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*27£fZT SUNNY SOUTS
SEVENTH PAGE
With the Household
CONTTNT7ED FROM 6IXTH PAGE.
1.v, leaving you with the Impression that
here was an Ideal household.
Hal by and by Dama Rumor began to
w... •*;m.t It about that the home of the
Ij;a:iks. Instead of being a Paridise, was
lh> other kind of place; that the sweet
*.-13 quarreled among themselves, and
that dear papa” and “mamma darling**
* »*d J and scrapped. It was even said
t . a ir* th- home “scrapping*” 'the bald-
Ji» -j • J• J end of the broom was sometimes
t< or ted to.
It was hard to believe. Good Mrs.
Si .ith wouldn’t credit it at all. It was
i’j.u slanderous gossip, she said; and she
*“ m to tfee the Blanks the morning she
'tl It. It was not a company hour,
ti ; J n response came to her knock.
•* hinking no one was at home, she was
turning oft when she heard an angry
i i cam and a volley of excited talk In
t )• back yard. She was hastily beating
* retreat when, hearing the sound of
x -hlng footsteps, she looked back and
f ' a one of the sweet girls dash around
t '• corner of the house, screaming and
wj:h halr ioose and flying. Behind her,
broom in hand, came her father—that
i . »ring papa! JIc* certainly meant bus-
■c , for he brought the broom down
w ■ n a w hack—that made Mrs. Smith
i ‘ ,ir,y cr >’ out in apprehension. But the
i’i. . was game. She gathered herself up,
wheeled around, dodged the broom and
wij.» Je a vigorous dash at her assailant,
-dr- Smith lied from the wene of strife,
but looking back once more she saw
l- tpa stretched across a flower bed and
the broom lying on ihe porch floor.
^ ou would think the Blanks would act
differently toward each other after this;
but not so. When they were seen uptown
a day or two afterwards they were just
ft* sw^t toward each other as ever.
Thev bad not seen Mrs. Smith, and they
w're oblivious of the fact that their
family rows were the ' talk of the town.”
Now, those people have many good
ti aits. They would be indeed “a charming
■•nil} (for they undoubtedly love each
£»th* ; but for one thing—one fatal thing
— t* in per. How can such a household be
reformed, dear friends? Father and
mother were possessed of an uncontrolled
t* mper, and the children Inherited it, and
wf re ne >'er trained to check it. Parents
v . . have no self-control cannot tearh
:hi ii children to control themselves.
Atlanta, Ga. ^ p #
Should Wives Work Outside the
House?
■■ necessity requires it, and leisure from
h<.me duties p« rmit it, why should not
* married woman, possessed of health
and mental capacity, make use of an
opportunity to earn money by work out
side h«T home? In this enlightened day
it need not be argufy] that reasonable
" a dds to a woman's health and hap
piness, that the children of an active
mother are superior, and that a woman.
" * ,Pn can, should do her share of
Ihe world’s work.
Thei,* is no danger of a man and his
1 ’ driftim.; spirt because their work
is on diverse lines. Their vocations mav
differ, but the aim of a true wife and
husband Is one; maintenance of home
and the rearing of children.
W Ives who are not called on by noces-
*l ,v to help support their families should
thankful for their flnancial plentitude.
which leaves them free to work for the
y *n.i of humnaity—an Increasingly broad
field of labor.
W Ives who feel that they should help
suit their husband's too scant income are
"f I wo classes—the childless and those
who are mothers of young children. For
the former her duty is plain, if she has
talent or ability and the opportunity pre
sents itself, let her engage in some occu
pation that will enable her to pay for
having her house work done, with a mar
gin over for pocket money. She will at
t ■.h‘-*si find as much time to devote to her
. siie would If abv* did ail her
house work, and she may make herself
and her conversation more attractive to
him than if she were a tired and **ver-
work' d rook and housekeeper.
For the woman who Inis children the
problem is more diflicult. Still, let every
woman learn something that will enable
her to earn money, When the care of
children requires that she give up her vo
cation, let her do it gracefully and bide
her time, still clinging to the idea of her
chosen work, keeping her hand in, as it
wore, by thinking and reading about it.
This will lift her thoughts out of the
monotonous and common-place, and give
hi qo and Inspiration for the future.
Through her activity of mind and firm
ness of purpose, her children will be su
perior. There are many Instances where
motherhood has not seriously interfered
with a woman’s following on outside
• ltion» while giving >il needed at
tention to tfielr children.
Th« ideal home iA where the husband
is able and willing to supply the comforts
of life, and keep the wife from over
work. She Is then enabled to devote her-
clf to ministerring to the finer needs of
her family,. Unfortunately, this ideal is
not always realized. Many women have
husbands who are unable or unwilling to
the nnnawrr comforts for a
home. When this is the case, the woman
is fully Justified in becoming a partner in
the bread earning business!
MRS. GlvORGK WHARTON.
Brevard, N* C.
is It Any Worse?
ilero 1 am again, dear Householders,
for a 5 minutes’ chat. Just give me a seat
by Old Fashioned Dame. What were you
baying, dear Dame? That our brothers
must be judged by a lower moral stand
ard than our sisters? And why, pray?
Why may not men be as clean in their
lives us women? If this were demanded
of them by society they would try* to
live up to it. and their parents would see
the necessity of giving their sons the
tame careful moral training they give
to their daughters.
As "erring women" thoy need not be
“received in our homes.” only helped by
kindness t*j an honorable life and honest
work. Bait suppose one were so reeieved
and actually ‘married a son of the
household." which seems so dreadful an
Idea to you. dear Dame, would it be so
very much worse to havft a son marrj
a reformed woman than to have a daugh
ter marry a mrv n who has not reformed
and prver may? And this Is what takes
place constantly.
No, I don't agree with you. dear Old
Fashioned Dame. I am not intending to
try to reform the big world one little bit,
but I am going to try to help my young
brother lead a pure life:
Tom Lockhart and Ben Knight come
among us again. How are you getting
on? I enjoyed Tom’s letter very much.
Drummer, do not desert us, come again.
Merry Nell, in what part of big Texas
do you live? Margaret Richard. I too.
am about to experience the ordeal of
moving. If I may come again, I will
tell you about my new home.
QUIEN SABE.
Utopia, Tex.
Round About Courtship.
Supposing you and I one day
Should cltmb a hill together.
And, because we chanced to mlsa our
way.
Should choose to blame the weather;
It would be r«UIy too absurd
To use the very mildest word.
Supposing that we should decide
DROPSY
CURED
Gives.
S nick
eltef
qij Removw all «well!n* In 15 to
iii$26 d»v«; effect* a permanent
- epicure In SO to 60 days. Trial
treatment given IrtJ. Write
Or. H. H. Green's Sons,
Bos 5.
To ride out In the morning.
And. because we happened to collide,
ghould give the coachman warning;
How toVLlly unfair ’twould be.
Although arranged ’twixt you and
Supposing that the house took fire,
And everything were lost;
And straightway we sent off a wire
For pa to pay the cost;
He might quite reasonably say
It must wait till another day.
Supposing that we hired a boat
And took with us our dinner.
Then sent the doctor back a note
To complain we were no t\i!nner;
He certainly would say to us,
“How utterly ridiculous!"
But now supposing that I make
You quite a new suggestion,
I do Implore you, for my sake,
To listen to the question.
And never mind what's gone before,
1 won’t talk nonsense any more.
Supposing that I’ve earned enough
To ask and keep a wife—
Could 5'ou entrust to one so rough
Your gentle, tender life?
I ve rattled on from nervousness,
Seal your forglvene** with a kiss!
ROSE BOUP.DILLON.
Wells, England.
Love Will Help Fill the Pantry.
Little Mother and wise Householders,
will you frown If a young and light
hearted bachelor steps within your cir
cle?
I want to say that I am dissatisfied
with Doctor's theory that marriage
should be founded on material consider
ations. God founded It on love. In the
days of Eden. Adam had plenty of
work and business on hand, and he had
the friendship and eompanlonship of an
gels, but he was not happy until he had
the affection and the comradeship of a
woman.
Please don't understand me to say
that I am In sympatJiy with young peo
ple rushing headlong* into marriage with
no prospects for the future and no defi
nite aim in view; but I believe that
where two people are congenial and
have their hearts filled with love for
each oTher, Fney will find a way to fill
the pantry shelves as well. Did you
ever see an affectionate married pair
very unhappy? They may be extremely
poor, and beset with trials, but mutual
love and sympathy help them to bear
these, and they are really far happier
than the unloving rich couple with all
their money and grand fetes.
I feel this bright morning that If you
were to take old-fashioned love away
from the world you would take away
also the desire to live. I have had some
bitter trials In my short life, but I have
known what it Is to love and be loved
in return. My native home Is in old
South Carolina, but as I am a telegra
pher by trade I frequently have a
change. Georgia is a delightful state,
but my native heath is the "bestest."
One of my greatest pleasures Is The
Sunny South and the lively Household
pagp. Won't some of j*ou sweet girls,
who write so charmingly, take pity on a
boy who is away from home and
mother? No? Well, then, TIT tell you -
a secret, and hope for your good wishes.
I have a sweetheart bark In old Caro
lina. When I think of her, It uplifts me
and I feel as If I had wings. I actually
hurst into song—like this, that may be
without time or tune, but expresses my
feellggs:
"My dear little girl, my sweetheart, my
dove,
Far away over valley and hill,
through each day,
bam living my 'Jf
my own lov*®
Sustained by J'/
thoughts of you still.
There «re btmofeds of dainty ytrang
beauties
In the world wherever I roam.
But none to compare with my lady
In the South Carolina old home.
You are fair as a garden of roses
A-glisten with diamonds of dew.
But the true heart that beats in your
bosom
Is dearer than charms one may view.
My sweet. let us live for each other.
Together while seasons go by.
Nor loose hands till we reach the dark
river.
Then meet in the sweet By and By ,
A KNIGHT OF THE WIRE.
Savannah, Ga.
Your Songs.
(To a Poet.)
Yes, sing in the daytime.
And sing In the night.
And sing In the gloaming—
The tender twilight:
But sing not of sorrow,
Sing not of dearth;
The songs that are hopeful
Ennoble the earth.
No audience Is waiting
For tears or for sighs;
Go stifle your moaning
And dry your wet eyes.
No harp In the willow.
No doleful refrain.
But fling free on the ether
Your happiest strain.
Chant only of blessings.
■While Journeying along.
And the world will be sweeter
For hearing your song.
EMMA B. VANDET7SEN.
A Plea for the Backwoods Folk.
Though not a hundred miles from
Georgia's capital and that fount of
knowledge. The Sunny South. I cry
from the top of one of the reddest hills
of the "red old hills of Georgia” in de
fense of farmers of the poorer class,
somewhat stigmatized by one or two
members of the brilliant Household
band.
I have been for some time living
among these backwoods folk; not as
one* of them, though endeavoring to ha
by adoption, and I have seen more of
the rfally good and beautiful In life and
character than I ever saw In more high
ly cultured circles. They seem to have
caupht the hopeful, trustful spirit of
their"surroundings—the green woods, the
happy birds, the sparkling streams.
Their homes. It is true, are rude In
structure. They go forth by day Into
the open air. and by night they have tlie
air without going forth; but they arc
continually In the midst of nature, lis
tening to her silent teachings and gain
ing through these a strength of body
and of soul more to he deslr^l than the
learning found In books.
I count It good pleasure that I was
permitted, after walking weary miles
over the hills, to be cheered at the end
by the hospitality of these good people,
and to share with them their all-thelr
room their bread, their bed—freely and
cheerfully offered. The content I found
In these homes sometimes reproached me
for having complained of my own sur
roundings. which, to be sure, were very
different. In these humble homes I
found all that Is realty necessary to life
—and whatever la more than necessary
Is merely vanity.
They, had good, wholesome food
enough for themselves and some to
spare to that great mass of consumers
whose very heart-thrqbs depend upon
the "man with the hoe?' I found fewer
cross-grained men and women among
them than In any class I knew of. and
more true self-respect, which is natural,
since farmers are the only really inde-
pendent people on earth, producing near
ly all they eat and wear, while their oc
cupation Is not one that strains the
nerves and taxes the vitality.
"Johnny Jump-up,” I don’t need to
Imagine how the women occupants of the
log-cabin "endure their existence” 1
Modern
*
•Jack Ashoi
An Unru
•e" No Longer ^
ly. Heathenish Animal
By IRVING KING.
P from the shining paths
of the sea. from the fields
of foam and the watery
steeps, come 20,000 mer
chant sailors a month to
pour themselves into the
streets of New York ar.d
rest awhile from their la
bors. Old Ideas and old
superstitions die hard,
and none seems more
gifted with a baleful and
persistent life than the
stereotyped idea of “Jack
ashore." It is embalmed in song and
story. From the days of Dibdln to the
days of “Strike up the band, here comes
a sailor,” Jack ashore is pictured as a
reckless. Irresponsible individual, whose
first act on striking the beach Is to get
drunk, get into a fight and seek lewd
company, the devil and all his works.
Whatever Jack ashore may have been
In the past. Today he fulfills none of
the requirements of the popular picture
of him. If he did, these 20,000 merchant
sailors a month would make New York
howl and keep It howling. As It Is, their
presence In port Is unnoticed except by
those whose business brings them into
contact with the Invading army of the
sea.
- It Is probably because Kipling's
"Seven men from all the world back to
port again,
Reeling down the Ratcliff road, drunk
and raising Cain,"
appeals more to the imagination than
' Seven men from all the world’’ looking
over the recent periodicals In a seaman's
reading room, that the world refuses to
give up its old Idea of Jack ashore.
The old-time sailor who shivered his
timbers, damned his eyes and dashed his
Modern sailors ashore.
A disappearing type.
tarry toplights Is almost as extinct as
the dodo—gone with the Black Ball Line
to dance on Fiddler’s Green with "Liv
erpool Jack” and "Hanging Johnny."
And the sailor who considers It his first
duty on getting ashore to get drunk and
"paint the town” Is fast following him
into the limbo of things which were
picturesque but uncivilized, like the
feudal system and the wampum age.
He hasn't quite gone yet. though. The
old time improvident roystering sailor-
man Is still with us occasionally, and
can be fouqfi bv looking for him, some
times without. It would be too much to
say that the character of the world's sea
faring pomilation as n whole has
changed, but it is an Indisputable fact
that It Is rapidly changing.
Today the sailor Is simply a skilled
workman employed on a vessel Instead of
ashore. W.hen he Is ashore he is taking
his pleasure and the ar-
Ssilors rests among the 20,000
•s Skilled seamen who monthly
Workers come ashore in the port
Are of New York are less in
Plentiful proportion than among
any other class of work
men gathered In con
siderable numbers for an outing. Twenty
years ago a sailor who was a total ab
stainer was as hard to find as "roses in
December, ice in June,” but today he Is
not at ail uncommon. Scarcely a ship
comes Into port but has a few "blue rib
bon" men on board of her. As a rule.
Jack ashore still likes his beer, but he
takes It In moderation. It would be ab
surd to allege that Jack has turned angel
all at once, He still is verr human and
liabie to fa.ll by the wayside. And when
he does fall he makes so much row about
It, after the bad old model, that he helps
to keep alive the traditions which would
make all sailors even as he. "Ben Bolt
of the salt sea wave” still has something
about which differentiates him from a
landsman, and be will have till "there
shall be no more sea" and .the last sailor
sails no more; but morally he has be
come just about what most other men
are afloat and ashore; if anything, a .little
above the average. -
Not many years ago there used to be a
score of places along the water front
patronized almost exclusively by sailors,
where they caroused and danced' with
their painted partners, reckless, abandon
ed, a prey to land, sharks, careless of
God and man. Now there is not a real
old-time place of the son In the city. On
West street. Charlton street and like
street there are tree reading rooms ex
clusively for sailors, and these rooms are
Riled ail the time, every day. by Jack
ashore. In these places Jacky reads the
papers and magazines, plays checkers or
other games, and meets and talks with
men of his calling from all over the
world. These arc tne sailors; clubs, when
ashore, and no other club in the world
can show such a cosmopolitan gathering
as one of these sailors' reading rooms,
j.’or when the sailors of New York s ship
ping come ashore they come from ail the
ports of all the "seven seas"—the Swede.
Finn. Dane and Norwegian, all differing
from" each other in polit.es tfor they taiK
international politics, these sailors), but
all agree in their hatred of the Russian—
men of swathy face and bearded lip from
u> noa or e/porto; perhaps a swart V\ est
Indian or a lithe and wiry Malay or Ka
naka; sailors from Spain or Buenos
Ayres or a man from Rio longing for a
sight of the sugar loaf and to see again
the palm trees touch the skies; all these,
and more, too, make up the 20,000 sailors
who rest from the sea every month in
the greatest port in the new wor.d.
There is. cf course, a large number of
yankee sailor as extinct as is commonly
Irish, English and Scotch; nor is the
supposed.
One type of your yankee sailor comes
in. say from Maine, being engaged m
"the heavenly trade of coasting. ’ the
captain is a person of
ThUSwell the first importance in
Yankee his own town and his
Sailor Very crew is largely made up
— ot h*”sons and nephews,
op-dlie sons ot his neigh-
hojis. o When this sort
of Oe. sailor nojno^ i .U? iorf?\he sg^doni fre
quents the phuse.s^’there - other sailors
congregate.’' “The’ be"#* put on theJr
“store clothes*’—sciiine of *lhem have pat
ent leather shoes Avliich they booght the
last time “they wffi down to Bawston"—
and pay a visit to some theater, where,
if they keep their huge rough hands out
of sight, they may be mistaken for golf
players or yachtsmen returned • from a
cruise, except that^their clothes are not
exactly of the latest cut and are badly
in need of pressing. 'There are many
other American sailors, too, not in the
“heavenly trade ^of coasting,” among the
20,000, and these, jike their brothers,
may be seen In force in the reading
rooms.
A goofl sample sailors’ reading room
is the one at 399 West street. This place,
which opens early and closes late, sel
dom has less than 100 sailors of all na
tionalities in it, and the manager says.
Common
Typ«.
!n talking with a man, it is no uncom
mon thing to find that he is a member
of the Young Men’s Christian Associa
tion. Fancy that, ye whose “Jack
ashore’’ is of the old-time variety.
Not all sailors ashore patronize the
reading rooms, of course. There are
those who prefer to go to a concert hall,
where they can hear some music and
drink a. few glasses of beer, or to visit
some cheap theater. Then they return
to their ships, seldom the worse for
liquor. Stand in Furman street, Brook
lyn, some night with the towering cliffs
of Columbia Heights - above you and see
Jack ashore returning late to his floating
home from an outing of this sort. The
steamers to which , they are bound are
laden with the products of Brazil, the
shores of the Spanish main, and the
lands where the flashing surges break
upon the coral reefs of the Antilles.
The air is heavy with the odor of raw
sugar and green. coffee and a thousand
other tropical scents. Hardly a sound
is heard in the long, dim street but the
footfalls of the returning sailors. Now
and then you might see a man whose
walk is unsteady, and who talks excited
ly, but there are not many of them. As
a rule they walk quietly in groups, hur
rying abroad, apparently none the worse
for their night’s pleasure. The increased
pay v.iiich the sailor gets nowadays has
done fn.’.ih to change his character for
the better. He is now able, with economy,
to send a little money each time he is
paid off to a little home across the w*aves
or to start a little bank account against
the time when “the lass that loves a
sailor” shall be his. Following the sea is
not the old dog’s life that it was.
Jack paid off, and living ashore in his
boarding house, used to be the abject
slave of the boarding master, who would
keep hjm until his money
Jack was gone, when he sent
No him to sea again. 'Twas
Longer the old song, “Get up,
the Jack; let John sit down.”
Slave Conditions now are vastly
improved, and Jack waits
m his boarding house for a ship as any
other skilled workman would wait for a
job. The boarding master used to encour
age Jack to drink up his money as fast
as he could and then take what he had
trusted ld m for out Of his advance wages
when he got a ship. Today there are no
advanced wages allowed, and Jack. In
stead of drinking up his money in a
hurry, is rather inclined to be careful of
his currency while he is without a ship.
He likes to be able to Dick and choose
when he takes to the sea once more, so
that he need not take the first ship the
boarding master told him to.’
Boarding masters are not all as perfect
as they should be today, and the modern
Jackey simetimes will forget his shrewd
ness. But with the close supervision
which is kept over sailors' boarding
houses now, and the many societies which
stand ready to aid the sailor, the toiler
of the sea. Is ‘‘on easy street” compared
with those of his kind who lived before
him. One society even will furnish him
with free legal advice if he thinks he is
being wronged. So Jack ashore today is
not the Jack ashore of tradition, though
in all his essential characteristics he !s
still a different being from the man whose
home is on the shore—a being for whom
the oceans were established—
f
“That those who have no pleasure to
serve the Lord by measure
May enter into galleons and serve Him
on the sea.**
know that many of them lead happy, as
well as useful lives. History abounds in
examples of poor, though cultured w r o-
man, who in their log cabins have borne
and reared our country’s most honored
sons. In memory of this, we revere
even “the dirt chimney” of your pen-
picture.
True, there are flippant girls with a
smattering of knowledge whe sneer at
such a life, but the really educated,
thoughtfiil woman would realize that her
“better surroundings” owed their origin
to “love in a cabin.” If necessary, such
a woman w'ould go and dwell in one In
the midst, not of monotonous roofs and
brick walls, but of picturesque hills and
valleys, and find “tongues In the trees,
books In the running brooks, and good In
everything.” CORINNA.
Talapoosa, Ga.
The Secret of It.
Dear friends, though I <am only a young
bachelor girl I venture to “speak out in
meetings.” and say that I believe the se
cret of unhappiness in marriage is that
the parties do not. before they marry,
study each other closely enough to find
out whether or not they are congenial.
I believe that congeniality (not similar
ity) In ideas, tastes and dispositions is the
foundaton of the only kind of love that
Is reliable in marriage—the love that en
dures—that stands the test of time and
misfortune. For this reason persons
should not be In any haste to marry.
They should wait long enough to be sure
of their suitability to each other. Then
the marriage relation would be perma
nent; there would be no desire for re
lease.
Many persons believe this, but unfortu
nately they do not follow up their belief
by practice. They delude themselves with
the hope that a worldly wise marriage
with a very shallow foundation of re
spect will result satisfactorily. Young
as I am, I have seen several of such
marriages—that proved very unhappy.
The parties were too proud and too
strict in their ideas to separate, but their
ll\^?s were a daily inquisiton. Love de-
lghts In self-sacrifice, but there is no
compensation in the unwilling sacrifice
made by a repentant wife or husband.
I have nothing to say to those who
scoff at the Idea of the existence of love.
For such persons, who have a stone in
place of a heart, a marriage of expedi
ency would do as well as any.
GEORGIA GIRL.
A Mother of Your Sons.
The discussions in the Household are
interesting and helpful. One subject
which is bting handled appeals to me as
of vital importance. I have one daugh
ter and four toys and have set the moral
standard as high for my boys as I have
for their sister, but I fear disappoint
ment because the boya must associate
with men Our boys should be cared
for aa tenderly as our girls and have the
aame example of charity and modesty
set for them. We may do this in our
homes, but when they come in contact
with men the home teaching is thrown to
the wind. Men ought to be as careful
of their conduct and conversation as
women are.
On account of the prevailing looseness
of manners and conversation of men be
tween each other the standard of moral
ity is lowered; and unless a woman re
fuse altogether to associate with men
and bring on herself the contempt, not
only of the opposite sex, but of her own,
she must necessarily look over many
things In men that otherwise she would
not permit.
I know men who are honest, truthful,
generous, kind-hearted and perfectly re
liable in their business relations, but are
not ashamed to boast of their immorality
to men and are not censured by the
hearers. We women admire tihelr manly
traits, but cannot know of their baser
nature. Consequently we are often criti
cised for the tolerance of a vice that we
do not know to exist.
I have always censured a woman more
for falling than the man, because women
should live above temptation. She can
cary herself on such a high plane that no
thought of evil will be associated with
her. The character of a good woman is
a greater security to her .than stone
walls and cannon. Men do not even
make improper allusions in the presence
of women unless they think they will be
understood. Dear girls, cultivate a pure
mind and heart and you need not fear
men. They will prove true, staunch
friends. Follow the straight, narrow
path (and you need not be prim or
goody-goedy to do so) and no man will
venture beyond the borders of respect and
courtesy. God gave the same law to
man as to woman, and the same power
to each to keep the law. But he taught
us forbearance and forgiveness, and we
must not be too severe on the erring, but
help the weak to be strong.
I have son ething to say about the
kind of men and women who can safely
be close friends; also something about
the advantage In health and pure fun of
being brought up on a farm, but I will
say these at another visit, and bid our
hostess and frfends goodby for today.
JULIA THOMPSON.
One Young Wife’s Experience.
I am afraid our gifted Mater doesn’t
greatly value the opinions of very young
wives, yet I venture to have a little say
in the discussion as* to early marriages.
Speaking generally, I am not in favor of
very early marriages. Twenty Is young
enough for the girl, if her lover be sev
eral years her^ senior. She has then at
least three years after school days are
over to be like \unto the “Colonel’s., dear
“home girl,” akd tw enjoy the girlish j
pleasures so deal to her heart and which j
will enrich theLmemories of her after
years.
A year and a
old bride. My hiljband, though my class
mate at gradual
\lf ago I was a 17-year-
jn, is ten years older
than I, and quite an experienced man. I
knew nothing practically of household
duties, but had them thrown entirely
upon me after marriage. Of course, there
were trials and tears, but I worked with
a good deal of patience; my husband had
more, and all is running smoothly at
present, but I do not think a husband
nearer my own age would have been so
patient. My experience makes me very
positive In believing that mothers should
have their daughters help theim In all
house work. Some foolishly fond mathers
simply will not teach their daughters to
cook and keep house, for fear they will
be made to do these after marriage, as
If not learning to do house work would
keep them from having it to do.
Lomencita’s pen picture of the San
Marcos river was beautiful. I wish more
of the Householders would give us
glimpses of their surroundings and their
daily lives. It would help us to get bet
ter acquinted. If I gain admittance I
will tell you a little story (similar to In
cognita’s) that has come within my ob
servation. EULALIE.
Georgia.
It Was Not Fair.
I had been waiting for some on© to
say something about Plucky's note to
the Household, but was rather surprised
to find that it had been a source of in
spiration to Topaz.
I am sure Plucky is a woman or a
school girl, for a man would never have
told on Doctor.
In the “Talks to Girls” of a popular
monthly some time ago that lovable
woman, Margaret E. Sangster, advised
one questioner not to pry Into the “real
life” of successful actors; to be satisfied
to have the glamour of the footlights
shed over them, “for,” she added, “It is
always a disappointment to peep behind
the scenes.”
As Hope says. Doctor is bright and
spicy and we enjoy his writings to the
uttermost, but what makes them spicy?—
his boasted lack of sentiment, chiefly.
And here comes Plucky to draw back
the curtain and let us see strong, un
emotional Doctor weeping over a beloved
pet. I would hardly be a woman had
I not enjoyed Plucky’s little revelation;
we all did, but Doctor had not chosen
to show us that side of his nature and
—weli,. was it exactly fair, Plucky? I
am listening intently to hear that discus
sion which Old Maid has opened. I am
particularly interested in it.
Ike, suppose you tell us what you
think of “Pride v. Love?”
KIT A.
Nashville, Tenn.
The Story of a Prize Story.
“Well, now is that prize story?" my
husband inquired one morning at break
fast. some time after I confided to him
that I meant to enter the contest.
“O, dear,” I answered. In a tone of
despondency, “it Is all written but the
last section, and I counted the word,
last night and It la already .Uty-flvo tit- |
yond the limit. I’m sure I don’t know
what to do "
"Why didn’t you count as you went
along?"
Now, don’t teen ask foolish questions!
Of course I did, but evtdeiwly made a
mistake some where and unconsciously
slipped over the limit, with the final
8till unwritten.
"O, I’d give It up," he remarked en
couragingly, seizing a newspaper and
racing with our little two-year-oid to
the swing on the front porch. .
It seemed a difficult problem, indeed,
but next morning at breakfast I triumph
antly reported that I had "cut out” seven
hundred and sixty-five words out of
which to construct that annoying last
section. For several nights I wrestled
heroically with my tendency to extrava
gantly color the word-picture I was
sketching. But when it was finished,
after another tedious count, lo. It was
two hundred words beyond the limit,
and, positively, not a sentence that could
be crowded out (as I thought). In sheer
desperation I asked the editor if it would
be possible to allow me to enter the story
two hundred words In excess of the six
thousand limit. Of course, he very justly
answered "No.” The manuscript was
finished, copied, punctuated, and all, and
only three days until it must be on its
Journey. Discouraged I was to be sure,
but it never occurred to me to turn back
when once I had begun to climb the hill.
Perhaps It was because I had just read
"Over the Hilltop Lies Success."
That night when the hands of the clock
pointed to 9:30, and. after having sung
myself hoarse, and rocked my tired frame
almost Into a nervous frenzy. I tucked
my two little darlings Into bed. pulled
down the shades, and tip-toed back to
the dining room.
Seizing the neatly written manuscript
and a blue pencil, I begun the work of
destruction. Many a cherished adjective
died a hard death. I never realized until
then how many words lust an ordinary
sentence could devour. When I blew out
my lamp at 11:30 my story seemed like
a mutilated rose bush robbed of its choic
est buds, but I gathered my precious hoy
to my bosom and fell asleep with the
exultation of a conqueror.
Of course, It had to be recopied. But
this time my husband came to my aid
with a borrowed typewriter that could be
spared but one day. A friend was to
bring It out the following afternoon. The
friend promptly forgot all about the ma
chine, and after telephoning here, yon
der and everywhere I succeeded in getting
a "gentleman of color" to go and get
it for a fee of 25 cents.
That evening when the lamp had been
lighted and the shades lowered I brought
out two tiny night gowns, fondly noping
that their wearers might be coaxed to
bed an hour eiu*Uer than usual. Alas for
my anticipations! After an hour's hard
soloing the "yellow head of my little Alar-
tine peeped over the edge of the go-cart
and demanded that I cut her some paper
dolls. The sound of her voice roused up
my son and heir, who had just begun to
doze on my iap. He sat up as straight
as his four months of age would allow,
stuck one little chubby fist in his mouth
and opened his big hazel eyes so wffle that
I. almost despaired of his ever reaching
by-lo-land.
I grasped the handle-bar of the go-cart,
pressed the yellow head down among the
pillows, promising Innumerable paper
dollies In the morning, nestled the little
dark-haired boy against my arm and be
gan rocking and rolling the go-cart with
my free hand.
However, it was almost 10 o'clock before
I sat down to the typewriter, with the
thought that "half of it, at least, must
be copied tonight.” Over the Keyboard
my fingers new, picking out the words
of an old practice sentence to limber up
my hands before 1 began in earnest. Was
it neat, clear type? I wondered, glancing
at the line I thought I had written. A few '
halves of letters scattered here and there I
was all that met my astonished gaze. I '
went heroically to work to find the “root j
of evil.” At last, when the perspiration
stcod in drops upon my forehead I found
two empty screw holes. Then I surren
dered and sank down by the table to
think it over. "Tomorrow and tomorrow
night,” I repeated, and wondered if I
could possibly copy it with a pen in that
length or time and attend to my numer
ous household duties. I wavered but a
moment, then went In search of my pen
tray. Empty, of course, and I had al
ready thrown away the point T had be»n
using. O, what should I do! Then I sud
denly remembered a "stub” I had noticed
In a drawer After tossing towels and
pillow cases about I round it and dashed
off a word or two.
It looked ag though I had tried to write
trftli a stick. I sat very still and sober
for a while, thinking, oh, for a pen! A
kingdom for a pen!
Ah, I have It! Among my husband’s
batchelor trifles Is a pen—a pretty gold
pen, the gift of some fair friend, but
with what tender sentiments I did not
know, neither did I care, If it would only
write.
But it too was hopeless, and at 11:30
o’clock I gathered up my discarded pens
and went to the telephone, intendfng to
ask my husband (he is a servant of a
great railway company and his day is
my night) to bring me some pens when
he came home next morning. No one an
swers! I supposed he is not in his office
and the operator was dozing. In despair
I went to bed to dream, when at last I
got to sleep, of tomorrow and tomorrow
night, and to wonder if I could recopy the
manuscript.
"Oh, maybe I can fix the typewriter,”
cheerily replied the best of husbands next
morning after I had related my trying
experience of the night before. I shoua
my head dubiously and ate breakfast in
silence.
While I was clearing the table he got
the butcher knife, a pair of ticket
"punchers,” an old file and two screws
about twice the size of the empty hole*,
and went into his bedroom and shut the
door.
"You'll never fix it," I said, twisting my
head as I'stood at the door leaning des :
What Goes Up f
MIST COJLE DOWN.
Notning is more certain tnat tnat tha
use ot so-called tonics, stimulants an**
medicines, wmen depend upon uiconol lop
their effect, is injurious health in th«i
long run. '
W hat goes up must come down ana tmi
eievauon ot spirits, the temporary ex*
hilaration resulting trom a dose ot niedi*
cme containing aiconol, will certainly o©
followed in a xew hours Dy a correspond
ing depression to relieve wnicn another
tiose must be caKen.
In other words, many liquid patent med
icines derive tneir effect entirely irom tne
alcohol they contain.
Alcohol, and medicines containing it,
are temporary stimulants and not, m any
sense, a true tonic, in tact, it is doubt
ful if any medicines or drug is a real
tonic.
A true tonic is someChing which will
renew, repie.nsn, build up tne exhausted
nervous system and wasted tissues of the
body, something that will enrich the
blood and endow jt with tne proper pro
portions of red and white corpuscles
v. hich prevent or destroy disease germs.
This is what a real tonic should do and
no drug or alconolic stimulant will do it.
The only true tonic in nature is whole
some rood, tnorougniy digested. Every
particle of nervous energy, every minute
muscle, fiber and drop of blood is creat
ed daily from tne rood we digest.
Tfie mere eating of food nas little to da
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perfect digestion of the food eaten has
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The reason so lew people have perfect
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To cure indigestion and stomach trou
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some harmless preparation wmch will
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probably the best preparation of tma
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Stuart's Dyspepsia Tablets are equally
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I SI7FFEF PO TKR'Hitl.Y FROM
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free. A. A. KAHN, 14 Stale St., Chicago.
UATIICD6 YOUR CHILDREN
fflU I nCIlU Curedof lied-Wetting
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NOTIONS FOR HOKE TRADE
By which you can earn an income at home. V e
send you by mail, free, $2.00 worth of notions at a
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piece of mechanism and can’t Just be
nailed together.
He laughed, pushed me gently from the
room and again bolted the door. I went
about my housework, feeling as sure he
could not repair it as if he had under
taken to construct an air ship. He
would emerge from his quarters now
and then in quest of more material and I
would treat him to such remarks as'
"Oh, you’re Just wasting your time! I’d
much rather you’d lie down and rest!”
eta
I won’t go into details. Suffice to say
he did accomplish the task I had con
sidered hopeless, and I Joyfully gave him
an extra kiss when I smoothed out his
pillows and bade him "goodday.”
I did not find time to begin copying
until afternoon, and then the baby seem
ed to wake up every five minutes. Little
Martine would stand by my chair with a
newspaper and the "sciddes,” begging for
"des lots o’ dollies,” or come with her
little parasol and want me to "squeeze
it, mamma, squeeze it.” (shut it). Two
young ladies saw me writing at the win-
daw. and just came over to see the
typewriter. Then the baby decided that
he wouldn’t sleep any more at all. I
took him in my lap. tucked my left arm
around him. and was surprised to find
how well I could write by just using
my wrist. That didn’t work very long, so
I tried to rock him to sleep again. M'ar-
tine strained up to the table and could
Just touch the keyboard. "Let me hit
'em, mamma?” and before I could run
around the gocart she banged away and
made two odd letters in the middle of the
page I vadcopying.
But this "o'er true tale" Is getting en
tirely too long. Suffice it to say that
after trials apd tribulations I finished
the manuscript that night at 11:30. And
as I took down my hair and wound the
clock I fancied I heard a voice whisper,
'Over the hilltops lies success."
Hillsboro. Tex. ELLYS.
"By the Light of the Harvest Moon.”
Many months have passed away since
I last wrote of the Household. I hope I
am not forgotten. The harvest moon is
shining In my room as I write, and it
carries my thoughts back to the home of
my childhood. When a child I used to
love to follow my father to the fields
at night and watch the negroes tie up
the fodder bv the light of the same har
vest moon that Is shining so brightly to-
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Brevard, N. C.
niffht I was a great Tom boy in thoi#
days. I liked nothing better than to,
help catch the sheep when shearing time;
came. I remember how I used to hidei
my face when my father cut the little}
lambs’ tails off and clipped their ears}
with our mark so as to know them fronij
our neighbors’ sheep. I left home eight*
years ago, but it seems a century. II
think our childhood the happiest part-
of our lives.
“Oh, I would I were a child again
When life seemed fond of sunny dreamt.
When all this heart knew of fears ^
Was w'ept away in transient tears.
I believe children have trouble as well
as grow’n people, but it is soon wept
away in a few passionate tears.
Doctor, you remind me of Dr. Hart
well,-in “Beulah.” Mrs. Wilson s first
successful novel. I hope you will change
your religious views, as he did, when you,
marry your Beulah or whatever her name
may be. Yours faithfully.
•MARIES.
Lincolnton, N. C.
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