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THIS LIFE OF THINE.
This life, this little life of thine,
Does mystery profound enshrine.
Whence did it coirie, where shall it
go?
What is its mission here below?
Within this little life of thine
Sorrow and joy together twine.
Love lights its fair and holy shrine,
Temptations fight with powers divine.
Death waits to quench this life of
thine,
9 *
’Tis but a cloud: the star will shine,
Triumphant in some fairer clime
Beyond the shore of earthbound time.
This life, this precious life of thine,
Is kindred to the Mind Divine.
Made for some purpose, veiled from
view,
But, friend, be good and brave and
true,
And life will hold a prize for you.
Ivy, Ala. —BEN R. IVY.
*
CHAT.
Elita says: “While reading in last
week’s chat about the poor, who are
always with us, it occurred to me
that I had somewhere read about a
country where there are no poor peo
ple, where every one has enough to
live on comfortably. Did I read of
such a country, dear M. E. 8., or did
I only dream it?” I believe you have
been reading about the little country
of Belgium. It is said there are no
paupers in Belgium, nor do the people
emigrate.
The Belgians are the thriftest peo
ple in the world. They have a govern
ment that encourages thrift. They
have National savings banks where
deposits are made as small as twenty
cents and even deposits by postage
stamps, the latter being to encourage
school children and farm laborers in
saving. Rural postmen carry with
them the forms required in making
these deposits and urge the people to
make use of them.
It is this policy on the part of the
government which has caused thrift
and saving to become popular and
grow into a habit. Every woman and
child takes a pride in having deposits
in a savings bank. The people live
within their incomes and save some
thing over, so that in their riper years
they have often quite a bank account.
They do not go on heaping up money,
working as though for life, after they
have secured a competency, as our
rich men do in this country. If there
are no poor people in Belgium, there
are also no millionaires. A traveler in
that country says that one sees con
stantly men and women still in the
freshness of youth, retired from active
bread-winning work and wisely enjoy
ing the capital they have saved by
reasonable economy. There is none
of the continuous, brain-racking, nerve
destroying struggle to surpass their
neighbors, which is the bane of social
life in our own country. The policy
of the Belgian government has made
it the pride of the people to live with
in their incomes with a margin left
over. Debt is seldom contracted, and
a mortgage on one’s home is unknown.
Pawnbrokers do no business in Bel
gium, yet the people buy books and
pictures and are devvoted to music and
little outings, for we do not live by
bread alone. Mind-food is essential to
the well equipped man or woman. His
whole being should be nourished.
I do not think there can be any bar
gain counters in Belgium. They would
THE HOUSEHOLD
A Department of ’Expression Tor Those Who Teel and Think .
languish for want of patronage. The
people being too well trained in the
wisdom of thrift and content to buy a
thing they do not really need because
it is cheap. Think how much there
would be in the world if we wisely
studied out just what we need in the
way of food, clothes and furniture, and
bought only those essential things.
We buy food that does not really nour
ish us and clothes, trinkets, hats, col
lars, ribbons, etc., because they are
fashionable, and new furniture that
we may keep up with our neighbors.
In this, way we deprive ourselves of
the things that bring real happiness,
things that sweeten the heart and cul
tivate the intellect, such as books, pa
pers and magazines, flowers, pictures,
the joy of giving to a needy, deserving
friend, the little excursion or change
of scene, that restores health and
drooping spirits. And often in entail
ing on ourselves the slavery of debt,
the carrying of the chain and ball fas
tened to us by getting things not ac
tually needed “on the installment
plan,” debt drives sweet content from
the fireside. The other day I heard a
wife, who was starting out to do her
Christmas shopping before the rush
of holiday buyers comes on, ask her
husband, “What shall I get you, dear?”
“I don’t care what you get me, my
love,” he answered, “so you don’t get
me in debt,” and his tone showed how
deeply in earnest he was, in spite of
his smile.
It is in order for Dr. Botts to thank
some of the sisters for their sympathy
and advice in the matter of spanking
the baby. What has become of our
doctor? Surely he has not followed the
example of that delectable professor
of a northern university, -who commit
ted suicide last week because his
baby cried and irritated his nerves.
Men who have such tender nerves
ought not to marry unless they are
able to afford a nursery. I knew an
editor who, when his ailing baby be
gan to wail, would bounce out of bed
with a snort of rage, jerk on his dress
ing gown and escape up stairs to what
he called his cuddy hole in the attic.
And at breakfast hour how he would
anathamatize that poor, puny little
baby until his little wife would have
to get up and go away to cry. And
how he would take it out in cudgeling
the editor of the rival newspaper in
his next issue.
John Coleman Pope goes to the root
of the matter in the little he adds to
day to the discussion as to the causes
of unhappiness in the home. 111-con
sidered, hasty marriages, marriages
made with no study of after results,
no thought as to whether such a union
will produce harmony, these are un
doubtedly the basis of most of the
matrimonial misery in the world. Mr
Pope shows us how wise legislation in
some other countries puts a salutary
check on such indiscriminate mar
riages.
Fineta sends us another chatty letter
from that lively, bright cousin of hers
who seems to have made herself mis
tress of the difficult art of interesting
letter writing. MATER.
XKHttb ©ur Corresponfcents
HOW WE WELCOMED THE PRESI
DENT.
(Violet to Fineta,)
Dear Cousin Fineta:
I am glad you had an opportunity
to hear the lecture of Rev. J. G. Ad
The Golden Age for December 2, 1902.
ams, and only wish that I had been
there, too. I appreciate your telling
me about it, and will reciprocate by
telling you about our presidential pa
rade.
Eloise was to meet me at Eston’s
office at eleven. I got there first, and
Eston wouldn’t let me lean out the
Window to see a thing; but presently,
I Spied Eloise in the surging throng,
and a moment later, hearing the clank
of the elevator door, I ran out into
the hall to meet her. She said she
had gone through too much trying to
get to us to miss the parade. Hasten
ing down we were soon at the rear of
the throng held back by the rope
stretched along the street. The vision
of the packed masses brought one of
Balzac’s descriptions to mind, and I
was glad that here was no Old Guard
greeting a Napoleon, such as had, in
the heroic age of France, brought that
curious and brilliant throng the
Tuileries, but that here was a peace
loving president and a happy assembly
with no chill presentiments of disas
trous future changes.
Eston went into Blach’s, and was
granted permission for us to ascend
to a fourth floor window, from which
we had an unobstructed view. The
hand and the mounted police advanc
ing was the first to greet our eager
gaze, then came the awe-inspiring
tramp, tramp of the soldiers, line, after
line, the width of the street, followed
by cannon with mules hitched to them.
Then inore marching soldiers, and the
Howard cadets. Another band came
next and struck up Dixie just opposite
us, but as always happens we could
not hear for the cheering.
More enthusiasm as the procession
of automobiles came into view, with
Taft and Comer in the first, and you
■would have never suspected that those
slow moving machines were autos.
The president kept his hat off and
must have grown tired waving it and
bowing his head. He was on the side
nearest us, and looked right up at us.
He had no guard immediately around
his auto, and for the moment, I re
membered the bomb interrupted bridal
procession of the well-guarded Span
ish ruler, and again indulged in men
tal comparisons between foreign gov
ernments and “my own, my native
land.”
Another band preceded the school
boys, about five thousand in number,
the papers stated. “Cannon to the
front of them,” marched these youths
to the martial strains, as did “our
boys” in the sixties. Some of the
“soldiers in grey,” not much older
than these pupils, had to face the
fierce cannonading on many a hard
fought field. God grant that these
boys may never know a similar fate.
After the company of Italians, we
were amused at the huge proportions
of a grip on wheels, very appropriate
in its size for the Taft parade. It
was the “grip of welcome” from the
T. P. A., and the Travelers’ Protective
Association came next. Some deco
rated wagons of school girls were
passing as we hurried back to Eston’s
office, to look through the field glasses
at the parade which had then entered
that street. But the president had
gone on to Capitol Park to finish out
his day's program.
Eston and the Judge had bought
some ’possums, and when Eston’s
“Man Friday” came to get them, one
got out, and a mouse would have felt
lonesome, seeing himself so badly
eclipsed by this intrduer, as we femi
nines hastily sought refuge in chairs.
No "Billy ’Possums” for me, if they
are alive, thank you!
1 meant to tell you of the afternoon
that Eloise entertained the Shake
speare Club and of Robert Mantell in
his Shakespearean roles, but with Ju
liet, you would be asking, “is there
no pity sitting in the clouds,” so for
the present I spare you. Do write
again soon to your news-hungry (I
mean news from home).
VIOLET.
WHEN LEONA GOES TO COLLEGE.
(Two Letters That Tell Much.)
First letter (written by Leona’s
mother to her sister):
“Dear Sister Lou: I have just sat
down after saying good-bye to Leona
to write you all about it. I must write
to somebody who understands. There
was a lot to do at last and Leona was
no help, of course. You are not the
mother of a growing girl like that,
Lou, and can hardly appreciate fully
what it means to me to let her go.
She will take the full college course,
of course, and will know more than I
ever thought of finding out when you
and I went to Miss Hill’s. Leona is an
only child and I miss her so.
“Oh, Lou, how much there was to
do!
“It makes my bones ache now to
think of it. There were shirt waists
to buy and things to match and so
many ‘last things’ to remind her of.
I’ve tried to be a good mother to her
and I am making the sacrifice for sev
eral reasons and in several ways that
I am going to confide alone to you.
“In the first place her father said he
could not afford to send her, but I had
saved up some money and I thought
she ought to have the chance. I am
doing some private work, teaching,
that Leona knows nothing about, and
may be able to keep her on there. She
is very precocious, you know.
“I bought her a ping-pong set, and I
understand they play tennis, so the
dear girl will have exercise. I hate
to think of all those terrible verbs that
used to use me up so at Hill’s Semi
nary. But Leona seems to take them
all in as easily as if they were so
much baby talk.
“I have turned my old black mohair
and am having my furs remodeled,
and altogether I think I can send her
that mink collar she doted, on so at
Chase’s store. Also the set of George
Eliot. It seems they do some of the
sort of reading, too.
“1 must manage it somehow. The
dear child went away in a perfect
storm of tears and seems to think she
never will be able to stand it. And,
Lou, how characteristic this was of
her —in one hand she held a copy of
Hammerton’s ‘lntellectual Life,’ and in
the other a note book for her diary
purposes.
“Ever your loving sister,
“MARY.”
Second letter, written by Leona to
her chum:
“Dear Linda: Here I am at college.
Did you think I’d ever make it? Such
a time as we had persuading father!
Os course I brought the organdie and
the case of gloves I won at the last
year’s Glee Club at home. How far
away and stupid that all looks now!
We are having a swell time here. I
own shares in a boat, have a ping
pong set, play golf (tennis is such a
bore) and have joined two Greek so
cieties. lam strictly ‘in it,’ and I fear
my own popularity will lead to my
needing a new outfit before the year
