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AMERICAN BORN.
I bow not clown to idols, nor do I cringe to kings,
I have no use for scepters and thrones and such
like things;
Crowns, at the best, are baubles, and better never
worn,
I'm American born, God bless you! Free and
American born!
Let Europe kneel to king-craft, and worship a mortal
man,
God made me in His own image, and I am republican;
1 have taken the oath of the Freeman, and my soul
is not forsworn,
I'm American born, God bless you! Free and
American born.
I live as I wot is wisest, I go at mine own pace,
1 take my place in the conflict and look my foe in
the face;
I swear as I deem befits me, and I do as 1 have
sworn,
I'm American born, believe me, Free! and American
born.
1 swim the widest of rivers, I hew the forests down,
And when 1 have slashed and slaughtered I hasten
to build a town;
I harness the winds of heaven, the rivers I make
to serve,
I keep to my purpose wholly and 1 do not yield nor
v swerve.
1 turn from the net of custom, 1 turn from the beaten
track,
For ever my soul says “Onward!’’ and Progress is
at by back;
The wages I win, I work for, and whether men seek
or scorn,
I'm American born, God bless you! Free and
American born.
I am not ashamed of my forbears, I am not ashamed
of my birth,
And the land where the light first found me is the
dearest land on earth;
The eagle is mine for a token, my banner the stars
adorn,
I'm American born, God bless you! Free and
American born.
„ _ , ARTHUR GOODENOUGH.
Brattleboro, vt.
CHAT.
It is raining. Just a soft spring shower, with the
mellow roll of distant thunder as an accompaniment.
Is there anything more soothing than the sound of
spring rain falling on the young, velvety leaves?
The birds are silent while the shower falls —per-
haps taking a nap under their leaf tents —but the
moment the rain is over and the sun peeps through
the light clouds, you will hear them break forth into
trills and happy whistles. The hens will lead forth
their little broods, and the roses will begin to lift
their rain-filled cups.
Looking at their bowed heads as 1 write, I recall
the first poem I ever read. It was in the old-time
blue-backed Webster's speller, and the first verse
ran:
“The rose had been washed, newly washed in a
shower,
That Mary to Anna conveyed.
A plentiful moisture encumbered the flower
And weighed down its beautiful head.”
To remove the too plentiful moisture, Anna took
the rose too rudely and its lovely petals fell to the
ground, the moral being, that one should be careful
in dealing with a sensitive, delicate nature lest the
harsh treatment destroy it, as it did in the true
story told to us today by Harry Dean. I, too, recall
the verses, of which he quotes the first line, but 1 do
not remember all of the poem. No doubt some of
you have it in your scrap-book. There is no greater
enemy to the harmony of communities than unkind
gossip that contains the germ of scandal. It has
broken up the peace of so many a lovely, smiling
village, and worse still, it has broken the heart and
ruined the life of many a girl and young matron.
It is very true, as an old poem tells us, “More
offend for want of thought, than from any want of
feeling,” but a thoughtless remark may do as much
harm as a deliberate one, and it is essential to
cultivate and practice care and thought in nuch
THE HOUSEHOLD
4 Department of 'Expression For Those Who Feel and Think.
The Golden Age for April 23, 1908.
matters. It is the most difficult thing in the world
to eradicate the effect of a false statement when
once its dark blot has’ been dropped upon a reputa
tion. Particularly it is hard to erase such a blot
when the stain has fallen upon a woman, and a
careless word may warp and cloud a spirit that
might have blessed many with its beauty and bright
ness.
A little story byway of variety, I think, will please
our Household friends, and our Old Woman has the
gift of story-telling, as Miss Blossom s One Love Af
fair will show you. Ellen Douglas Wynne, I am sure
you and other thriftly housewives will revel in can
ning and preserving this summer, for never saw I
such promise of abundant food. Our cherry and
currant trees have far more fruit than leaves. The
currants are trees —not like the bush currants of the
North. The trees grow wild and the beautiful cofal
red fruit ripens early and has a delicious frdsh
flavor. I love all wild fruits, and I often wonder
why more of the wild fruit-bearing trees are not
planted about our homes. In our village there is
only one crab apple tree—a beautiful, symmetrical
tree. It is in front of the home of a bright little
dressmaker. All the village felt like voting her
thanks for the tree this spring, when the surpassing
fragrance of its countless pink blossoms was wafted
all over town by the west wind at sunset. The bees
and butterflies made the tree their home by day and
at night it had mysterious visitors, whom we could
hear but not see. The bi d of the crab apple is per
fect in form and tinting.
Amelia Selden. 1 hope some of the members will
respond to your ideas, which are good and practical.
Mothers have much to do with making or marring
the matrimonial future of their sons, through the
home training the boys receive. Boys who have
sisters should be taught to treat them With consid
eration and courtesy. As a general rule a good
brother makes a desirable husband. This would
indeed be a happy world if Julia Coman Tait’s ideal
of right living were carried out—if all of us were
sufficiently brave and true to live simply, and care
less for mere appearances. I believe humanity is
gradually approaching this ideal of living.
Speaking of verse, the poem, “American Born,”
which our faithful member, Arthur Goodenough,
gives us today, is very fine indeed. We are glad
to have May McMillan with us once more and hope
she will come again.
Where is S. T. P.? There are inquiries for her.
Also many ask about sweet Margaret Richard,
whose novel in verse, “Virginia Vaughn,” has won
her a yet larger circle of friends and admirers.
With ®ur Correspondents
I
MISS BLOSSOM’S ONE LOVE AFFAIR.
“Yes,” said Miss Parmelia Blossom, “I can sympa
thize with Sadie Brown, It is not at all wonder
ful that she was taken in by that good looking, good
for-nothing young fellow, who was after her bit of
money, but made her believe it was for herself alone
he wanted to marry her. Women lose all their good
sense when they fall in love. Every woman longs
to be loved and is more or less easily persuaded that
the man who flatters and professes to worship her
is sincere. Yes, 1 can sympathize with Sadie,
for I once had a love affair. I will tell you about
it if you will promise never to mention it to me. I
don't like to think of it, though it did me a world
of good.
“1 was almost thirty years old, and 1 looked my
lull age, for poor food and lack of exercise and con
stant sewing in a shabby little room soon make a
girl lose her roses. I was stitching away at my
machine one day when the letter carrier’s unusual
ring at my door made me wonder who could have
written to me. The letter he brought was from a
lawyer in California, telling me that a grand-uncle
whom 1 had never seen had left me a legacy of
over a hundred thousand dollars! A hundred thous
and dollars! I could not realize it. 1 had never
had a hundred dollars in my life, but often as I
sat at work I had amused myself with building air
castles as to what I would do if I had money—the
home I would buy, the pretty furniture and clothes
I would have and the help I would give to poor
women, struggling as 1 was struggling to keep the
wolf from the door. And now J could j'ealize my
dreams.
The legacy was soon in my possession, the money
in the bank, and I proceeded to gratify my dearest
wish, to have a home of my own. I had long
admired a beautiful cottage in an aristocratic part
of town. It was for sale, and I bought it and fur
nished it to please myself. Soon, to my surprise,
the old acquaintances of my parents, who had
wholly ignored me after my father's business failure
and death, now came to see me, and expressed great
delight at having found me. I only half believed in
their sincerity, but presently 1 allowed them to draw
me into the social whirl, where 1 speedily forgot
that I had planned to spend part of the fortune God
had given me in helping others.
One evening, at a rdcOptioii; I met a beautiful
little woman, with brown, appealing eyes ahd a ca
ressing manner. She was a young widow, who had
come to the town only a few weeks before and was
staying at a fashionable boarding house. She
seemed attracted to me from the first and I was
greatly drawn to her. We became good friends. One
day 1 found her in much distress and on pressing
her for the cause of her tears, she told me that the
company in which she had invested the small means
left her by her husband had failed and she was
penniless.
“What can I do, dear friend?” she sobbed, and I
promptly answered, “Come and live with me. Worry
no more about the future.”
So it was that Myrtis Dean became an inmate of
my home, where she was given whatever she desired
in the way of dress. One evening a ring of the door
bell announced a caller. When the servant brought
his card, I read the name “Harley Remington.”
“1 do not know him,” 1 said. “But I do,” ex
claimed Myrtis joyfully. “He is my Uhcle Hal. He
wrote that he was coming to spend his two weeks'
holiday in this mountain town, but I didn't really
look for him.”
She ran to the door and presently came back
accompanied by a handsome man, seemingly about
thirty-five, whom she introduced as “My uncle, Mr.
Remington.”
His visit was delightful. He was an interesting
talker and a still better listener, and his manner was
most engaging. He came every day to see us, accom
panied us to different places of amusement and kept
us supplied with flowers and French candy. He
was very attentive to me and his looks and manner
were full of subtle flattery. I lost my heart to him,
and gave a ready assent when he asked me to be
his wife. An early day for the wedding was
appointed, much to Myrtis' delight. When at the
expiration of two weeks he went away, I was silly
enough to cry until my head ached in sympathy
with my Myrtis, too, had gone to the city on
receiving a letter from her lawyer. Her uncle
left her there, as his own home was farther awav
When they were gone I felt very lonely, and sud
denly decided to go up to town myself and get my
wedding outfit. I left on the noon train, an accom
modation train, that returned that night. On arriv
in »■ in the city 1 spent three hours in shopping,
which men say is woman’s greatest delight—shop
ping with a full purse. I bought the dress for my
wedding, a silk, of pale lilac color, bought a going
away dress, a hat, gloves and other things. I was
thoroughly fatigued by the time I reached the sta
tion and bought a ticket for my return trip. A
glance at the mirror showed me I was looking fagged
out, and pulling my veil over my face, I sat down
in an inconspicuous corner of the room to wait until
train time.
Hardly had I got settled before two persons, a
man and a woman, came in and seated themselves
in front of me. Being tired and preoccupied, I did
not notice them and it was a distinct surprise when
the woman spoke, in the voice of my friend, Myrtis-
What she said was still more surprising. “If I
thought you were not going to keep your promise
to me, Hal Remington, I would expose you to her
this very day.”
‘‘l know you would,” answered the voice of my
fiance. “Well, I have half a mind to throw’ up the
game anyhow.”
“Oh, no! You mustn’t, Hal. It’s dead easy. Old
Melie’s so stuck on you she’ll let you have at least
fifteen or twenty thousand directly you’ve married
her, on the pretext of investing it in your business.
And with that we can skip to foreign parts. Don’t
show the white feather and back down now.”
."J can't,” he returned, gloomily, »‘Jt’s the one
