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there is any song sweeter or more
touching. Was it written by an Amer
ican, and was she (I know that none
but a woman wrote it) a Southerner?
I am sure you can tell me, dear Meb.
In the old sunny days, I used to ask
you many questions—the hardest I
could think of —and you answered
them just as easy! Dear Meb, I read
your Household in The Golden Age,
and your delightful department, “The
Open House” in Uncle Remus Maga
zine, and I pray you may live many,
many years to please and uplift with
your pen. HEARTSEASE.
Alabama.
K
THAT UNHAPPY GIRL.
The unpublished letter of an un
happy girl filled my heart with sym
pathy, and I want to say a few words
to her, and also to others who may
think fate has been unkind to them.
For I come as one, that has suffered
many bitter things in life and yet it
has not embittered me, rather the
experience has sweetened and
strengthened my life, and I have a
greater sympathy for my fellow creat
ures, and the interest I feel in others
makes me forget my own self, which
is the sole secret of happiness. I
don’t pose as a martyr either, and am
not looking for pity from any one.
The world is very beautiful to me,
and I want to say right here that I’m
a working girl, and thank my Heav
enly Father every day for health and
the privilege of work. The joy I get
from my work is a world of wealth
to me, and if I don’t possess the many
beautiful things in life that money
can buy, I can appreciate them, so in
away they are mine.
Just think of nature and the sweet
birds, and lovely flowers—are they
not all mine? I want to thank Annice
for what she said about “common
place” things. I, too, think there is
poetry and beauty in the every-day
things of life.
I never look for slights from people,
therefore don’t see them, and if there
is an occasional thrust, not to be ig
nored, why there is felt a slight pain,
but I quickly smile, cast the resent
ful thought aside and ponder on
things worth while. Yes, my dear un
happy girl, there is much more joy
and happiness, than sorrow in this
glad world of ours, if we will only
see it. Just the other day I was gath
ering roses, and how the thorns did
hurt my hand, but I soliloquized men
tally, that the sweetness and beauty
of the roses much more than atoned
for the pricking of the thorns.
I enjoy reading the Household so
much, and feel that I know the writ
ers. Dear Annie Peary, I do sympa
thize with you, and the poem you
gave as well as your ow r n letter com
forted me. I feel so sorry for all the
shut-ins, brave and courageous they
are —and waft a prayer that they may
be given grace to bear their afflic
tions. Sweet Mattie Beverage, you
have my love and good wishes. Mar
garet Richard. Old Woman. Annice,
Mizpah. Ben Ivey, Tom Lockhart. F.
L Orton and oh, so many others I’d
like to mention, come often and bring
us cheer and hope.
I eagerly devour Mrs Bryan s Chats
and all she has to say. I trust she
may be spared us long, and go on
with her instructive and interesting
work,
Tetterlne Conquers Polson Oak.
I enclose 50 cents in stamps for a box
of Tetterine. I have poison oak on me
again, and that is all that ever ha,
cured it. Please hurry it on to
M. E. Hamlett
Montalba, Tex., May 21, ’OB.
Tetterine cures Eczema, a etter, Ring
Worm, Itching Piles, Old Itching Sores,
Dandruff, Chilblains and every form o
Scalp and Skin Disease. Tetterine 50c,
Tetterine Soap 25c. Your druggist, or
by mall from the manufacturer, Tn*
Shuptrine Co., Savannah, Ga.
As I am a stranger among you and
a would-be promoter of happiness, I'll
sign myself,
HAPPY MAIDEN.
I? -
A MAN OF DISHONOR.
A True Incident.
I am minded to tell the Household
family of an experience that befell a
woman friend of mine, and ask their
opinion of the conduct of the man in
the case. Our Household member,
Mr. Orton, a New York journalist,
once said that it is best for the gen
tleman to allow the lady to break off
a marriage engagement even when he
is willing to it. The man,-in this in
stance, succeeded in gaining the
lady’s affection and her consent to
marriage after a persistent courtship,
extending through almost four years.
He won her away from two other
worthy suitors. He was seemingly a
devoted lover, thoughtful and kind.
She cared for him greatly. She be
lieved wholly in his fidelity and honor.
But in course of time he grew neglect
ful. He failed to write promptly to
the woman whom he was engaged to
marry in a short time. He came to
see her and expressed himself as
filled with self-reproach because of
his neglect. He asked her to let him
have the ring he had given her, that
he mignt substitute a blue diamond
for the white solitaire. He said
good-bye with expressions of tender
ness and promises to write often.
This was the last time she ever saw
him. After waiting awhile, she wrote
to him, thinking he must be ill. No
answer came. She tried to call him
up over the long-distance telephone,
but could not get him. Then she
wrote and registered her letter. He
received it. but did not reply for some
time. Then he wrote her a brief let
ter, telling her he was afraid she did
not love him and that their natures
were so unlike they would not be
happy if united. He added that he
would always “think of her kindly.”
It was a severe blow to the woman,
who had loved and trusted him. She
was a Christian, a lady, cultured and
refined, so superior to the man that
her friends wondered how she could
consent to marry him. But she loved
him dearly. She seemed heart
broken over his falsehood and treach
ery. I was at a loss how to comfort
her. I could only tell her that it was
better she had found him out and had
not linked herself to a man who
would have proved a faithless hus
band. What do you think of the case,
Household friends? Mr. Orton, what
do you think of a man who could
sneak out of an obligation, using
strategy to get possession of his
ring? GERALDINE.
Texas.
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The Golden Age for June 2, 1910.
ONE WOMAN’S WAY TO MAKE
HOME HAPPY.
After three years of married life,
full of little tempests in teapots, mis
understandings and omissions and
commissions, I sat down on the third
anniversary of my marriage and de
termined that I would study, first and
most earnestly, how to get on smooth
ly in married life and how to make
my husband happy. I am, fortunately,
of a light-hearted nature —prone to
look on the bright side of life. This
inclination I would cultivate, but I
would curb my temper; I would con
trol it if I had to try with might and
main and pray without ceasing, for
always it takes two to make a quar
rel, and the feminine tongue can say
awfully sharp, provoking things. Well,
I have learned to keep that temper
pretty well in hand. If I get angry,
no one knows it. A flash of the eye
is the only sign I give. I try always
to speak kindly, for I know how a
harsh word wounds me, and we have
a great deal of mutual humanity. I
am very careful to meet my husband
pleasantly, and when he comes home
tired and worried, I refrain from say
ing anything to irritate him. I put
forth my powers of pleasing and try
to "dispel all thoughts of business
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cares from his mind. If I break any
thing and he speaks cross about it,
I say, “Yes, it was careless; I will
try to be more particular.” Then I
begin to talk about something.
I never “make small” of him. I let
him know I think him just as nice and
handsome as before we married. I
keep buttons on his clothes and his
socks neatly darned; his clean things
ready for him to put on. I fasten his
collar for him and brush his hair
when he will let me. I take his teas
ing and joking me good humoredly
and always listen with interest to
what he is saying. I dress neatly, not
expensively. I never w’orry him with
questions, and I do not give him any
cause for jealousy. I consult his feel
ings and respect his prejudices. I
treat his friends with consideration,
even those I do not like. To do all
this, and persevere in doing it, takes
pains and thought, but it is worth all
it costs, and far more. And after
a while it becomes a habit. Try it,
dear sisters, and you will bo able to
spare yourselves many a tear, many
a remorseful pang, and you will reap
a reward in the love and constancy
of your husband and the peace of
your home. MARGARETTA.
Near Charlotte, N. C.
11
