Newspaper Page Text
10
The young moon hides behind a drift
ing cloud —
The stars shine dimly through vast,
misty space;
The earth, enwrapt in midnight’s
gloomy shroud,
Turns slowly in its place.
Upon its shadowed surface mountains
loom,
And broad plains stretch in ghostly
“This home is dedicated to good
will. It grew out of love. The two
heads of this household were called
together by a power higher than
they. To its decree they are obed
ient. Every tone of the voice, every
thought of their being, is subdued
to that service. They desire to be
worthy of their high calling; as
ministers of that grace they know
their peace will go unbroken only
for a little time, and often they sus
pect that the time will be more
short than their anxijous hope.
They cannot permit as much as one
hour of that brief unity to be touched
by scorn or malice.
The world’s judgment has lost its
sting inside this door. Those who
come seeking to continue the har
mony which these two have are
ever welcome. The rich are wel
come, so they come simple. The poor
I think it highly probable that the
doctors of those days did kill more
than they cured. For with us in the
darker corners of Dixie, the old-fash
ioned methods of physicking still lin
gered. And oh, the cruelly murder
ous absurdity of these methods. The
heroic practice for fever in the ma
larial regions was to dose with calo
mel until one was thoroughly staurat
ed. When the gums became spongy
and bleeding, and the teeth loose, it
was time to lessen the dose or blue
pill of calomel straight. I have seen
so many women and young girls
otherwise fair to see, cruelly disfigur
ed by having a nose eaten off, the
lower jaw-bone gone entirely, the pal
ate eaten away, or all the teeth gone
through calomel or “blue pill.”
Then there was the horribl mix
tur given to every patient of jalap
and rhubarb, taken in molasses.
Quinine was given in coffee —half a
tea-cupful at a dose; and castor oil
THE SPREAD OF TYPHOID FEVER
and other infectious diseases to other mem
bers of the family and to neighbors ran
be safely prevented by dissolving a tea
spoonful of Tyree’s Antiseptic Powder in
two teacupsful of boiling water, adding
this to each stool and keeping stools pro
tected from flies. A similar solution In
tepid water makes a grateful sanitary
sponge bath for the patient. Get a 26c
box from any drug store (or by mall). If
not pleased return the empty box and get
your money back. J. 8. Tyree, Chemist,
Washington, D. C. Mr. Tyree will mail a
liberal sample es his powder and full di
rections, free, to any who write mention
ing this paper.
THE HOUSEHOLD
A DEPARTMENT OF EXPRESSION FOR THOSE WHO FEEL AND THINK.
NIGHT
By Sarah A. Heinzerling
MOTTO FOR A HOME
RANDOM SKETCHES
THE DOCTOR OF THE FIFTIES.
By MARY E. BRYAN.
THE GOLDEN AGE FOR WEEK OF OCT. 23
lengths away—
Deep rivers flow and mighty oceans
boom
And fling aloft their spray.
The man, the heir of all this wonder
ous world,
Forgets the Giver and lives out his
days
In foolishness until his soul is hurled
Where none may serve or praise.
are welcome, for they have already
learned frendliness through buffet
ing. Youth is welcome, for it brings
the joy which these two would learn.
Age is welcome, for it would teach
tenderness.”
Looking over my scrap book clip
pings I found this splendid “Motto for a
Home” that I think just at this time is
well worth passing on to my “neigh
bor.” I trust you will think the same
thing, and pass it on into some home
that is not so founded, for out of such
homes will come the solution of the
vexing social, religious and political
questions that are stirring our coun
try today.
Be sure to read Dr. Stahl’s article
on “The Death of Miss National Mod
esty,” page 13 and pass it on also.
Remember, we want your thoughts
and heart interest, in our department.
L. M.
also by the half cupful. The pills were
immense, bitter boluses, formidable
to look at, and seeming in your
throat the size of a billiard ball. The
mere thought of swallowing these
nauseous mixtures in such quantities
was so sickening to 1 a nervous, deli
cate child that it often produced con
vulsions.
If the disease were at all serious or
obscure, out came the thumb-lancet,
a vein was pierced, and the patient
watched his life blood flowing away,
and felt his strength ebbing with it.
Or the terrible fly-blister was
spread and applied, or the patient was
covered with mustard plasters so big
that one involuntary thought of poor
Hood’s pathetic jest as the huge plas
ter was applied to his emaciated
chest:
“Seems to me, doctor, it is a great
deal of mustard to so little meat.”
But worse than jalap, lancet, and
blister in those days was the ban
upon cold water and fresh air. On
no account must the patient drink as
much water as he wanted, while cold
water a s well as fresh air was death.
Water was administered to the pa
tient by the spoonful, the “chill” be
ing first taken off it by having a piece
of hot toast cr a live coal droppedin
to it. Often have I seen the poor,
crisped, blackened, fevered lips ea
gerly taking the scant spoonful of
tepid water, and murmuring:
“Good! good! But, oh, if it was
only cold.”
I think I saved my own life once
by breaking the rule of nurse and
doctor in this respect, and drinking
my fill of cold water. It is a piece of
deception I have never confessed un
til this monent.
I had “pernicious fever”, I think
they called it. Inward fire I knew it
was. Water, water, was my one de
sire.
“Give me one drink of cold water
and let me die!” I cried. And in
the transport of delirium they say I
raved of cool springs and shaded
rivers, and of the cold sweet snows
and green icebergs of the arctic re
gions I had been reading about in Dr.
Kane’s Polar Expedition.
But a few spoonfuls of water with
the chill taken off was all I got for
my pleadings.
In the middle of the hot sultry
night I woke from a short respite of
sleep, burning up. gasping, lips and
tongue dry a s Sahara’s desert.
I raised my head and looked around
The nurse was nodding in her arm
chair. The wild resolve seized me to
reach the well, it was just outside
the hall door, only a few yards away
from where I lay parched with thirst
Desperation and fever gave me
■strength. I crept from the bed and
tottered to the door. How I managed
to get out to the well only my guard
ian angel knows, but I did get there
and I found
“The old oaken bucket, the mossy
rimmed bucket,”
nearly brimmed with cold water.
How I plunged my hot lips into it,
how I drank and drank, until the fire
within seemed all quenched, and I
felt a delicious peace and ease stand
ing there under the summer stars in
the sweet, dewy night, and how I
crept back to bed and fell into such
a refreshing dreamless sleep, and
woke so much better, the crisis all
passed; all this I remember as
though it were yesterday.
And old Doctor Mclntosh believed
my sudden change for the better was
all owing to his prescriptions and his
rules being carried out.
I knew better, but I never told un
til now. “A woman always tells on
herself sooner or later,” says the cyni
cal French proverb.
FICKLE FASHION
Fashion is a fickle goddess. There
are always those who are ready to
follow every change, and eager to
adopt the extremes; while there are
those ready to keep up but are ever
between the extremes —sensible ones
who know it is better thus to be than
to attract attention by being too far
behind. Then there are those who
are shocked at Dame Fashion’s sud
den changes, and who cannot become
accustomed to them.
Some seem to be following Diana
in the chase with their few garments
and slit skirts. Diana was noted for
her chastity. We hope these follow
ers are like her in this respect.
Some followers of the extreme
fashions look very much like loons on
cold days and evenings with their
thin clothing, short skirts, part of the
body bare and thin shoes and hosiery.
The present styles are on an extreme
in scantiness. Take some old fashion
plates of fifty years ago where large
hoop skirts were worn and dreses
were flounced to the waist and we
laugh at the absurd contrast between
the fashions then and now.. Then at
a later date large bustles and elabor
ately looped overskirts, and later
still, trails, large sleeves and full
skirts show the absurdity of foolish
fashions.
There was once a good woman who
cared so little for dress that her
friends began talking about how
much she needed a new black dress
she was a widow with plenty means
to get what she needed. One friend
went to her and suggested that she
buy a new dress. “I do need a new
dress,” she replied, “let me see how
long I have worn this? Yes, quite a
number of years, and really it is very
much soiled and getting brown, but I
just hadn’t thought about it.” She
was indeed an exception of a woman
and rather on an extreme. While
such a case as the above is very rare,
there are many who are always ready
for change and sacrifice fine dress in
order to nave something new and in
the latest styles.
There are ways to dispose of sec
ond hand clothing and it is commend
able for the rich to do this. Os course
they must keep up in their circle
else they will appear odd or stingy.
Some rich people, however, are econ
omical and have fine clothing re
modeled. We of the South have the
poor at our doors who are ever ready
to take “what you min’ to gimme”
for any little service. “Miss, I think
you done wore that dress long enough
now, so giv’ it ter me an’ I’ll sweep
your yard or clean up your kitchen.”
So the dress goes and a charity is
done by the disposal. What is the
use of having closets and wardrobes
full of old garments, hats, etc., when
they would help the poor by giving
them out? New things are better
enjoyed. They need not be in the ex
treme, absurd height of style, but
something fresh and modest is al
ways to be desired —and again good
is done to our merchants by buying
what they have to sell.
MUDA HETNUR.
ARE YOU A MURDERER?
That sounds hard, doesn’t it? But
deny it. You are sure that you are
not a murderer. It rouses your an
ger to even have one think it nec
essary to ask you such a foolish
question.
But listen to this. A while ago I
received from a little fifteen-year-old
girl who lives out West, a letter in
which she told me of ill-health of her
mother.
“She is getting better every day,
but she would get better faster if the
fool women that came in did not al
ways tell her that she ‘looked like a
ghost,’ or ‘you look like a dead per
son.* Mrs. Northam came in yester
day and told her she was looking fin®
and that one could see that the walks
in the open air were doing her a
world of good. After Mrs. Northam
left, mother sang and laughed and
A WOMAN’S APPEAL.
To all knowing sufferers of rheumatism,
whether muscular or of the joints, sciati
ca, In mb ago a, backache, pains In the kid
neys or neuralgia pains, to write to her
for a home treatment which has repeated
ly cured all of these tortures. She feels It
her duty to send It to all sufferers FREE.
You cure yourself at home as thousands
will testify—no change of climate being
necessary. Thia simple discovery banish
es uric acid from the blood, loosens the
stiffened joints, purifies the bleod,
brightens the eyes, giving elasticity and
tone to the whole system. If the above
interests you, for proof hddress Mrs. M.
Summers, Box 576, South Bend, Ind.