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Ju TH E HOUSEHOLD IJu
A Department of Expression For Those Who Feel and Think.
A YOUNG DREAMER.
Young friend, in whose deep eyes I
read a soul,
Earnest and eager for some noble
goal,
Hope is your star of morning; may
its beams
Light up your life as now they gilt
your dreams.
And every castle you now build in
Spain,
Rest on reality and firm remain.
Sorrow has touched you early. I can
trace
Her haunting shadow in your wistful
face.
Untimely on your life she set her sign,
May it but be to chasten ami refine,
Leaving you nobler for those tears of
pain,
As flowers bloom fairer after cleans
ing rain.
—MARY E. BRYAN.
*
CHAT.
HESE delicious days of April
certainly give one a longing to
go “wandering in wood paths
T
wild,” and a sympathy with the birds
that are simply reveling among the
young leaves. Every summer more
and more of the city denizens “go in
to camp” somewhere—in the moun
tains or by the sea or lake shore.
These camp colonies are chaperoned
by some capable and delightful wo
man —and directed by some genial, re
sourceful man. One of the best of
the summer camps is Woodland Farm
Camp, at Westchester, Conn., which
is under the supervision of Mrs. Syd
ney Lanier. Old and young, boys and
girls, composed the assemblage at
Woodland Farm Camp in the summer
past. “There was no sense of age in
camp,” said one of the company. No
body felt old and nobody felt young.
A grandmother and a child of six sat
side by side in the clay-modeling
class. She was making a handsome
rose bowl, and he a little salt cellar
but each was equally interested in
the other’s w r ork.
Every Saturday the camp folks
went on a picnic to one of the near
by lakes, made bonfires on the shore
and cooked their own dinner. Study
ing was so mixed with play that it
was recreative.
The summer outdoor school is
much on the same plan. I have one
close at hand—The Sylvan Terrace
School, a boarding school for little
girls, at Clarkston. It is an ideal out
of-door and home school, located at
the residence of Dr. Bertha Ladd
Hoskins whose deeply interesting
book, “The Double Fortune,” you
have read in a review in The Golden
Age. She has a lovely home, at
which she lives with her mother. It
is quite large, with many spacious,
airy rooms and sweeping verandas,
festooned with blooming rose vines.
The extenswe grounds are shaded
with large trees, from some of which
depend the swings that youfig folks
so delight in. The, outdoor gymna
sium is a large, open pavilion among
the trees, with all the appurtenances
for healthful exercise. In all pleas
ant weather the studying is carried
on out of doors, in the shady groves,
but the indoor school room is large
ami airy, furnished with dear little
chairs and pretty desks, with maps,
blackboards, pictures and a library of
up-to-date study books more fascinat
ing than stories. The windows com-
mand a view of the beautiful farm,
with its environing orchards and
meadows, on whose lush grass feed
the handsome Jerseys that supply
the farm with rich milk and butter.
Altogether, Sylvan Terrace School is
a home of peace and beauty, and the
girl pupils, ages from six to fourteen,
can not but be happy in such an ideal
environment, with attentive and ex
perienced teachers; and as for the
supervisor, our lovely and beloved
Dr. Hoskins, she is the most amiable,
kind and mother-like young woman I
ever knew. I sincerely hope her out
door school will have the success it
deserves. She limits her baording pu
pils to fifteen, as she holds to the idea
now entertained by all true educators
that it is the small, home like school
that can best reach and develop the
separate individuality of children.
I get such cheering, inspiring let
ters from our Household people these
days. Some of them tell of busy do
ings in gardens and poultry yards;
others of books they are reading and
writing, and others of recreations
they are planning. Muda Hetmur
tells interestingly how stay-at-homes
may make recreation and change of
scene for themselves. Annice is
planning a summer visit to Florida,
to the delightful home of Mr. and
Mrs. Pleas, at Chipley, a home that
is almost a little Paradise. Annice
and Mizpah tell me sad news of the
creator of “Elatn,” whose pen name,
“Dr. Gem,” is synonymous with sweet
and wholesome humor. He has late
ly suffered a double bereavement in
the loss of the sister he lived with
and the sister’s little girl, who was so
much company for him. I am sure all
of his many friends and admirers will
bear this news of his bereavement
and his serious illness with sorrow
and deep sympathy. MATER.
*
THE YEAR AND THE SOUL.
(Major Iredell Bryan died December
30, 1909.)
Listen to the solemn sobbing,
Os the old year’s mystic tide!
With its passing, drifts a spirit
From life’s harbor to the wide
Mystic sea of the Infinite,
All earth’s good-byes now are said,
And heaven’s “All hails” greet the
spirit
Whose clay tenement lies dead.
—ANNICE LYBARGER.
Kingston, Tenn.
TKHitb ®uv Correspondents
NOT HOW TO WIN, BUT HOW TO
KEEP HIM.
Says a woman: We hear much
about the art of winning a husband.
Let us take a step further, and make
a study out of keeping a husband.
It he is worth winning, he is worth
keeping.
This is a wicked world, and man is
dreadfully mortal. Let us take him
just as he is, not as he ought, to be.
In the first place, he is very weak.
The wife must spend the first two
years in discovering all these weak
nesses, count them on her fingers,
and learn them by heart. The fingers
of both hands will not be too many.
Then let her study up these weak
nesses, a mesh for every one, and the
secret is hors. Is he fond of a good
dinner? Let her tighten the mesh
around him with fragrant coffee,
light bread and good things general-
The Golden Age for April 14, 1910.
ly, and reach his heart through his
stomach. Is he fond of flattery about
his looks? Let her study the diction
ary for sweet words if her supply
gives out. Does he like to hear her
talk about his brilliant intellect? Let
her pore over the encyclopedia to
give variety to the depth of her ad
miration. Flattery is a good thing to
study up at all hazards, in its delicate
shades; but it must be skillfully
done. The harpy who may try to
coax him away will not do it ab
surdly.
Is he fond of beauty? Here’s the
rub; let her be bright and tidy; that
is half the victory. Next, let her
bang her hair (metaphorically) and
keep up with the times. A husband
who sees his wife like other people
is not going to consider her “broken
down.” Though it is a common sheer
that, a woman has admitted that her
sex considers more, in marrying, the
tastes of her friends than her own,
yet it must be considered ludicrous
that a man looks art his wife with the
same eyes that other people do. Is
he fond of literary matter? Listen
to him with wide open eyes when
he talks of them. A man doesn’t care
so much for a literary wife if only
she be literary enough to appreciate
"him. If she have literary inclinations,
let her keep them to herself.
A quail is a good model for a wife—
neat and trim, with a pretty, swift
way about it, and just a little capri
cious. Never let yourself become an
old story; be just a little uncertain.
Another important fact is, don’t be
too good; it hurts his feelings, and
becomes monotonous. Cultivate a
pleasant voice, so that this very mor
tal man may have his conscience
prick him when he is in jeopardy;
its pleasant ring will haunt him
much more than a shrill one. it is
hard to do all this, besides taking
care Os the babies, and looking after
vexatious household cares, and smil
ing when he comes home; but it
seems necessary.
“To be born a woman is to be born
a martyr,” says a husband who for ten
years has watched in amazement his
wife treading the wine-press of exist
ence. It is a pitiful sight to some
men. But if the wife does not make
a study of these things the harpy
will, to steal away the honor from
his silvery hairs when he is full of
years and the father of sons and
daughters.
At the same time, good wife, keep
from trying any of these things on
any other mortal man but your own.
These rules are only evolved in order
to “keep a husband.” The poor,
weak creature would rather be good
than bad, and it is woman’s duty to
help him by every means in her
power. A WIFE.
*
WHAT SHALL WE PLANT?
Style in ornamenting yards and
grounds is very different from what
it once was in the South. Then large
front yards with all kinds of shrub
bery and flowers, to b.e neatly kept
by skilled gardeners was the order.
Now grass and a few choice shrubs
and some rare flowers on plots or on
the borders is the proper style. Every
one to her own notion, I suppose, but
of course an unselfish person does not
think of her own gratification in such
matters, but were I to return to my
childhood home I would try to have
things as near like my parents had
them as I could. Perhaps a descrip-
tion would be pleasing. A large grove
in front, of oaks, cedars and hickory
trees, then on the lower side of the
yard three large cedar trees planted
by myself and brothers —(when chil
dren) three on either side of the gate
along the paling. Up the wide walk
cape jessamine bushes. On either
side of the front of the house box
wood which bore pretty red berries in
winter. Along the eastern side of the
yard a beautiful row of crepe myrtle.
This was a thing of beauty four times
a year; in winter when weighted with
icicles and snow, in early spring
when in tender foliage; in mid-sum
mer when in bloom, in soft crepe-like
pink; and in autumn when covered
with brilliant red leaves. At the cor
ners of the house were large China
trees, making cool shade. One sup
ported a fragrant yellow jessamine
and the other an evergreen tree of
ivy. In one corner of the yard was
the red June apple tree, planted for
the children by father, and it lived
and bore until every child —except
one who died a baby—ate of its fruit,
then it died.
In other corners were favorite ever
blooming roses, always beautiful.
Large evergreen mock oranges shad
ed one side of the yard while flowers
of all kinds bloomed on the other.
Among the shrubs were lilacs, pur
ple and white; sweet myrtle, bloom
ing pomegranate, roses, althea, bird
eye cora, lavender, English dogwood,
and ever so many more things—vines
and shrubs. Then chrysanthemums or
winter pinks, sweet pinks, bulbs of all
kinds and various annuals and gera
niums invited the bees and butterflies.
In the back yard were a magnolia
tree, cherries, plums, oaks r crepe myr
tle, pomegranate, walnut, locust, hick
ory, fig bushes, mulberry, live oak, ap
ples, scuppernong vines and peaches.
Then large orchards were full of all
kinds of fruits; and garden of straw
berries, raspberries, grapes, fruit trees
and vegetables.
A year or two before my father
moved away from his old home he
planted a young orchard. “Why are
you planting those tree?” someone
asked. “For my grandchildren” he
replied. Sure enough his grandchil
dren —or some of them —enjoyed the
fruit. He planted fruit immediately
on settling his new home and some
of his children now enjoy it.
Our new home is in some respects
like the old one, but the grounds are
not so extensive. There is plenty
room and outside space, though,
enough to keep us busy. The old
home is much changed. King Cotton
hasn’t much respect for fruit trees
and rose bushes, especially if they
are grown on very rich ground.
MUDA HETMUR.
6?
A TIMELY ESCAPE.
There has been an hour in the life
of many a young person when he
was in dire danger of being drawn
into the whirlpool of a damning
career, but from which he escaped in
due time. A critical period comes to
the most of young people, and it is
well for them and for society if they
make a timely escape from a great,
peril. The name of Hugh Miller, of
Scotland, the famous geologist, is
familiar to all students of history and
science. But it may not be known to
the most of my readers that when he
was a very young man he was in a
perilous crisis. A historian writes of
it as follows: “When employed as a
