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Is Love to be Dethroned ?
By H. B. Marriott-Watson, :
HE mondaine of New York and Newport will run after new dukes
' farmer will sit under mew pastors and buy new drugs.
g and buy new jewes. The sober wife of the sober New England
The American woman has perfected the cult of pleasure as
/[Jl\n/flfifl no living being in all the history of the world. A certain!fomi
N 2 n®2) mon bond unites the drab woman on her farm and the belle 0
Fifth avenue. :
That spirit i 3 visible in all classes of real Americanized women, whethei
in ‘.o daughter of the millionaire or in the factory hand. It is the spirit of
independence which finds its logical issue in ccld selfishness. The factory girls
refuse to be married and take up the burdens of maternity; they put their
savings upon their backs and “have a good time” .
The typical American woman is proverbially careless of the male of her
race, We Europeans see it every day in the case of our American visitors.
The American woman is set on getting the best she can for her money, or her
father’s money, or it may be her busband’s. She rides over man roughshod.
It is the era of the woman’s revenge, and apparently she is getting it. But in
the result it is achieved by a demoralization of sex, even by a debauch of sex.
The doctrine of the superiority of woman, or its analogue, the dominaunce of
woman, has resulted in a breach of the laws of maternity. Evasion of child
birth follows, and will follow, the passage of woman's rights and the higher
feminism. Even on the threshold of this great and delicate gquestion is one
stayed by the consciousness that the American woman has almed the first
great hlow at the reign of Love. So far as the eye of man can carry now,
American civilization, by the overthrow of Love and its potency, will have
inaugurated a new era fraught with portentious issues.
Having emerged from mere barbarism into an age of sentiment, are we to
complete the eycle by passing into a stage where considerations of personal
ambition, or vanity, or greed, or something material, rule the sexual relations?
We are, it would appear, on the thresho!d of the third era, in which Love is to
be faded into a sentiment so thin that it would not be rescognizable of our
sturdy fathers. That stage of.the cycle surely must speil decline, diminution
. 2.0 dogits
Woman's taste has been pervert=d by her appreciation of the gifts of man
as tributes to her beauty. A man will take a thing to eat or wear or use some
how, because, whether it is bad or geod, he likes it. A woman's possessions
are rather the fruit of her vanity than her taste. She acquires things not
because sh~ likes them or nezds them, but because they represent zelfs
esteem, gratification, the humiliation of rivals.
Th f Lif
e Lesson of Life.
By Agnes Repplier.
T IS to be hoped that all American boys and girls read the Sunday
newspapers. How else can they learn the really important
things of life, the things which it is wise and well for them to
Wl know? Where else will they be told that little William Vincent
6/4 Astor, aged thirteen, eats catmeal every morning for his break-
A S fast, and meat and vegetables “in sparing quantities” for ‘his
" dinner? That he bas a tutor, a valet, a groom, a chauffeur and
“a special hody guard’—whatever that may be—all engaged in looking
after him. That there is an “automatic street-sprinkier” among hig
toys. That his automobile cost twelve thousand dollars. That he is tall for
his age, and that his “chin is a spocial heritage from ‘'nis father.” How, save
through a Sunday paper, are young Americans to know that little Margaret
Carnegie, aged four, has her owa private kitcoen, “which is said to excel that
of any other residence in the world,” and that in it are prepared “splendid
banquets” for the Carnegie dolls? That she has ten rooms of her own, where
as Willie Astor has only five, and that sbe believes her father to be “the rich
est of mankind.” Whether she, too, has inherited a chin iz not mentioned.
We can but hope that on> may be found among her assets.
Here is food for thought. Let every little American boy say solemnly
to himself, when he eats his morning oatmeal: “Willje Astor eats oatmeal,
too.” Let every little American girl remember, when she gives her dolls a
tea-party, that Margaret Carnegie’s dolls sit down to ‘“‘Danquets,” cooked in
the most splendid kitchen in the werld. Above 21, let both boys and girls
ponder deeply over the sentence which describes young Astor’s tutor, grcom
and valet as “subjects of the embryonic monarch.” It is well that they should
realize early in life that a rich little boy is an embryoaic monareh whaose
tutor is.his subject, not his master. Thus will our children preserve those
ideals and that scern of ignoble things which make the greatness of a nation.
Thus will we foster that sturdy spirit of independence which gave us nationgl
life, and those civic virtues which alone can save us from decay.—-l.ife.
A @ ® E! 9
merican Wisdom Haripe.
; By President Willian H. P. Faunce, of
Brown University. .
s HE American Nation is regarded by impartial observers as agile‘
rather than profound in intellect. Whatever the goal, we arrive
there while other peoples are considering tow to start. Yet
4 we still stand outside the realm of ripened wisdom and assur-
E}@ ance and stable convicticn.
f ) The men of our time ‘have mobility and in};";nuity rather
than poise and dignity; they are more attached to expedients
than to principles, preferring action to thought; and our generation. so full
of life, and moevement, appears at times to be “bound nowiere under full sail.”
We are quick to respond and adapt truths which others have discovered.
We ‘have marvelous inventors, but few scientists of the first rank; excellent
writers of school bocks, few authoritics in education; admirable preachers,
few theologians whose voices are heard in Europe; skilful expositors of phil- |
osophy, no tlnpkers \}'ho rank with those of lands where thought has time
m.b:‘ood and ripen before action begins. Our age is strenuous to the breaking |
point. |
Another One of Whistler.
Anecdotes «©f Whistler are still
turning up. Europe from one end to
the cther hums with the dead Amer
ican painter's name. Whistler was
in Paris at the time of the corona
tion of the King of England, and
ove evening at a reception at the
Hotel Ritz a Duchess said to him:
“Do you know King Edward, Mr.
Whistler?” “No, madam,” said the
paipter. “Why, that is odd,” sne
murmured. “I met the King at a din
ner party last year and he said that
he knew you.” “Oh,” said Whistler,
“that was only his brag.”
) bl B :
AR DGET
Zetvw.OF
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A TREASURE TROVE.
"Tis sad to think of this great truth,
“There are no bird’s in last year’s
nest;”
But, oh, the gladness when one finds
A quarter in his last year’s vest!
—Houston Post.
—
A SPOKE IN HIS WHEEL.
“Really, I think it is very brave of
him to work the way he does, seeing
that his father is a millionaire.”
“Brave?’ he answered, jeaously no
ticing tte splendid arch of her instep.
“Nothing brave abeut trat. Why,
there’s more danger in riding a polo
pony ten minutes than there would ba
to work in that old bank for thirty
years."—Chicago Record-Herald.
THE BHAUGQHTY WEST.
“While over there,” announced the
returned tourist, “l saw them digging
up some of the oldest cities in the
world.”
“That’s nothing,” replied the De
troiter, throwing out his chest, “we
dig our city up every year.”—Detroit
Free Press.
THE CHICAGO CONSCIENCE.
Mrs. Holder—Why, John, why
aren’t you reading your evening
paper? ‘
Mr. Holder—On account of my con
science. I found an umbrella today,
and I'm afraid I'll see it advertised.—
Chicago News. _
REASON ENOUGH.
“What! Marry my daughter?”’ snort
ed old Gotrox. “Why, you must be
destitute of all reason—"
“Yes,” interrupted young Poorley,
with refreshing candor, “I admit that
I am destitute, but that very fact is
my reaszon.—Philadelphia Press.
DIE HARD.
“There are some songs that will
never die,” said the musical eatbu
siast.
“l guess that’s right,” answered Mr.
Cumrox. “My daughter sits down at
the piano and tries to kill a few of
’em every evening. Biit it’s no use.”—
Washington Siar.
SATISFIED EVERYEODY.
“Mr. Scrapem,” said the hostess to
an amateur viclinist at an evening
gathering, “you play the violin, do you
not?’
“Yes, after a fashion, you know,”
was the modsst reply.
“How nice!” murm=ured- half the
company,
“Dit vou bring your violin with
vou?”
Mo, | did net”
“Tiow nice!” murmured the other
half of the company in ferveat uni
son.—tialveston News.
SPOILING. A GOOD THING.
Mrs. Von Blumer—l eomplimented
youy husband yesterday on ‘nis skill
in taking care of the baby.
¥lrs. Dimpleton—Qh, dear, what did
you do that for? He thinks he is only
playing with him.—Life.
BY CONTRAST.
Tess—l don’t see why you shoulda't
associate with her,
Jess—Ooh, I couldn’t. She’s so hor
ribly homely, you know.
Tess—Well, then, if you went with
her it would make you look positively
good looking.—Philadelphia Press.
A GRAFT.
“Hello, Slouchy, in any regular busi
ness now?”
“Yep. I'm .gittin’ knocked over by
automobiles and cotrectin’ damages.
Best graft I ever had.”—Detroit Free
' Press, oy
t TIME ENOUGH.,
Migs Pepprey—She says you appear
to have a habit of telling all you know.
. Cholly—Fawney! Why, I nevah met
fer till lawst evening, and then only
for five minutes. :
Miss Pepprey—Well?—Philadelphia
Ledger. _
AN IMPOSSIBILITY.
~ “Y pbject to being called a ‘gay
Lothario,” said Mr. Bragg. “Of
course, I'm not engaged to any par
ticular girl, but—"
“Of course, you're not,” interrupted
Misa Shappe; “if she were particular,
you couldn’t be.”—Philadelphia Public
Ledger.
A CONFESSION. :
. The Wife—All my friends warned
me that you wouldn’t make me a good
husband. ;
The Husband—Then why did you
marry me—to reform me?
“No, dear; to prove that they were
wrong.”—Smart Set. :
WRONG REMEDY.
“Ig it true,” asksd the caller, “that
your husband ordered Dr. Smoother
out of the house?”
“Yes. Poor Jack had been carrying
the baby all night and every night for
a week, and was run down to a thread.
I called the doctor, and ‘he told Jack
that he must take exercise.””-—Detroit
Free Press.
PRINCIPLES, NOT MEN. :
Voter—l don’t see how I can sup
port Twister at the polls. He isn’t any
better than a thief, you know.
Politician—ln political matters, my
dear sir, we should consider princi
ples, not men.
Voter—But Twister hasn’t any prin
ciples. What do you say to that?
Politician—l say that in the heat of
the campaign it is unwise to befog the
situation by the introduction of pri
vate matters.—Boston Tranccript.,
THE REASON.
“Can you tell me,” said the seeker
after knowledge to the 3showman,
“what the hump on that camel’s back
is for?”
“What's it for?” ;
“Yes, of what value is it?”
“Well, it’s lots of value. The camel
would be no goed without it.””"
“Why not?”
“Wiy not? Yer den't suppose people
‘ud pay sixpence to sce a camel with
out a hump, do yer?’—London 'Tit
Bits.
. THE END.
“If old Skyaner doessn’t take back
what he said to me this morning, I'll
be hangsd if I'll work for him any
more.”
“Insulting; is he?”
“I should say so. He said he
thought he could get along without
me.”"—Philadelphia Public Ledger.
WILLING TO LISTEN.
Tess—She was bosating that she is
a very good listener,
Jess—Yes. She’s what you might
call a fluent listener. She loves to
hear herself talk.—Philadelphia Press.
NO SUMMER GIRL.
“Jibes, they tell me that daughter
of yours is a typical summer girl.”
“Jest like their fool gossip; she was
born January ’leven, 18——, but that’s
nobcdy’s business.”—Detroit Free
Press.
A SUBSTITUTE.
Witte—ls this your advertisement
in the paper: “Wanted—A good
strong mule to do a light drayman’s
work?”
Drayman—Yeg, that's mine. Why?
Witte—What's the matter? Are
you going on a vacation?—Philadel
ptia Public Ledger.