeal to save
the birds? Harrowing stories of cruelty are given
in these leaflets —cruelty, particularly to the plum
age birds of Florida and South Louisiana. Most
beautiful of these and now most rare is the snowy
heron, but unfortunately, these splendid birds gather
in a flock during the mating season and build their
nests in trees close together in some secluded swamp,
which the prowling plume hunter, greedy for gain,
is sure to find and sure to make wholesale slaughter
of the happy colony, cutting from each dead bird
the beautiful white aigret, which is called the “nup
tial plume” because it grows out to perfection only
in the mating and nesting time. The dead herons
when despoiled of their plumes, are left to strew
the ground while their starving young in the nests
above cry in vain for. their parents, the piercing,
heartrending cry being heard from afar. This awful
slaughter will continue as long as there are birds to
slay, or women to want aigrettes for their hats. Is
it not strange that any woman should refuse to sign
the Audubon Society pledge, to wear no feathers of
birds that must be killed in order to secure their
plumes? Yet a committee of St. Louis ladies of in
telligence and social position, refused to sign this
pledge, saying with careless levity, through their
speaker, “I refuse, because I shall probably want to
wear an aigrette on my hat, and if I do, I shall
wear it without one scruple of conscience.”
We have an interesting gathering today, provided
all whose nards I have sent in are admitted. Adelyn
THE HOUSEHOLD
A Department of 'Expression Tor Those Who Teel and Think.
The Golden Age for February 27, 1908.
Smith gives a thoughtful exposition of our threefold
nature and the necessity of keeping this trinity
well balanced. Old Woman is in earnest in her
talk about men and cats. I think it is the first time
the male of the feline species has been compared
with man. It is the woman who has had to bear,
from away back, the accusation of being “catty”—
treacherous and capricious—prone to conceal claws
under velvet sheaths. A rhymester, who was cyn
ical perhaps through being jilted by his sweetheart,
says:
“Woman, woman, whether lean or fat,
You’re in face an angel and in soul a cat.”
And now our dear Old Woman has turned the tables.
Alice Calhoun’s lovely poem, “Roger and Jean,” re
calls the charming old song, “Mary of the Glen,” the
last verse of which ran:
“He has neither lands nor leases, but his cheek is
cherry red,
And finer than your fleeces are the curls upon his
head.
And though he’s never spoke for me, I know he loves
me true,
And his heart it would be broke for me if I should
marry you.”
I receive many praises and kind words about the
Household and letters of inquiry as to almost every
thing mentioned. Several ask me when they may
obtain the seed of the bene —that very useful food
plant for poultry and also for human bipeds. I have
sent inquiries to friends in Florida about its seed
and will let our correspondents know as soon as I
hear.
Arthur Goodenough’s poem aside from the stately
music of the verse, is a perfect paraphrase of a noble
psalm. Mr Goodenough has written true poetry
enough to fill a volume. Annie Peavy, the gifted
shut-in girl, of Peavy, Alabama, is still agent for
'Alice Calhoun’s novel, “When Yellow Jessamine
Blooms” —a pure, sweet, wholesome story, the read
ing of which will refresh the heart. M. E. B.
Wttb Out Gorresponbents
THE TRUE REASON PLAINLY TOLD.
Mr. Ivy, I am sure your heart is in the right place,
but you do'get things mixed. Just come over here
beside me and let’s get our ideas straight. Don’t
look scared; I know it’s leap-year and you confessed
to being single, and right now I’ll answer your ques
tion. Do I think it a crime to be a bachelor? No
indeed, provided you are not like what the old man
said about his mule that had balked, “Done made up
his mind to stay where he is.” A man lives but half
a life when he stays single all his years. M. E. B.
insists that I would make the right kind of a wife
for the proper man and it is strange to me why the
men I know are so blinded to their own interests.
Even Carolina Gem won’t advise Elam to take cour
age and try yet one more Houeshold girl. And thus
“I am wearing my heart away.”
But back to our case in point. Now, Mr. Ivy, look
at things from a reasonable standpoint. Do you
think any girl with sufficient neat clothes and happy
home would rather stand on her feet from seven in
the morning until six at evening and haggle with
the passing throng to sell goods—for pleasure? A
good time, indeed! You ask that lady who told you
girls clerked for a good time if she ever clerked a
day in her life. I’ll venture she never did. It is
the cry all over this fair land, why are the girls and
boys leaving the farm? It will continue to be the
lament until the country girls and boys are given a
better chance at home for improvement both men
tally and financially. Until then, and not until then,
will the young people remain at home.
I love home; I am a home girl; kept house for my
parents at the close of my school life until both
died last year. My mother was as dependent upon
me as a child. I know just what it takes to run a
home, both in money and brains. But like you, I
have made some use of “my eyes and understand
ing,” and I have seen a few things, too. Yes, the
girl is better off in her home, provided she is treated
right and told now and then she is loved and appre
ciated. Every woman’s heart longs for love and
sympathy and when she doesn’t get this and receives
but little material evidence that she is appreciated
yon may watch out., she will try her fate elsewhere
Nearly every girl performs her home duties as a
matter of course, and her male relatives look upon
it as nothing more than what she was created for.
Can you blame her for seeking new fields? Her right
ful place is as queen of a home and the hearts of her
family. If you have a sister, Mr. Ivy, tell her as
soon as you read this that she is the best sister a
man ever had and you would go through almost any
kind of hardship before you would see her battling
with the outside world and cinch your assertion by
giving her a ten-dollar bill to get a new spring dress.
She won’t want to leave home if you do this.
EUGENIA.
HARMLESS GOSSIP—GARDENING TIME.
It is so nice to have a weekly— The Golden Age—
with our Household and our M. E. 8., as in old
Sunny South days. Like “Old Woman,” I prefer
reading to gossip. I try to get to see my nearest
neighbors several times a year and my friends as
often as practicable. It is refreshing and helpful to
talk with them on topics in which we are interested,
and, I must say, I think a little harmless comment
on people and their ways is salutary, for the reason
it teaches us how people in general think about the
acts of others. Os course we must be “kindly affec
tioned one toward another” and beware of slander
or anything that would pull down reputation.
I wonder if “Busy Bee” is the same who wrote
for The Sunny .South in days lang syne. If so, I
know her and am glad to see her familiar name.
We are having our winter’s coldest time now. I
remained by my fire all yesterday, although the sun
shone and the church bells rang, but there is so
much grippe and pneumonia that I thought self-pres
ervation the first consideration. I have learned by
sad experience that it is better to remain at home
and take care of myself. We owe it to our family
to keep well. They have most of the trouble nurs
ing and caring for us when we are sick. Life can
be made very pleasant when all the members of a
family think of each other. Daughters should not
invite their friends until they consult their parents,
their mothers especially, nor should parents bring
upon themselves cares unnecessarily that hinder
them in the proper training of their children.
Today is a glorious day, though so cold. We can
have early gardens this year. From the poet Cow
per in his “Garden” we learn how to prepare a hot
bed:
“He seeks a favored spot, that where he builds
The agglomerated pile his frame may front
The sun’s meridian disk, and at the back
Enjoy close shelter, wall, or reeds, or hedge
Impervious to the wind. First he bids spread
Dry fem or littered hay, that may imbibe
The ascending damp; then leisurely impose
And lightly, shaking it with agile hand
From the full fork, the saturated straw.
The uplifted frame, compact at every joint,
And overlaid with clear translucent glass,
He settles next upon the sloping mount,
Whose sharp declivity shoots off secure
From the dash’d pane the deluge as it falls;
He shuts it close, and the first labor ends.”
This bed should be prepared some time before the
seeds are planted, as the poisonous fermentation must
pass off. Cowper goes on:
“The seed, selected wisely, plump and smooth,
And glossy, he commits to pots of size
Diminutive, well filled with well-prepared
And fruitful soil, that has been treasured long,
And drunk no moisture from the dripping clouds,
These on the warm and genial earth that hides
The smoking manure, and overspreads it all,
He places lightly, in the soft medium.”
The above is an old English mode for making a
hotbed. Our southern gardeners do not go by that
rule exactly. Seeds are planted in beds made of soil
already prepared. They are sheltered from north
winds and cold and are sometimes covered with
glass, but many of the earliest plants do not need
this. Early cabbage, lettuce, radishes and some
other things planted, in mid-winter grow without
glass. Light brush, thin cheese cloth or chicken
wire is enough protection. Cabbage planted on beds
in October are now being set out and will head early.
The description given by the poet is a good way
to force bulbs for early blooming. They can remain
in th* Dots under the glass until they bloom and then