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THE RIGHT TRIUMPHANT
One Author has the light and shade,
And you will find that come what
may,
The virgin truth tho’ long delayed
And hard-beset and sore dismayed
Will win the final day.
Truth is immortal: men may fail
To see the outcome of the strife
But Justice yet will strip the veil
CHA T
Mattie Beverage has today given us
a continuation of the interesting life
of that remarkable —yes, amazing—
grandmother of hers. What an athlete,
and what a fearless heroine was that
same Elizabeth Postelle, who carried
for two miles over rocky hills, through
dark, wolf-haunted forests, a child of
two years, a bag containing a bushel
and a half of meal and a ham of meat.
Then how did she and the invalid sis
ter get that deer from the pond to the
house? It seems impossible to us at
this day, but the pioneer women were
wonderful for strength, courage and
endurance.
Moreover, necessity is a mighty pow
er. To know that a thing must be
done, and done by yourself, keys up
muscle and will and nerve to their ut
most tension. During the civil war
delicately reared women plowed and
pulled corn and fodder, bringing it up
in wheelbarrows —and I know of two
women who dug a deep well, and an
other who ripped boards and covered
a house. It had ito be done, it was
a ground hog case. You remember
the reply of the boy to the man Who
asked if he expected to dig that ground
hog out of the frozen earth: “Stranger
it’s got to be did. There ain’t no meat
at home, and Brer Rabbit climbed the
tree ‘becaze he was bleeged to’ —the
wolf was right after him.” A new
Golden Age writer —fills the Sunshine
Cosy Corner today. Idaline Gray is
not a novice with the pen, however.
She has conducted the Woman’s De
partment in her home paper
and written for the magazines. The
plea she makes for the old and lone
ly—that loving attention should be
shown them —is timely and needful.
The world with its rush and hurry—
its every-man-for-himself watchword —
seems made only for the young and
strong, and yet beautiful kindness
and charity are more in evidence now
than ever before. But those who make
no plea and no complaint—'the white
haired gentlewomen who have been
left alone in their silent homes by sons
and daughters who have gone out to
seek their fortunes —or who perhaps
have been carried to the City of Si
lence —these are the ones who are
most often forgotten and where hearts
Hunger most for love and friendly no
tice. We have several of these in our
little town —one particularly—whose
two children are in far-off states, and
so busy with their own affairs that
they oftlen neglect to write. It is pa
thetic to see her kiss a letter when it
does come, saying “I knew my boy had
not forgotten me. ”
Margaret Sellers tells us how they
contrived to divert a boy who was con
valescent after serious illness. In
some of the large sanatoriums it is
THE HOUSEHOLD
A Department of Expression For Those Who Feel and Think
By ARTHUR GOODENOUGH.
From Fraud and show her false and
frail
In this —or after life!
The right w r ill win: the Love Divine
Its own decree doth execute;
And flower for flower and thorn for
thorn
And hate for hate and scorn for scorn
Life’s tree w T ill yield its fruit!
quite a problem how to help tne con
valescents whose impatience and un
happiness over their confinement re
tard their recovery.
It has been found that some kind
of occupation that has an end in view
is more satisfactory than idleness.
Lace making, the hand weaving of
rugs, and portieres, making clay mod
eling and other similar occupations
a.re successfully carried on in great
airy rooms or in the open air. It is
surprising to see invalids lying in
swings and hammocks out of doors
even when the winds are briskly toss
ing the leaves of the trees above their
heads. Formerly when wishing to ex
press the tenderest care, the favor
ite quotation was “The winds of heav
en were not allowed to smite her cheek
roughly.” I can remember when the
room of a person inclined to be con
sumptive 'was shut tight against winds
or damp or the dreaded night air
which was thought to be freighted
with mysterious poison. I clan never
forget seeing the room occupied by
Virginia—Poe’s child wife in the home
at Fordham where she died. It was
not much larger than a closet and had
one small window high up. The old
lady, who showted me over the house
told me this room was given Virginia
because it could be kept so close and
warm.
Wtb ®ur Gorresponbents
MY GRANDMOTHER’S STORY.
A Bag of Meal, a Baby, a Ham and
a Panther.
(Continued.)
At last the awful war was over. It
left the South bathed in blood and
tears, homes and cities burned, cattle
and provisions destroyed or stolen.
Grandfather came back home and went
to work on the farm as best he could.
A few years later he and his family
removed to Arkansas. Grandmother’s
youngest (sister and her husband and
grandmother and grandfather came in
a wagon drawn by two yokes of oxens.
Starting from their North Carolina
home on the 2nd day of October. They
arrived at their destination on Decem
ber 16th. The country around their
future home was unsettled. Their
nearest neighbors were two miles
away, but this was considered un
usually close quarters. The forests
stood in their primeval grandeur. Very
little of the land was cultivated. 'J. here
was no provision or dry goods store
within twenty-five miles. The cross
roads postoffice was seven miles dis
tant.
Wild beasts roamed freely in the
woods' —bears, panthers, and wolves.
Game abounded —deer in groups crop
ped the grass beside the streams, and
wild turkeys were so plentiful and so
fearless that they would come and set
The Golden Age for July 27,1911.
on the fence *of grandmother’s yard
and wallow in the sandy wialks. Wolves
also came in the yard and fought the
dogs. Grandmother had three children,
my mother being the baby. She was
two years old when they came to Ar
kansas.
There was no way of making a sup
port for his family at home, so grand
father, with my uncle and his wife
went fifty miles away in the fall to
pick cotton on the rich river bottom
farms of well-off planters. Grand
mother, her young sister and three
small children were left alone and un
protected in the strange wilderness
country where every night there was
a chorus of wolves.
My aunt was in the last stages of
consumption. Every day they thought
would be her last. It was awful for
grandmother to be there alone in that
wild region with a sick and dying sis
ter and those helpless little children.
In order to get food to eat they had
to carry a bag of corn two miles and
grind it into meal on a small hand
mill. It would take all day to grind a
bushel and a half of corn. In going
to the mill she was compelled to climb
a steep mountainous hill. The road was
rough and rocky with woods on either
side. In addition to carrying the
heavy corn, grandmother had also to
carry her baby. She was afraid to
leave her at home as my aunt was now
ill in bed, too feeble to care for a
young child. The little one could
walk only a short distance over the
rough road, and she had to be lifted
and carried along with the corn.
On one occasion, she encountered
difficulties and perils that would ap
pall a strong, stout-hearted man. It was
nearly dark, when she finished grind
ing the corn. Her neighbor, the man
who owned the hand mill, said to her:
“Here is a ham of fresh pork to pay
for the one I borrowed from you so
long ago. I killed a hog yesterday—l
have no salt to save the meat and it
will not keep; you will have to take
the ham with you.”
Meat was a rarity, and grandmoth
er could not bear to lose the ham. She
determined to take it along. She
started on her toilsome climbing way
carrying a bag of meal, a baby and a
ham of meat. The night was fast clos
ing in and the wolves would smell
the meat and come sneaking through
the woods. She would carry the little
one as long as she could, then put her
down and encourage her to walk, hold
ing to her dress.
She had nearly reached home when
she heard a blood-curdling scream be
hind her. It was a panther that had
scented the meat and followed her.
Making a mighty effort she gained the
house and called the dogs. The pan
ther came into the yard screaming
fiercely. Dogs fear panthers far more
than they fear wolves. These dogs
would not attack the panther; they
stood in the door with grandmother
and growled threateningly every time
the panther screamed.
My sick aunt was terribly frightened
and cried like a child. Grandmother
was afraid the fright would end her
frail life.
She tried to quiet her, and prayed
to God for help. After a while the
frightful scream ceased and the pan
ther went away. They slept soundly
behind bolted doors.
One night before my aunt had be
come so feeble she and grandmother
heard a great noise in the cornfield
back of the house as of something
tearing down the corn. She called the
two large dogs and set them on the
invaders. They ran it into a deep hole
of water some little distance below
the house. Grandmother took a torch
and she and her sister went down to
the pool to see what it was. It proved
to be a deer —a large buck. Both
dogs were on him and they were
drowning him. They seemed in dan
ger themselves of drowning and in her
anxiety for them, her only protectors,
grandmother leaned too far over,
lost her footing and would have
gone into the water which was far over
her head in depth, had she not caught
a bush and scrambled back to bank.
After quite a while the dogs suc
ceeded in drowning the deer and swim
ming with him to shore —(the hole
though deep was small —one of the
limestone sinks which are found in
that region)—grandmother helped the
dogs pull the deer out and then she
with what assistance her sister could
give her, carried him to the house.
They had venison for quite a while
after this lucky adventure.
My Aunt lived until her husband and
grandfather came back. She died
shortly after their return, leaving her
children in charge of grandmother
who faithfully cared for them until
their father married a second time.
I imagine I have taken up all the
space in the Household that can be
spared to me, and I will finish this
little story of a pioneer woman next
week. MATTIE BEVERAGE.
Dabney, Arkansas.
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENT.
C. L. T. asks: “Tell me about a let
ter of introduction. What is the eti
quette concerning it? How should it
be delivered? Might it be sent by
mail?”
A letter of introduction should be
left in person with a card, but with
out asking to see the one addressed;
or it may be sent by mail with the
card enclosed. The one receiving the
letter and card should then call in per
son within three days. Business let
ters of introduction, of course, need
no formalities whatever, but are pre
sented in person.
Home Department: Please give me
the recipe for a nice salad. —“Janie.”
One of the most popular and refresh
ing salads of this season is stuffed
tomato salad. Chop fine one cupful of
cooked ham (chicken or other meats
will do) and season with salt, pepper
and chopped onion. Add half a cupful
of bread crumbs and mix to a smooth
paste with French dressing. Stuff
tomato shells and serve on lettuce
leaves with mayonnaise.
The heaviest girl in the world is
Meda Milmoite of Kentucky, ten years
old and weighing 270 pounds. She has
gained 84 pounds in the last three
years. She is exceedingly active phy
sically, and mentally as bright as any
girl her age.
Her father and mother are of nor
mal weight and her sister and brother
of less than ordinary size.
A new use has been found for the
ordinary cooking kettle, also the most
remarkable bridges in the world are
these kettle bridges, of which ccssack
soldiers are expert builders The ma
terials used are the soldiers’ lances
and cooking kettles. Seven or eight
lances are passed under the handles of
a number of kettles and fastened to
gether by means of ropes to form a
raft. A sufficient number of these
rafts, each of which will bear a weight
of half a ton, are fastened together.
In the space of an hour a bridge is
