Newspaper Page Text
THE SUNNY SOUTH
SEVENTH PAGE
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Woman's Realm
==^= ^ Edited, by Mrs
Talks on Timely Topics
HE world is full of fluent
talkers, but fluency is not
the essence of good talk
ing; rather it its apt to
make talk degenerate into
monologue—to be all on
one side. The essence of
good talking is sympathy
and a quick responsiveness
—a keen zest iis in the busi
ness of finding out what
other people are like and
how 'the world looks to
them and in divining what
will interest them.
“A goo<l talker,” it hat, been said, “dees
not converse with words only—his eyes,
all his features, assist in expressing his
thoughts. Also he watches the eyes of nis
listener; 'he sees when they brighten and
when they grow dull, showing interest or
the lack of H. "Hr," one says, but in ibis
matter of good talking women arc usually
•better than men. They ar- the best lis
teners—the best to lead the talk into the
right channel. The perfection of talk is
between a man and a woman, for each
has a point of view that is unattainable
'to the other, and must, therefore, be per-
manently interesting.
♦
The Love of the Hindu Women
It is conceded that Kipling is at his
best in those Short stories that portray
the devotion of Hindu women for tin ir
husbands and lovers. Nothing can sur
pass the tenderness and restrained pathos
of some of these studies of the love-life
of these simple, intense child-women.
But than Kipling not only drew from
life, with his model before him, but he
could steep his imagination in the poetry
and the rich religious legends of the Hin
dus, all of which do homage to women as
the ir carnation of supreme sell -abro
gating love. The great religious ideals of
the Vedic religion are women, not men.
Among the Buddhists Yasadora, he wife
of the master, who left her palace to be
come the dteciple of her husband and
share his hardships, is exalted next t>
Buddha, but Sita, the Vedic female deity.
Is herself, supreme.
Vivakanadi, the swami (teacher), who
lectures and teaches in this country, said:
“She is our national god; she must al
ways remain so. Our religion, our Vedas j
(scriptures), our language may vanish, ]
but Sita will remain. She lives in the |
very vita’.s of our people. She is the ideal j
of whait Hindu women should lie. Any j
attempt of the English to modernize our
women, if it takes 'them apart from Sita,
is, and will alwaits he, a failure.
"Sita was the wondrousiy beautiful and
accomplished young wife of Prince Kama,
the Vedic Christ, whose father, the king,
exiled him from the court and sent him,
poor and alone, into the trackless, i.ger-
iiauiwed forest. The king did all in
his power to induce the beautiful wife of
Rama to stay and lie the star of his
court. Every temptation was offered her
—noble loverls, priceless jewels, gold and
power. She rejected all and w nt out in
poverty to follow her husband. Her
pleadings with Him t i allow her to a ’com
pany him. as put into impassioned ryth
mical form by a native poet, expresses
the Hindu (ind-ed, the Oriental) id. it
of wifehood and womanhood. Sita says:
very presence is soothing, whose touch
I s comfort, wh -se voice is balm, whose
influence over a patient is almost magical.
Telepathic Healing Not New
1 ho mach-talked-about telepathic long
distance healing is not at all a new thing.
A twenty-year-old medical magazine,
edited by Dr. Lewis, relates an interview
with Dr. Alexander Burritt, professor in
a medical college at Cleveland, Ohio,
which took place forty years before the
date of the magazine ir. which Dr. Bttr-
rit-; stated that he had -a paTTent—a lady-
afflicted with neuralgia, who was able
■to inform him of her seizures through a
distance of miles and that he could always
restore her without a visit in person. "It
seems to me," said the doctor, “tha't I
project a certain influence from my brain
through the air into her brain. When
a -thought of her comes to me suddenly
and without cause, accompanied by the
idea i.i pain, 1 infer that i-t comes from
her. X note the time when 1 send the
message of relief and she notes -the time
wht n she receives it, and these corre
spond. .More than this, 1 am sure she has
twice warned me o-f danger. Once, when
1 was packing my portmanteau to go on
a s-; ea.m r that left that evening, she
said to me, through an intervening space
of 200 miles, as plainly as if she stood be
side me: 'Don't go on this steamer to
night; it will be lost with all -u-n board.’
1 immediately stopped packing and
-postponed the trip. The next day brought
the announcement that the sto inter, the
U. 1*. Griflith. bad be n lost with more
than two hundred human beings—men,
women and children. I-t was the most
frightful o-f the great lake disasters."
fat.
th.
“A wife must share her husband's
my duty is to follow thee.
Wherever thou goelst, apart from
I would not dwell in heaven.
Close as thy shadow will X cleave to thee
in this life and horeaf'icr;
Thou art my king, my only refuge, my
divinity.
Through thorny forests I will go before
thee, treading uown
The prickly brambles to make smooth the
path down before thee;
With thee the lad ioif leaves will he a
couch o-f down.
The desert cave more dear than state
liest palace.
With thee I'll live content upon roots and
fruits of the woods.
Sweet as the food of Paradise if eaten
with thee."
Fancy the dark-eyed, spiritual Hindu
swamis, who are the fashion in Now
York, holding up such ideals of wifehood,
to the society women there, whose, creed
as to marriage (generally speaking) is
that it should mean a fine house, a box
at the opera and diamonds galore, with
divorce in prospective if the matrimonial
yoke should not be soft and light as a
garland of roses. ^
Trained Nurses
It is becoming a craze among women to
be professional nurses. They are crowd
ing the nurse-training schools, the hos
pitals, sanitariums and infirmaries. The
young or middle-aged woman, who has
tried teaching, dressmaking and perhaps
writing, and has not succeeded in these
vocations, feels very sure that she can
become a trained nurse. But in this,
as in all other vocations, many are called
but few are chosen.
The craze for adopting the profession
of trained nurse comes from Europe. Aris
tocracy, yes, royalty, set the fashion.
Many of the daughters of noble and
royal houses entered schools for nurse-
training and were instructed how to care
for the sick. This was well. Sickness
visl'ts the high as well as the low. and
many a nof>ly-born mother has echoed the
wish of ill-fated Princess Louisi—Victo
ria’s loveliest daughter—who, while hov
ering about the bedside of her dying chil
dren uttered often the heart-broken ex
clamation: “Oh. that I knew how to
nurse 'them !’*
But a faculty for nursing iis as much a
rift as a faculty for poetry, painting or
music. The best nurses, like poets, are
born, not made, though it is true that a
mechanical knowledge of the work can
be acquired and is of value. Hut man)
gi-rls, who either fancy 'they are not
needed at home or prefer a life with
bustle and stir, determine to become
nurses, utterly regardless of the main
consideration—whether or not they are fit
ted for the work.
Often it is the impulsive, excitable
young woman who is attracted by what
she conceives to he the romance of the
life and work—women who are (guided by
their feelings rather than common sense.
But this is not the stuff of which the suc
cessful trained nurse is made. The right
kind of woman for the work is self-
possessed, cheerful, firm, sympathetic,
but with her sympathies under full con
trol, and kindly without being sentimen
tal and gushing.
It is not a rum an-tic profession, though
it is full of interest for the ones who
have a real call to it, and it Is thebe who
will succeed. In country towns and com
munities there are horn nurses whose
gift is soon discovered and appealed to.
Although they have no hospital training,
these are often as efticien-t in all ordi nut
cases as thorough professionals. We all
know at least one such wonian, whose
riTO Permanently Cured. No fits or nervousness
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Restorer. Send for FREE 84.00 trial bottle und
treatise. Da. B. H. Kin sc, Ctd., 831 Arch St., Phtl-
•delphia. Pa.
Hawthorne, the Man
P. rhaps no one is so loved ai= an au
thor, and so little known as a man, for
as Hawthorne says of himself: "So far
as I am a man of really individual attri
butes, X veil my face.”
However, no other writer has so mar
velously mingled with the charm of his
art it'he magic influence of hits personality
—an Influence that penetrates the writ
ten word of this wizard of the pen. There
beams upon us despite his studied and
natural reserve a light from bright eyes,
“deep lamps of eyes,” as Gail Hamilton
calls them, with an alluring spell ;ts silent
and supreme as it is inexplicable.
Unlike Dowell, -Hawthorne felt no lack
of response to the affectionateness of his
nature. Possessing in his wife "the one
heart and inind of perfect sympathy," he
felt no further need save to live through
out the whole range of his T&cu-ltles and
sensibilities. This -ideal life he sought
and found in the seclusion so sacredly
guarded by his devoted helpmate.
Sensitiv-a from childhood, a fondness for
outdoor life might have diverted his ge
nial- into other channels hut for an ac
cident. Being seriously lamed at 9, he
turned for diversion to -the available books
of -that day and was soon conversant with
Banyan and Spencer. Whether such au-
tliors gave undue bias to his mind, or
whether rude contact with actual en-
vir limon-t increased his sensitiveness, the
spiritual rather than -the material ever
appealed to him.
Bound to liis birthplace by two cen
turies of ancestors born and buried there,
h>- attribut'd tlie dreary and unprosper-
ous condition of his family to -the curse
incurred by them in 'their early ma-rtyr-
dum of witches and persecution of the
Quakers. This heritage of obloquy, with
the feeling of being set apart in the es
timation of the neighbors, made him feel
keenly the “chlllest of social atmos
pheres,” and yet he loved Salem. Mere,
in his youth, he led a iovless existence in
a New England town whose chief rhar-
aetciri.s;ic was a lack of architectural
beauty and of the quaint and picture-
esque; yet here it was, after some wan
dering, that lie was -to return and find
that open sesame to -truth through whose
potency he was to write that novel which
should “stand unsupported.”
It seems strange that in "that most
delightful lX-ttle nook of a study” at the
Old Manse his dream book should have
remained always a dream. Perhaps it
was due to the lotus flower, which Cur
tis says "grew along the grat=sy marge
of the Concord behind Hawthorne's
house." Even the reflection of earth and
firm inent pictured in ideal beauty in that
hro id stream brought no inspiration. And
reflection through any medium, be it the
pb id bosom of a stream or the haunted
verge of moonlit mirror, possessed for
Hawthorne the fascination of being “one
removed farther from the actual and
nearer the imaginative.”
V t in all his lo-ved retirement, a retreat
‘•breathing new seclusion at every turn,”
time hastened onward, and what he had
written was only a scattered reminiscence
revealing, it is'true, (glimpses of the man,
pure, reticent, sensitive, original and lov
able,.but yearning still with unifultiled de
sire.
Who could have foreseen that having
failed while in that charming home, In
hits quest for intellectual good, that one
idle rainy day he should find in a cob
web-bed, forsaken room of th© custom
house in Salem the rudimentary begin
ning for tha-t story that was to immor
talize his name. That transition from
the loved parsonage to this inhospitable
roof had been a "strange Vicissitude,”
and hardly was he reconciled to his
-three ye arts’ uncongenial labor by the
reflection that Burns and Chaucer once
held a similar office.
However, quick to find ithe kernel of
good in his unchosen fate, he bravely
suggests:
"It contributes greatly toward a man's
moral and* intellectual health to be
brought into contact with individuals un
like himself, who care lit-tle for his pur
suits, and whose sphere and abilities he
m ist go out of himself to appreciate.”
A wholesome discipline, maybe; but de
pressing doubtless to one who had look
ed down from summet ne-ights of happi
ness upon Emen.-on, and who had com
muned with Channing upon the mystic
Assabeth. With unyielding optimism, he
accepted this as a mere transitory period
and looked f l ward to the change that
should be essential to his good. Proverbs
to the contrary, it is our expectations
that are realized.
"Only through the spaces o-f time do
we come to center of opportunity.” The
faded ; r,d leng forgotten Scarlet Letter,
falling from the dusty roll of parchment,
besieged his sensibilities for an interpre
tation, and that old, unused, unfinished
room of -the Salem custom house became
a temple enshrining genius.
Oppressed as by some secret anxiety,
'the author stilled his unquiet impulse by
ceaseless toil, and read the completed
manuscripts to Jiis wife, witnessing her
emotion.
“Then there must be something In it,”
he exclaimed modestly, unconscious that
he had written liis masterpiece.
Afler all, we have caught only ta-Maliz-
ing glimpses of the man wholse “con
science never reproached him for betray
ing anything too sacredly individual.”
-and who so well deserves to be called “the
artist of the beautiful in prose.”
FETTUS.
Beautiful Wife o/ Author
and Her Versatile
M
RS. Will N. Har-
Thought and Home
4
4
4
4
4
ill Harben
ent
E Bryan
With the Household
fu-l wife of the Geor
gia writer, was a
M Iss Chandler, of
South Carolina. She
was visiting her
aunt. Mrs. J. C.
Bivings, of Dalton,
Git, and was barely
IS, being just out of
school, when the
Georgia writer of
short stories and
novels returned 'to
his native place af
ter a two years’ trip
abroad. They met,
fell in love and were
married.
Since that time
their life has heen
■an ideal one. They
went at once to
New York, took
•apartments and
gathered a r ound
them the many Bo
hemian friends that
Mr. Harben had al
ready made during
several years of
residence -t -h e r e.
Then they went to
Europe and now live
In New York with
the exception of
three or four months
in each year that
t h e y invariably
spend in Dalton and
Asheville. Mrs. Har
bin has a remark
ably fine lyric so
prano voice, which
she is cultivating
under the best mas
ters and is really one of the most beauti ful women the south has ever produced.
She is a good cri'tic and h-er husband declares that she has frequently saved him
from making serious blunders in his productions. They have a cluurming little boy
past 3 years of age that seems to have 1 nherited his mother’s tjeauty and his fath
er’s imagination. He is the very life of their home. Mr. Harben is a member
of the famous Author’s Club and on their “ladies’ day” Airs. Harben is often pres
ent.
She is a frequent guest, too, at the Barnard Club and at the Pen and Brush
Club. Her favorite amusement, howe ver, is attending the opera in season,
which amusement is really part of her n- usical education. She is quite domestic
and a fine housekeeper, never Reiving b een spoiled by admiration or attention.
It is possible that the Harbens may vis! t Atlanta on their return south in the
spring.
Women and the Home
Mrs Will N Harben
R. JULIA HOLMES
SMITH, who has made tho
health and the diseases of
children a special study,
says that the child of to
day is often injured phys
ically and morally through
hir nervous system at a
very early period of his
life. A baby at birth has
a brain much larger pro
portionately to the size of
the body than has a man.
The growth of the brain
goes on with wonderful rapidity, and
needs little stimulation for its develop
ment. Over-excitement is very unwise.
The young child should have a great
deal of quiet for tho evolution of its
nervous organism. It will be active
enough presently without any stimula
tion.
It is the nature of the Wealthy child
after infancy to be in motion almost in
cessantly. Professor Curtis says: "Last
year I tried hundreds of experiments oil
children in order to determine how long
a time they could be still. I found that
children under 5 would not sit without
moving more than thirty secon is, anil
children under 10 would not sit more
than ninety seconds. In order to find
out what was the average activity of
children of different ages. I bought four
American pedometers and put them on
children and adults. I found that the ac
tivity of children below 6 was 9 3-4 miles
a day. Of country children from 9 to 16;
the average was 9 1-2 miles. These fig
ures show that the child has plenty of
surplus energy and that its use is pleas
ant to him.”
When we realize that nervous force
has to be uied for all this muscular work,
a plea for care in the evolution of the
brain and the nervous organism in young
children in order to prevent trouble la tor
in life certainly seems justified.
gent understanding of a story by the
very young child. It interrupts the flow
of personal magnetism between the nar
rator and the child and hampers a free
dramatic interpretation.
Tell the story in simple. natural words,
and make it as picturesque as posS™Te;
also realistic up to a certain point. Bare,
hard realism should he avoided; a little
touch of the imaginative and ’fanciful is
both entertaining and ' elevating. Some
fairy stories are pure and delightful.
For instance, those of Hans Christian
Andersen, but there arc other fairy sto
ries that sin uld never he told to a child.
Those containing an element of horror
should be avoided, and tales of blood
thirsty giants and cruel stepmothers and
uncles, as we-II qs stories of fighting and
killing, of wrong and revenge. Tho spirit
of Christian civilization, which is peace
cn earth and good will to men, has been
thwarted by t:lie carl.v lessons of cruelty
and revenge taught in cradle tales and
children’s story books.
♦
Kitchen
A Nice Inexpensive Dish
meat
made
Tell me a story
One of the most effective instruments
of child instruction is the story—told, not
read. A book is a barrier to the intelli-
The nicest and least expensive
dish I know of for luncheon is
from the fore leg of veal—price 15 een is.
Boil it in a small quantity of water
until the meat will drop from the hone
and about a cupful of iuice or "stock ’
remains. Pass the meat through a meat
chopper and arrange in a mold with
chopped haid boiled eggs, olives or slices
of beets as you prefer. Season the stock
with salt, pepper and celery, pour over
the. mold and set on ice. If wanted
quickly add a little dissolved gelatine to
the stock. To serve, slice thin, or else
cut into dice, mix with a little
chopped celery and cover with a dressing.
It makes a delicious salad.
♦
The Handy Meet Chopper
Nothing in the kitchen furnishing line
Is so convenient and useful as a meat
chopper. It is cheap, easily kept in
order and it saves tedious work and
enables one to prepare many a palatable
dish in short order.
HOUSEHOLD LETTERS
The World’s Greatest Spectacle
On a cool, crisp autumn day I fins-t saw
Niagara. All my life I had tanged to
see this greatest of nature’s wonders. I
had tried to imagine what it must be to
stand in Victoria park and watch the
foaming, opalescent torrent take its
mighty plunge. But my imaginings fell
short of the reality. No language can
do justice to tho sublimity of the specta
cle, or the spell with which in enchains
the spirit of the beholder. The greatest
poets and painters haV® - despaired of por
traying Niagara. It would be folly for
me to attempt It.
The mighty picture has a frame worthy
of it. The greenery of the park, the ver
dure of Goat island, where the grass is
a vivid green, as it is in all western
New York; the pure air, the pale mist
with the gorgeous rainbow painted upon
it, all were so intoxicating in their love
liness that one could only sink down upon
one of the rustic benches and dream of a
heaven whose beauties would surpass the
beauty of this wondrous scene.
Yet withal, there comes an inexpres
sible sadness -to the behiider of this mas
ter work of nature. It impresses one with
a sense of one’s own littleness—the small
part one plays In -the scheme of the vast
universe.
The scene appeared ‘too magical to last.
As we drove away it seemed almost as if
what I had beheld -had been a dream.
But the picture In its entirety, the wild,
rushing waters, their mad plunge amid
foaxn and spray—will remain with me
forever.
Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselear, who has
spent much time in the study of 'the fall,
during all periods of the year, says:
“As to the bast season for viewing Ni
agara, each has its claim. Winter some
times gives the place an arTTstic pictur
esqueness, a dazzling semi-immobility, ut-
•tcrly unlike its affluent, multicolored sum
mer aspect, but one could hardly wish to
see It only In winter or in winter first of
all. It is most gorgeously multicolored,
of course, when its ravine and its islands
commemorate Its long-dead Indian’s l>y
donning the war paint of autumn. And
it is most seductively fair in early spring.
Then, at the beginning of May, when the
shrubs -are leafing and the trees are
growing hazy, its islands are the isles
of paradise. This is the time of the first
wild flowers. It is good to see Niagara
at this time. But i-t is still -better to see
it when its trees and shrubs and vines are
In fullest leaf and many of them in
blossom.”
Our trip back to Gotham was more
•pleasant, and as we then had only a few
days before returning heme, everything
seemed to be singing Atlanta, Atlanta!
While in New York I went -at such a pell-
mell gait that I had to store the things
I saw away in my mind, and I can think
of them now. Upon: my return, some one
•asked me what 1 hnd seen and at first
thought I could not think 1 of anything—
but of those attacks of grip a southerner
ts sure to capturq- upon being trans
planted to the metl ipolis. New York cer
tainly hath charm* /for -this deponent, and
deponent will ever® pray for a return to
its varied seenes.il NA-NNETTE.
WOULD like, dear friends,
to see you all assembled
before my home this glo
rious morning ready to
take a drive in rural wag
gonettes and “carry-alls”
to Stone mountain.
You know I live near--
4 miles across country—to
this third greatest natural
wonder of our continent.
I can watch from my win
dow its varying aspects,
that change with tho
weather and season. This
morning its bald brow Is crowned by a
springlike gray-pink mist that looks in
viting. I imagine there must be honey
suckles In bloom on the south side, shel
tered by that towering precipitous mass
of seamed and weather-stained granite.
At least there are yellow jessamines—
earliest and sweetest of southern flowers,
in the neighborhood of Stone mountain
there are half-acre spaces of ground lit
erally carpeted with this evergreen vino
that is a creeper when it can find noth
ing to climb by—like some of us human
beings.
Its classic, golden bells, breathing inef
fable perfume, are to me the loveliest
of flowers. I would like to stnd an arm
ful of the tang, blossomy sprays to Mar
garet Richard to gladden our sweet “shut
in." They are bright and sweet as her
own unselfish spirit, which pain cannot
dim. The little telepathic incident she
tells us today gives a chance glimpse only
into her 1-lfe. As I mention in a Timely
Talk, this transmission of thought is
not new, even among us; and it was
known and practiced in wonderful India
thousands of years ago.
We gain two new members today and
welcome the return of a former popular
sister, "Old Maid."whose name is certain
ly no longer appropriate (if it ever was),
judging from that charming honeymoon
like picture she gives us of herself and
"Dudley.”
I "I. 11.,” you should have appended your j
full, most musical name to that lovely
poem about old letters. Let us hear from I
you again.
Fineta’s clear-cut etching. "Hawthorne, j
the Man,” reminds me to ask you how I
many among you have read Hawthorne’s
' Blithedale Romance.” the least known
of his stories to southerners, bat one t' it
is peculiarly interesting since it give a
lealistic picture of the life in that queer
agricultural transcendental socialist com
munity which a number of men and
women artists, scholars and authors es
tablished on the outskirts of Boston and
called Brook FaVm. Blithedale was real
ly Brook Farm, and Z .-nobia, it is said,
was Margaret Fuller.
Certainly, Ike Heartsill, the House
hold ccurt will admit a jolly jester whose
bells tinkle so merrily. A\'e do net wish
to be a "grave body" at all, though we
will graciously appropriate the "intelli
gent” part of your characterization. We
may bo both merry and wise. The
Household, as said Mary Wilson, in a
long-ago letter, "is not a debating society
ha'll or a reception room; it is just a
quiet, free resting place for house moth
ers and home loving girls with now and
then a friendly bachelor or a nice bene
dict.
Why is there no word from Mary Wil
son and Musa Dunn, whose many friends
are waiting to hem - from them? Two of
the guesses that have come in private
letters ;.s to the identity of the name
less member have been that she is Mary
Wilson and lie correspondent is sure she
is Musa Dunn.
Those who have enjoyed Nannette's
sprightly story of her last summer’s out
ing will be glad to knw that she will
take another trip next summer.
Mrs. Foster’s tonder little poem may
be out of date as a valentine, but it is
ail right as to sentiment
I hope Airs. Powe will give us a
little sketch of farm life in southwest
Alabama. Macaria’s belief that woman's
strength lies in her affections is shared,
I am sure, by most of the Household.
Very few' women will echo the Engiisli
poet, Airs. Norton's, cynical exclamation,
"The heart, the heart! better far for a
woman to forget that she has a heart;
the mind's empire is serener and happier
far.” MEB.
Mrs. Bryan desires a complete list
of the full names and addresses of the
Householders. A quick response to
this call will oblige her greatly. Ad
dress Mrs. Mary E. Bryan, Clarkston,
Ga.
third to show you how to cast your vote."
"Well,” I answered. “There’s you and
papa and Jack.”
"Then besides,” he went on, "what
would you do if you did vote?*'
“Oh, I would use all my influence to
purify politics,” I answered.
quantities of the bugs and worms de
structive bo vegetable life; so, after ail,
it was a blessing.
I often think of dear Lizzie Thomas,
and piyiy that she may have health o
carry tin her noble missionary work in
i far Japan. I greatly enjoy the thoughts.
"And you do that now, dear. You li'fle j advice and suggestions of tho Household
women purify us by ytc-uir good lives and
your tine sense of right. I don’t see how
any man can he corrupt that has known
and loved a good woman."
He took lrom the drawer a small gold-
framed picture -of me and a miniature
portrait of his dead mother and placed
them on the desk before him.
“I can never be very ‘corrupt’ while 1
have these two faces watching me,” he
said. His brown eyes looked down, so ten
der and sad that my heart ached for him;
remembering his unforg-otten lass, and I
drew the curly head to me and kissed
him.
"Dudley, I don’t believe I care to vote
after all,” I said as he. held me close a mo
ment.
“And now that I have that settled, I
mult run over and see if Beth has begun
to paint 'the cards. I believe after all
pink will be prettier; don’t you."
“1 believe that woman's prerogative is
to change her mind,” he laughed.
"Well, grant iter that right at least,”
I retorted. ‘ ‘Goodby; when I want more
legal -advice—or candy—I’ll call again.”
And 1 made my escape from the study.
“Tell us about your valentines,” said
iC'ur Mater. One of mine that I appre
ciated highly was a “photo” of “Duke”
of the Household. If I cottid, without
breaking a promise, I would tell you how
near there came to being a Duchess att
"Smoky Hollow." Duke promised to re
turn bo his Household allegiance, if 1
would. !3o look out -for his highness.
Dorothy Drew, I a-m so sorry not to
have seen you again in Mobile. Did you
receive the little souvenir I sent you while
in San Francisco? Come back to the
Household.
Sylvan Glenn, -thanks for the book. I
enjoyed your letter and will answer it
soon.
Romulus, forgive me for not answering
your letter. I’ll be “dood” next time.
Don't frown. Little Alother; I am going
right now. I am bubbling over with hap
piness since we have our own again. Love
to all from "OLD AIAID."
An Instance of Telepathy —A Theory
item in “The Pilgrim,”
gives a list of 4 ilie Andersen stones
which mothers • ill find most entertain
ing and approf^*- ite for satisfying the
eager petition. ’’ell mo a story,” that
comes so often imetlracs as to be an
noying and perptf Ting. The list includes
Dutejiing.” “Red Shoes,”
” “The Drop of Wa-
and Little Claws,”
Anderson, and most
Boston collection of
s. particularly “The
“The Lost Lamb”
Ie Eight House Girl.”
Mrs. Eda Von
“The Ugly
“The Silver Shilll
ter,” “Great Cla
from dear old H
cf bhe tales in tl
kindergarten sto;
Man on the Chi
and “Dora, the
How Dudley Gave "Good Advice’-
We all lo-ve flattery. Yes, don't deny
it, for it is 'true that we all do love to be
■told nice things about ourselves. We do
not like it as flattery; we wish to be
lieve it is true.
So, when some one wrote me the other
day: “Come back to The Sunny South
Household, 'they want you,” I believed it,
because I wanted to. I suppose, and i said
to myself: “It will never do to have
those dear Householders worrying over
my absence and longing to hear my
voice. (
So here I have come, and I have, some
thing to ask you about. If you please.
How do you stand on the question that
Iseems now more “burning” than ever be
fore: “Shall women vote?" You know
ithe suffragists have lately had an import
ant convention in Washington, and they
have a number of influential men on their
side.
I have lately been reading some very
convincing arguments on th© subject, and
I decided that we women were being
cheated out of our rights. I went to
Dudley >to get a little legal light on the
matter. He was poring over some dry
book In the library when I slipped in,
perched myself on the arm of his chair
and slipped a rose in hiB buttonhole.
“Well, what Is it?” he asked, eyeing
the rose suspiciously. “Is the 'phone
out of order and am I to run by Beth’s
and tell her to paint the souvenir cards
pink instead of blue? Or am I to stop
by the box office and get tickets for
“Faust.” or—” ,
“Huish, Dudley! Don't be frivolous. I
have come to ask you a grave question.
When are you men going to let we women
vote, so we ca.n help you to rule things?”
"Rule things! Bless me! You rule things
•now! There’s myself, for instance, I don't
dare 'to pass near a candy shop without
going in and getting Huyler’s best, which
reminds me that I was dutifully obedient
this afternoon.”
He opened his desk and produced a box
of bonbons. I turned up the sugared vio
lets with the Ups o" my fingers, but re
turned to the charge.
“You are trying to make me forget my
question, but, indeed. I am serious.”
“Now, little girl, who has been putting
these notions In your head?” he aisked,
drawing me down on his knee.
"Why, I see a great deal about it in
the papers, and It seems it is our right,
and really I think I’d like to vote.”
“Bless your heart, it would take three
men to go with you to the polls, as
Lilian Bell once said, one to hold your
gloves, one to hold your purse and the
About Courtship
Dear Household Friends: In response
to the suggestion, in Mrs. Bryan's “Chat”
•that we should tell what we thought
about telepathy, I would say it has in
terested me for some time. I have come
to believe, to some extent, in the influ
ence of one mind over another. I have
had experiences, and have listened to the
recounted experiences of others, ail seem
ing ito prove that there is a sort of “wire
less telegraphy” between souls, partic
ularly between souls that have a stt8 ng
affinity for one another.
Several years ago I saw by the morn
ing paper of our city that a popular elo
cutionist would ho here for several weeks
and would give a serif's of readings in
one of the colleges. Often readers and
musicians just as talented, nio doubt,
had coime and gone, and I had wished to
see and hear them, but never had I
wished it so strongly as I wished to see
and hear this one. Perhaps her selections,
■among which were some of my favorite
poems from tho works of favorite writer's,
and perhaps, also, the fact that she had
been born in South Carolina, had some
thing -to do with this. Be that as it. may,
the longing to hear her grew upon me,
though being a “shut in” it was impossi
ble for me to attend her leadings. Every
m-orning after she had filled an engage
ment the evening before, I read of her
su-ccesls, and rejoiced in it, though she
was a -stranger and I did not dream she
knew of my existence. What was my
surprise, then, to have her call to see
me one afternoon!
She said she had read a. little poem from
my pen, and had m-ade imftiiries concern
ing the writer. Upon learning I was an
invalid who could not attend entertain
ments of any kind, she concluded I might
enjoy hearing her recite, and determined
to find time in which to viisit me. When
I told her how much I had desired to
meet her, she said, laughing: "It was
telapathy -that brought us together!”
“Once upon a time,” as stories say,
(though this is not a story!), while 1
was on a visit to some friend's, a gentle
man was a guest in the same house, who
believed that telepathy might be an aid to
a man in his wooing.
“If I were courting my wife now,” he
said, "I would experiment with it in mi-
courtship. I would determine in my mind
that she should think cf me, and 1 would
think of her so strongly and so constantly
-that she could not fail to keep me in
mind.”
\l’e asked him, laughingly, did not a
man think often and strongly of his lady
love anyway, even when not interested
in telapathy, and so use it unconsciously.
But lie was really serious, and Isaid that
a girl could win the love of any man to
herself by making all possible use of
telapathy. We suggested that this might
be a dangerous experiment, as otner
girls might be trying the same thing, and
the man himself might be trying it on
some other girl at the same time. Then
what confusion might he wrought in both
hearts and heads!
Perhaps we cannot attract love to our
selves in this way, and it is well we can
not. We like to feel that love is a free,
spontaneous gift, and seeks /s of its
own free will and accord. But mind in
fluences mind more than we realize at
present, and more than we will under
stand for a long time to come.
MARGARET A. RICHARD.
Columbia, S. C.
To my Husband
sisters. I agree with Tessa that old let
ters (most of them) should be burned. If
you will like -to hear it, I will give you a
short description of tbits part of the sunny
south. AI. T. POWE.
Branch, Choctaw Count), Alabama,
♦
MyMa's New Dress
Dear Little Mother Meb and House
holders: In olden times no rural court
was considered complete without its jes
ter. NjW 1 think eur Household court,
though a grave and intelligent body,
might allow one wearrr of the < up and
bebs, and 1 beg that I may be that one.
So, "give me a seat at our lady's feet,”
and I’ll say—what ishe will permit me to
say.
1 have been trying lately :o read somo
of Kipling's works, but, h my! how I
hate the whole lot! Reading them makes
me think of the first time I tried eating
oysters. I just shut my eyes and swal
lowed them whole. Of course I don't ex
actly shut my eyets to read Kipling, but
just call up my resolution and take hitn in
in big -gulps. I know that what 1 think
or say about this successful writer docs
not signify, it is like a pigmy taking
up a knitting needle against a giant, so
I’ll hush.
Oh, Tessa, how well you know woman!
I have always told mi that m-an was
woman's superior int' ilectually, though
I have never succeeded in convincing her?
of this fact. So when I read her your
letter her face contracted till it look <1
like a dried apple, and remained so a
full minute; then slowly relaxed, as she
said:
“It—is—not—true,” emphasizing each
word by striking the table with the wa
ter dipper, "and that Tessa Roddey
doesn't know what she’s talking about.”
After -this she wouldn’t let me even
broach the subject, threatening to anni
hilate me with the mulling pin or drown
me with dilsh water when I attempted
to prove to her the superiority of my
sex. But I’ll toll you a little incident
that goes to show the truth of my and
Tessa's opinion, and rna is the heroine
of the incident.
I think I told you that my maternal pa
rent was having a n & w dress made. Well,
it was finished and sent home and ma
arrayed herself in it one Sunday morn
ing and came down stairs and sailed into
the sitting room in all her glory like
another queen of Sheba. Pa had his
back to the door, for he was punching
the fire when she came in, and when ho
heard the rustling of her fibre ruffles
he turned round and dropped the poker
in his amazement. He stared at her a
minute before he r- r n'en-d himself enough
to ask in a weak voice:
“Sarah! Is that you, Sarah?”
“Of course. William. Don’t be a gump,”
she answered tartly, and then she swept
back to her room. I was going with her
to church that morning. ariR f v is j use "
congratulating myself how well ma tank
ed and how stunning we would appear in
church, when she hove in sight again and
my feathers took a sudden fail, for what
had she done hut pin on her bosom a
huge white ribbon bow—one of lust -sum
mer’s left overs!
‘ Oil, ma!” I protested. “For gorodne?a
sake don’t wear that thing; it looks line
the breast plate of Oo’iah!”
"Hush, Isaac, my son,” she said with a
superior air. “What doer? a man know
about the finishing touches of a lady's
toilet?”
“But, ma, -they don’t wear those big
bows now. You'll not see another one of
them in church.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she answered lofti
ly. “I have strength of mind enough, I
hope, to wear what I like without weakly
asking what others wear.”
I was silent, and away we went. I felt
crestfallen as we ent- red the church, for
I knew ma looked like a prize chrysan
themum. and I felt like everybody’s eyes
were on us. I sot us as obscurely sealed
as I could, and I “swunk” up as small
as possible. I watched my parent fur
tively from under my brows, and I was
certain she was looking around for a.n-“
other bow. She didn’t find one, and sha
began to fidget in her seat. Before tho
first solo was over. I felt something
rustle against my hand, and, great Moses!
she had taken the big bow off and there
she was poking it at me—joins and all!
"Take It, Isaac.” she said in a stage
whisper. "Put my bow in your pocket.’
I grabbed the monster, sticking one of
its pins into my hand, and hastily thrust
it out of sight. After that I could pay
some attention to the sermon -and so could
ma. I think she will listen to me next
•time—and, maybe, she’ll’ admit that Tessa,
wasn’t so far wrong.
Well, now. I have told my little joke,
and I’ll retire from the joresonce of the
court. Goodby. I am yours till the milky
way spills its milk.
I. N. HEARTSILL.
Women Should Cultivate Affection
The bolls of memory call me back
For years three, ten and nine.
Through rugged fields of Time where I
First met you, Valentine.
O’er hills, through vale, we’ve trudged
along.
Where hopes and fears entwine.
Though many a thorn has pierced my
feet.
You're still my Valentine.
Time’s snow flakes which have touched
your brow
More thickly fell on mine.
Despite the storms of years you’ve been
My only Valentine.
—M. E. FOSTER.
Fosters Mill, Ga.
Greeting and Congratulation
Dear Mrs. Bryan and Householders:
Will you admit a new member to your
pleasant circle? I* was so glad when
The Sunny South announced that dear
Mrs. Bryan would take change of the
Woman’s Kingdom. Long may she flu
the seat and entertain us with her “Time
ly Talks” and pleasant “Chat.”
I live In “sunny” southwest Alabama.
Notwithstanding, the winter here has
been anything but sunny—continuously
cold, indeed, since November. Our fruit
treeis are a month late in budding, but
this will Insure us a full crop, and >the
cold winter has. they say, killed off
Don't think T am a self-appointed moni
tor. ‘always ready to give advice. The way
of it is this: As we grow older, important
truths come to us through experience.
Experience is a is tern teacher; he enforces
wisdom with the rod. We who thus lenrn
from him would spare the sting of his
rod to others.
“Never marry without love,” says Zula
Cook and others. It Is wise counsel. Alany
marriages, alats! have little to do with
love on one side; often on both. Airs.
Browning’s “Aurora Leigh” says in re
jecting her cousin Romney:
”1 have not seen
In this cold land of England so much love
As answers even to make a marriage
with.”
One does not say: "Alarry a man be
cause you love him.” There may be a
hundred reasons why you should not do
this, but there is no good and true reason
why you should marry one whom you do
not love.
With or without love, life must have
Its Gethseniane and its cross, but these
will be harder tv> bear without the sym
pathy of love and fellowship.
If your nature is not affectionate, it
lacks a necessary quality. Cultivate af
fection. It is a flower that will repay
your care It)? perfume will sweeten the
most lonely lot. Love your friends, your
children, your husband. Don’t merely like
them.
Affection is not hard to cultivate. "Af
fect the virtue if you have it not.” There
are but few women in whom it is wholly
wanting until it is crushed out by unkind
ness or treachery. Its tendrils are only
too ready to cling to any supjxirt within
their reach. Yet true love forgives and
blesses the giver. Affection in seme form
should be the undercurrent of woman's
life, that it may flow c&imly and musical-
ly on to the great source of all love. /
MACAKIA.