Newspaper Page Text
Be Courteous to
Your Elders
Ey Beatrice Fairfax.
===y OT long ago I sat in the reception rcom of one of the big
’ hotels waiting for a friend.
! N Presently a- young woman and her mother came in and
! : took seats near me,
1-— - The daughter was a bright-faced, sweet-looking girl and
‘ '\P the mother was the dearcst little old lady you ever saw.
; Anything more beautiful and thoughtful than the daugh-
L ==l ter's manner toward her mother 1 have rarely witnessed.
5 She brought a comfortable chair for her, put a cushion
at her back, saw that her back was toward the light, every once in awhile
giving her hand a loving little pat and saying, “Are you perfectly comfortable,
dear—are you enjoying yourself?”’ They made a pretty picture,
A little while afterward I saw another mother and daughter in the same
hotel, but, oh, how different they were from the first couple. i
*The mother was a sad-faced, patient-looking woman, who looked as
though she had never had a good time or any petting in her life.
That the daughter evidentiy looked on her as rather a nuisance was shown
by the Impatient manner in which ghe answered any questions her mother put
to her,
Presently some young friends joined them., The mother stood patiently
by until her daughter saw fit to introduce her, which she did in a negligent,
disrespectful way, 4
The contrast between the first and second mother and daughter was so
great as to be painful,
There is nothing that shows a young person up in such a bad light as
disrespect to an older person,
If that person happens to be her mother or father is is doubly dis
&’raceful. .
When you see a young man or young womarf comfortably seated while an
older person stands or hear them address an older person rudely you may
be sure that they do not amount to much,
As far as your mother is concerned you never can do enough for her,
All that's good in you you owe to her love and care.
If girls would only learn so be more friendly and confidential with their
mothers it would be an excellent thing for them.
It would save them from many blunders and heartaches.
850 tuany girls look on their mothers as too old to be interested in fun of
any kind. And that is just where the girls make a great mistake, for the
mothers would Tove to join in the fun and gaiety if any one were thoughtful
enough to ask them to.
If you treat your parents disrespectfully your friends will do the same.
There is just one thing to e said in defence of the disrespectful child,
and that is that the parents are to blame in the beginning.
If a child in its younger days is allowed to go uncorrected for disobed
fence, impertinence and wilfulness, i. is pretty sure to grow into o self-willed,
disrespectful boy or girl. ;
The greatest wrong that parents can do their children is to spoil and in
dulge them. : :
/ They will grow into selfish men and women, and the parents will be the
first ones to rean the benefit of their foolish training,
: Treat your elders with courtesy and respect and your mother with the
tender love and homaz_e that is hers by right.—New York Journal,
t How Carnegie Has ]
Wasted $12,000,000
ie e WA
‘ : By Richard T. Crane, JSr., " .
‘ Millionaire Manufacturer of Chicago.
Cr vt o ’ Y ottt
R Tp— HY do men like Carnegie and Armour put their money into
B the technical schools, when their money was made by men
o | w who had no sueh education? Look at the inconsistencies
,’ | between what Mr. Carnegie says and what he does.
e I quote from Mr. Carnegie's “Empire of Business,” the
£ o . | chapter headed “How to Win Fortunes,” written by Mr. Car
<4 ] negie five years ago:
“But the almost total absence of the technical school
graduate from high positions in the business world seems
- to justify the conclusion that college education as it exists seems almost fatal
lo success in the business domain. The poor clerk and mechanic is the one
- who rules.”
Now, after all these illustrations, based on his own experience and ob
cservation, in favor of practical men against technical men—against the grad
« uate—Mr. Carnegie enters into the fleld of pure speculation and backs his
. fancy to the extent of a $12,000,000 technical institute. ‘This is only a whim
of Mr. Carnegie’'s, He might take his $12,000,000, add $12,000,000 to it and
- throw the whole into the ocean, and this country would be better off. Is it
for the begefit of the publi¢ to turn out men who will be distanced by clerks
_and mechanics? Has he taken the sound business course? I would call his
_ Institute the Carnegie Twelve Million Dollar Blunder.
B Now, I wish to say that I give Mr. Carnegie a chance to answer this
. attack, 1 wrote him a letter and told him what 1 was going to do and asked
him four questions. 1 agreed to read his answers,but I have had no response
* from him. These were the questions I asked him:
¥ Do you owe your success in business to the technically educated men in
your employ or to those not so educated?
G If you owe your success to the technical men what is the proportion of
© these men in your employ to the men not so educated?
4 Havé you observed in your business life that technically educated men
© are more successful than those not so educated?
¥ The best education is long experience and observation in an up-to-date
v:faiwry." He continued: *“Four years in the shop is the training to get.”
) All an apprentice needs is to understurd English, be able to write and do
. Plain arithmetic and draw. He can get this at the night school or at home,
Abolish Shut-up Rooms
g A 3 .
By Mrs. G. Taylor Brown. %
HERE are homes, especially among the farm homes, whose
parlors are closed rooms to the family except during the
I, . spring and autnmn cleaning time. Then curtains are raised
- | and cobwebs swept down, and the rooms are shut up again,
e Children from such homes, unused to the furniture and best
things in the house, show it very plainly when in other par
‘ lors. Now, parents, we shall go this way but once. Our
= children will soon be grown and out from the home. [ would
3 prefer to sée the carpet faded near the windows rather than
eaten by moths in the dark. Three'years ago a teacher was living in our
Tamily, aud he organized a social purity club, meeting one evening in a week.
There were fifteen or sixteen. members in it. The house was all open, and
such guod times as they had! True, some mud was brought in. It was some
work to sweep and dust after, but it paid. Let us give them pleasant remem
brances of a sweet, cherry home that they can treasure through life. Light
up all rooms. Invite in a few of the little ones to spend an evening. Lay
aside the work you are doing. There is time enough for that. Play the sim
ple games, pop the corn. Never mind a little scattered. Never mind the
little feet that lightly. mar the chairs. This is a trifle compared to keeping
our children in the home instead of seeking pleasure in places we do not
know. So open the rooms and make bright and happy the lives God has given
to your keeping, and if no little ones dwell under your roof invite some to
make you young and happy again yourself. Surely it will do it, and we ega
not take our furniture and carpets with us when we leave this earth. Let us
~ Wear them out in making some one happy here and now. No closed parlors
M?fl!clm rooms for me.—From The New York Tribune Farmer,
4 LITTLE FELIOW'S TIMFE.
“When you were little mg&f@i
A little fellow's Lime? = "=
That is—l mean—a gngpviu" swing
, And gnarly frees to climb,
And awkward-legged calves 1o chase,
And yellow chicks to hold. ; "?-
And an old. hissing gander. too, .
To scare you stifi :nd cold? '
Say, did you have a little Jamb,
And colt, all for vour own. 3
And an ald cow's sleek sides Lo stroke,
And an old bowider-stone
Beside the kitchen ooy wwhereon
You, a wee yellow-head, ;
Were wont to st and swing vour heels
And eat your ‘lusses bread ?
And was there, too. an old ray mare,
A “Dobbin™ or a “Kit.,”
On whose broad hack, with daddy’s help,
Yon used sometimes to sit
And 'ride away down to the creek—
Iy which she used to wade
Am{ thrust her noge until you screamed,
It made you so afraid?
A mother and grandmather, too?
A grandpop and a dard %
To take you with them to the fields
And woods and make vou glad
With goblin stories, told g 0 deep,
You didn’t eare to eheep:
And nights did they just fairly fuss
To smuggle vou to sleep”
0. meadows, fields and wooded ways,
And creeks of long azo!
O, awkward calves, and hissing geese,
And cows that used {o Jow!
What -pleasant memories ve make
When age bows down the head
Of him who., just a kilfed habe,
There ate his ’lasses hread!
~—dJ. M. Lewis, in Houston Post.
A STORY OF THE DEAD-ROOM.
“I presume, doctor, there are many
sorrowful gcenes whioh present them
selves in your profession,” T remarked
to the surgeon of our reziment, ag I
spent an evening in his tent, while
Wwe were in camp,
“Yes, indeed,” he replied, with an
air of nonchalance. “But, then, cap
tain, you are a soldier, and you know
how a fellow will get used to most
anything. You do not shudder now
at seeing dead men lying around loose
as you used to do, do you?”
“Well, no,” I replied, “that is too
true.”
“I remember one incident in my
life, when a student of medicine in
a_ New York college,” continued the
doctor, “that has never heen erased
from my memory. It is full a quar
ter of a century since it occurred, and
yet I remember it well. I would to
Heaven it could pass from my mind.
“‘War is full of horrors,”” continued
the doctor, “and I have been in hos
pitals where the shrie:;s of the
wournded and the groans the dyf‘ng
mingled, and went about my Husi
ness almost as the weaver listens to
the sound of his looms. But this is
.a story of the dead-room, where t‘hp
sound is heard but the sharpening of
the scalpel and the almost noiseless
tread of the surgeon. .
“Among the professorg i 1 the med
fcal college at i{hat time was Dr. F—,
-an English surgeon. He was a man
of brilliant attainments, both as a
scholar and as a surgeon.
“He was probably sixty vears of
age, and had no family, ai least he
never spoke of one. Why he left his
native land, and why he hardly ever
smiled, no one seemed to know, and |
probably no one cared to ask. We,
as students, paid our money for a
kno vledge of medicine and surgery,
and did not trouble ourselves about
the history of those who taught us. |
“The winter season of lectures had
commenced, and students from nearly |
every section of the United States
were in the city to attend them. Sub
jects for dissection were required,
and sometimes, iike other articles in
the market, the supply exceeded the
demand, and at other times the dead
room was short. Body-snatchers
were employed at the current rates,‘
and were paid for the bodies fur
nished by the law of supply and de
.mand. Subjects were scarce and in
demand the winter I have named, and ‘
prices rose accordingly.
“I happened in the English profes
sor's room one morning to examine a
medical work that required my at-J
tention, A gentle rap came on the‘
door, and the doector said, ‘Walk i |
“1 knew the visitor and his calling
at a glance. His soulless eyes glanced
cautiously around the room, and then
he asked, in a whisper:
* ‘All right, doctor?’ |
“‘Yes; one of my students,” re
plied the surgeon.
" “Have a fresh stiff, doctor. Found
it floating in the harbor at daylight
this morning. Female, about fifty,
and good form. From an English{
vessel, no doubt.’
" “What is the price?’ asked the
surgeon. ¢ ‘
* ‘Cannot deliver it at the college
for less than a hundred,’ was the re
ply. |
* ‘Too much,” answered tha sur
geon. ‘You are above:the market.’ |
" ‘Sorry we cannot agree,' said thel
man, with a scoWwl; ‘but the fact is,
doctor, no class of individuals takes!
such risks and work as hard for our
money as us fellers, and mostly for
the benefit of science.’ . .
“He was about to depart when the
surgeon called him back.
“ ‘Make it seventy-five and vou can
bring the subject.’
* ‘Sorry, doctor, but I can't. You
see, Jim and I is in partnership in
this stiff, as he happened in the boat
with me, and when We come to divide
the matter it will be oniy fifty each.
We honestly earned every cent we
ask.’ 3
* ‘Well,” replied the surgeon, ‘brtnti
the subject to the dead-room to-night, .
and your price shall be paid.’ 1
_ “The following Gay the professor
announced in his morning iecture
that a fine female suliject had been
obtained, and that in the afternoon
he should dissect it in their presenca
and for their benefit in the science of
obstetries, A full class and a careful
hearing were demanded.
“The subject hal been placed on
the dissecting table in the dead-room,
and a white sheet carefully secured
it from view., A full class was in
attendance at the afternoon exer
cises.,
“The professor dwelt with warmth
upon this delicate branch of medical
gcience, and said the theme was pro
found and in part reveaied the won
der of our creation.
“Stepping from the plaiform with
scelpel in hand, he then advanced to
the table, removed the sheet from
the corpse, and while gazing on the
face of the dead woman, the color
left his cheeks, the scalpel shook in
his hand, he gasped for breath, and
said:
“* “Jane! Jane! Great Heaven, it is
Jane!’ and fell in my arms.
“Restoratives were applied to his
bloodless lips, and when he had re
covered sufficiently to speak, he said:
‘“ ‘Gentlemen, I am ill. There will
be no dissection this afternoon. Leave
the room. To-morrow meet me at
the usual hour.’
“What became of ihe dead body we
never learned. It was removed that
nigbt—by whom-and where to was
never known by us. The surgeon also
disappeared that night, and never en
tered the college again. What be
came of him always remained a mys
tery. He may have departed for
Europe in the morning upon some
vessel leayving port, or he may have
comitted suicide. A body resembling
the doctor was found floating in the
East River some weeks after, but it
was too much decomposed for identi
fication.
“The mystery connected with the
dead-room never was fully explained.
Rumor had it, but it was never fully
confirmed, that the doctor's wife had
deserted him in England many years
previous to this event, and ran away
with a British sea captain, and that
the doctor came to America under an
assumed name. Being a skillful sur
geon, he readily attained the honored
rank he held. 3
“How the woman met her untimely
death no one ever knew. Her para
mour may have grown tired of her,
as is the general result, and she may
have welcomed death in a watery
grave, or she may have accidentally
fallen from the ship’s deck. That
she was the doctor’s wife there can be
no doubt. '
“Now captain;” continued the doc
tor, “I have told you the story of the
dead-room. The mystery connected
with the affair can only be left to
conjegture.”——New York Weekly,
A Profitable Crop
. « in the Northwest
By A. E. DICKEY.
The second factor making for the
new prosperity may be termed ‘‘the
discovery of flax.” lor years there
had been a few scattered flax fields,
but it was only in the middle nine
ties that the Northwestern pioneer
awoke to the discovery that linseed
oil was of a more truly golden hue,
not only than the wheat field, but
than any gold-bearing quartz Cali
fornia ever saw. And so the endless
golden yellow of the fields of wheat
gave place to the blue flowers in
August and the tinkling bells in Sep
tember of the flax field.
Those who have never heard the
ringing of the flax bells have missed
a truly wonderful sensatlon. The
round seed pods, smaller than peas,
which contain the seed, givé a faint
metallic sound which as one drives
or walks through a field, setting
thousands in motion, seems like my
riads of infinitesimal hells tinkling so
faintly as to be all but inaudible. Nor
is the mere sight of a flax field in the
mellow August soon to be forgotten.
Jmagine a hundred-acre field, filled
with flowers of a blue more delicate
than violets. And of its profitable
character one illustration will suf
fice, In June, 1900, Ole Jansen
bought a hundred and sisty acres in
the heart of the great flax belt for
$lO an acre on the crop payvment
plan. Ole “‘broke up” that fall and
the next spring a hundred and thirty
five acres and planted it in flax. In
round numbers, he threshed in the
fall eighteen and one-half bushels
to. the acre; sold it for $1.391% a
buishel; total, §3500; a little more
than twice enough to pay for his
land out of his first crop. Not only
was the flax immensely profitable it
self but it removed from the coun
try the stigma, ““one crop country,”
—From The World Tc-Day.
! Niagara's Age,
This question, always interesting
for the light it throws on the past
history of the earth, has had .many
answers. The latest is that of Dr. J.
W. Spencer, who, from recent studies
on the spot, finds that the mean rate
of recession of the falls at present is
4.2 feet per year, and that this has
been the rate for approximately 227
years. But owing to the fact that
originally the waters of Lake Erie
only were discharged over the falls,
giting but one-fifteenth of the present
water supply, the rate of recession
was at first much slower. A sudden
widening of the gorge over Faster's
Flat indicates the position of the
falls when the other Great Lakes be
gan to discharge into Lake Erie,
From his data Dr. Spencer calculates
the entire age of the falls at 39,000
years. The cutting, with the full
power of the four lakes, is estimated
lto ‘have lasted 3500 years.—Youth’s
Companion, ; ,
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P =R ,9}‘,3@s‘. . » 5
Motherhood.
The new movement for the teach
ing of motherhodd is one which ap
peals alike to the humanitarian, to
the biologist, the physician and the
patriot.—Lady’s Realm.
The Favorite Girl,
She is the girl who is not “too
bright and too good” to be able to
find joy and pleasure all over the
world.
She is the girl who appreciates the
fact that: she can not always have the
first choice of everythingin the world.
She is the girl who is not aggres
sive and does not find joy in inciting
aggressive people.
She is the girl who has tact enough
not to say the very thing that will
cause the skeleton in her friend's
closet to rattle his bones. *
She is the girl who, whether it is
warm or cold, clear or stormy, finds
no fault with the weather.
She is the girl who when vou in
vite her to any place compliments you
by looking her best.
She is the girl who makes this
world a pleasant place becanse she is
SO pleasant herself. — Indianapolis
News,
Coeds as Nurses.
At the University of Washington
some of the coeds have been earning
money- by taking care of the faculty
babies. THese are the children of
members of the faculties, whose wives
occasionally want to get away from
the cares of home life. Many of the
girls have found it possible to earn
money this way.
“It isn't much trouble,” said one
of them. “If you can get a well be
haved child to take care of you can
manage to do some studying even
while seeing that the children are
amused. Of course some of them
don’t give you time to do that.” 1
‘Washington is the same institution
where it was arranged recently to
have rowing and track athletics for
the women students under the direc
tion of the regular athletic trainer
who has charge of the men. Outside
of Sage College, at Cornell, and Wel
lesley there are no women'’s colleges
thtat go in strong for rowing.—New
York Sun.
Missouri Woman a Deer Slayer.
Mrs. Winifred Witt, Linn County’s
oldest inhabitant, is ninety-eight
years old. One day in the early for
ties Mrs. Witt was engaged in wash
ing on the banks of the Grand River,
as was the custom of the early set
tlers, when the baying of a pack of
hounds thd her that they were close
on their prey and coming in her di
rection.
She was standing near a ford on
the river bank, used by man and
beast, and not knowing the character
of the game, she hastily armed her
self with a stout club and secreted
herself behind a large tree just as a
full grown deer camedashing through
the woods. Waiting until it had par
tially descended the steep bank, she
delivered a powerful blow from her
club at the base of the animal’s ant
lers and it dropped to the earth, and
before it could regain its feet the
dogs were upon it and bore it down
to rise no more.—Linn County Bud
get.
Lydia Languish Lives in Dozens.
“Horrors!” exclaimed one of ihe
breeziest little matrons in Manhattan
yesterday as she read a note from a
woman friend. ‘‘Something is hap
pening that I only half notice until
Elise, in this gossipy little serawl of
hers, sharpened its significance. Do
you know (impressively) the Lydia
Languish type is coming back? Fact!
All you have to do is to g 0 to the
opera for yourself or to drop in at
any fashionable affair. The type isn’t
noticeable so much among this sea
son’s debutantes, though the crop has
its sprinkling of it, as in the ranks of
former years. Names, of course, are
out of the question, for no girl would
consent to recognize herself in such
guise, yet the fact remains that the
lorg, lank, willowy, weepy, die-away
young woman of Sheridan’s satire is
as much alive to-day as she was in
the good old times when Bob Acres
blustered and paint,- powder and
patches were in style. Her fashion
is different, of course — she has
changed outwardly with the times—
but at heart and largely in manner
she’s the same. And, what's more, in
spite of all fhat's written and said
about the popularity of the athletic
girl, secretly the men adore the Lydia
Languish of the twentieth century as
devoutly-as their great-great-grand
daddies did her ladyship of their own
time. They fraternize with the nut
brown maid of the tennis court and
shooting range, but they give their
seuls’ devotion to languid Lydia—of
‘ten, indeed, even when they end by
making more sensible matches.”’—
New York Press.
Sweethearts and Eyes.
The group of friends stood admir
ingly before the latest picture by a
well-known illustrator, which oraa
mented the wall of the bachelor girl.
It represented an exceedingly athletic
young man in the act of engulfing a
fluffy-rufled young lady and -imprint
ing a passionate salute upon her~‘up
turned lips.
The young ladies gushed over it
with enthusiasm, while the men
agreed that it was very lifelike,
“There is one serious defect in the
picture,” announced the bachelor
girl, after the first outburst. ‘‘The
artist has made one serious mistake
at which I am surprised. Can any
one pick it out?”
All agreed that it seemed perfect.
“Don’t you see that the girl's eves
are open?”’ said the bachelor girl.
“What girl, I ask you, ever received
a real kiss, such as is portrayed here,
with her eyes not blissfully closed.
A woman always closes her eyes when
she is kissed by the man she is fond
of.
The women all agreed that the
criticism Was true, and said how
strange it was they hadn’t noticed
it, while the men glanced at each
other with looks which admitted their
own stupidity.
| “Now, as to whether the man's
eyes ought to be closed, I don’t know,
’as I have never noticed.”” And then
| the bachelor girl was suddenly over
' come with confusion as a chorus of
ldelighted shrieks and shouts arose
from the assemblage present.—New
!York Press. e
! v R
Some Latest French Styles.
Grace Margaret Gould, the fashion
expert, who has recently returned to
this country from Paris, writes in
Woman’s Home Companion:
} “Striped materials continue right
on being fashionable, and the woman
‘ who needs a gown and one which she
can wear for a long time to come need
‘ have no hesitancy in selecting a
striped silk or striped voile for her
gown.
| “In planning an evening costume
‘there are one or two things which it
;is wise that she bear in mind. The
first is, short-waist effects are the
vogue. Now, if she can have but one
evening. gown, it is better to select
something that is not too extreme.
'Let us take it for granted that she
‘doesn’t care for an Empire gown
such as fashionable women are wear
ing in Paris and New York to-day.
On the other hand, she doesn’t wish
to spend her money for a new evening
dress and not have it reflect in a
measure the new fashion tendencies.
“In this case et her try the high
Empire girdle, which will give her
gown the fashionable short-waisted
100%k.7 1 ¢ A
“Skirts are long and extremely,
close fitting over the hips. The trim
ming is all toward the foot. Evea
such filmy materials as tulle and chif
foe cloth are often made up with a
band of velvet at the bottom. Entre
deux of filet met strikingly embroid
ered in coarse silk flosses are the
fashion as skirt trimmings, and when
they are used in this way a touch of
the same embroidery is introduced
in the blouse.
“Veiled effects are very fashiona
ble, and the skirts of many of the
latest evening gowns show very lovely
changing effects. For example, a
skirt of pale blue chiffon will be made
up over a pale blue silk or satin foun
dation, but just to give it an unusual
little touch there will be other chiffon
skirt between the outer one and the
silk foundation, and this will not he
of blue.”
—— e 4 L;‘_;i"’, 3
Dress in Holland. ;
The women'’s costume is a trifle too
complex for verbal description, as
feminine belongings usually are; but
the white lace cap which coverg the
head from eyebrows to nape of neck
and from ear to ear, curving out in
rounded wings on each side of her
cheeks, is always a conspicuous and
inevitable portion of a woman's at
tire. It may possibly be that on Sun
day this cap is a trifle whiter or stiffer
or daintier than on week-days, but
the difference is not very apparent.
The ladies assure us there is a vast
difference in the quality of the net
and the amount of hand work em
ployed, but the lens made no special
note of that. In shape and outline
the eamera finds great distinction
between these caps and those of
Katwyk or Marken or Bois le Duc,
but between Sunday and Monday caps
in Volendam it records none what
ever. For the rest of the costume
feminine Holland asks above all
things, apparently, a very flat, narrow
chest surmounting enormous hips,
and Volendam is no exception to this
tashion rule. The invariable black
“best waist” of the elder women is
usually brightened by a square voke
of lighter color and material, and the
dark apron or overskirt is topped by
six inches or more of gay plaid or
bright-colored band, worn over an
underskirt of dull-blue striped or
black material and uncountable petti
coats. About the throat a collar
formed of many rows of heavy, dark
red coral heads is fastened by huge
silver clasps, and the number of rows,
the size and quality of the beads, are
matters for feminine pride. Long
hair is not the glory of woman in Hol
land, save, perhaps, at Marken. It
is usually hidden, and at Volendam is
cut quiie close and entirely covered
by a tight-fitting thick blac'- silk cap
concealed beneath the snowy white
lace. The younger girls, from the
tiniest toddler to the young meisje
old enough to wed, wear dresses and
caps the exact counterpart of their
grave mothers, no less full of skirt
or narrow of chest, but much gayer in
color. A group of tiny maidens in
a gtiff breeze on the dike resembles
notzing more than a swarm of but
terflies.—Scribner’s Magazine,
