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THE SUNNY SOUTH SEVENTH PAGE <§* ❖ ❖ <§* <§♦ 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 ■ 115 after flint day’s u»e of Dr. Kline’s threat Nerve 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.