The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, June 24, 1900, Page 13, Image 13
WOMAN’S
WORLD.
The Rev. Jesse H. Jones writes in the
New York World on “The Secret of a
Happy Marriage,” as follows:
Who can describe in words that heav
enly time of young love, when the deep
est affections of life burst forth into their
perfumed blossoming and life is in its
springtime?
Why is it that this joy Is so transient
and so apt to fade and darken like the hues
of the sunset? Why do there come to some
the bitter frosts that cut love down or the
subtle poisons that destroy it, while oth
ers enjoy it until death?
These are serious and not merely senti
mental questions. Life is not all logic
and economics. The problem of securing
and retaining affection is fully as import
ant to the happiness of our homes as the
problem of securing wealth.
A separate individual is but half a life,
and happiness depends upon findnng the
other half who is the most perfectly suit
ed in mind and temperament.
There is perhaps for every person one
perfect mate, though it may be seldom
that such marriages occur. Practically
speaking, we can only hope to get as near
perfection as possible.
One secret of a happy marriage is (o re
tain, as far as may be, ihe spirit and
relations of courtship. Marriage should
never be considered the gateway to li
cense and selfishness.
Lover-love is the highest type of love
in the world. It is even higher and holier
than mother-love. It is tlie ripe and ra
tional affection of equals for each other.
The highest conception which Whitman
ha* of the civilization of the future is that
we shall have a “world of lovers.”
In every true marriage there should be
an element of devoutness. Nowhere is
flippancy more out of place than at the
marriage altar. We would have fewer di
vorces, because less need for them, if
every marriage were regarded as a pecu
liarly serious and solemn undertaking.
I was present once at a country wedding
which illustrates what I mean. The young
couple were plain, molest folk from the
farm, and appeared to be deeply impressed
as the ceremony proceeded. When the
minister reached the words, “Let us pray,”
they both turned around with a quick mo
tion and threw themselves upon their
knee*, bowing their heads upon the sofa,
•nd so remained to the end of the prayer.
It was the first Uase in which I ever
knew any one to kneel during the wed
ding prayer, except in a formal way, and
there was such intense earnestness and
devotion In their manner that every one
present was profoundly moved. It was
very evident thAt they dedicated them
selves to one another with their whole
hearts.
To the children born of love, in wedlock
that is kept holy in fact os well as name,
we must look for the elevation of the
race. There is no need of laws forbidding
certain people to marry, for it is a fact
that people who are very inferior may
have children far better than themselves
if they are drawn together by love and
obey the laws of their nobler natures.
But the chief scorer of a happy marriage
Is the following rule: Put the woman at
the head of the family instead of Ihe man.
If there is to be any ruling it is better to
have the women enthroned than the man.
More authority will make the woman
stronger and more service* will make man
gentler. No man can ever know the full
sweetness of love who insists upon being
the lord and master of his household.
The English common law says: “The
man and the woman are one, and that
one is the man.” This unjust and absurd
sentence has been the means of making
our homes little empires instead of little
republics.
I protest against any sort of imperialism
in the home. The highest marriage is that
which develops the liberty and self-hood
of the woman as well as the man.
Women should be the owners of them
selves as well after marriage as before.
All the immortality of the world centers
around the, submissiveness and practical
slavery of women.
Every woman should cultivate the sense
of self-ownership, for unless love is free
and pure it is not love. It is mere selfish
amativeness and nothing more.
The great need of our homes is not so
much for better mothers as for better
fathers. The man for whom the world
waits is he who will ascend into the high
est of hia manhood and live there: who
will be strong enough to climb the hights
of unselfish love. It is he who shall “love
as a maiden loveth," and by the culture
of liis own brain and heart attain to com
. plete self-mastery. In such a man the
passion* will not be extinguished, but con
trolled, arid his better self will be the Su
preme Court of his nature, from which
there can be no appeal.
There Is a clergyman in New Tork. says
the Times of that city, who. whenever
he has a chance to tell a siory. tells a
Dewey story. It concerns a small hoy in
his Sunday school and took place a lit
tle while ago. when the Admiral was a
more genera! subject of conversation than
he Is now. In the course of a talk the
minister had with his scholars one day
he had asked a general question:
"'What great deed did Dewey per
form ?”
That was an easy conundrum, for ft
contained the answer In itself, one small
boy in the school thought. When he
heard that word "deed," he knew' in a
moment that was the reply the minister
wanted, and he piped out shrilly:
"Deeded his house to his wife.”
There Is almost always a woman In
the esse and she docs not alw'ays get her
Just dues. When Mrs. Dewey lost a dia
mond pin in Detroit the other day all the
papers came out Immediately with the
story of the little boy who found It. But
It seems that there was a little girl.
I.lllian McGrath who saw the pin at the
same moment that the small boy did.
though the boy got to the pin first and
grabbed it. But it was little Lillian who
told the police and mode its return pos
sible. And she was amply rewarded. She
was one of the little patriots who were
wildly anxious to see the Admiral and
his wife. Ii did not look as if she was
going to have the chance, hut after the
finding of the p'n. word was sent that
she was to be taken to call on them at
their hotel, where she had a chance to
talk with Admiral and Mrs. Dewey for
at bast half an hour. Then the Admiral
Resented to Mrs. McGrath a JBO check,
with which to start a bank account for
Lillian, and better than that, t*e promis
ed lo send the little girl his autograph on
a photograph when he reached Washing
ton.
t
"I find ft an Interesting study In soci
ology.” remarked a clubman, to the New
Tork Tribune, recently, "to follow, step
by step, the rise of a successful parvenu.
Tfake the Clymbens, for Instance. I can
give you the history of their progress
from the very beginning, for I saw at once
that their methods would insure success.
I often make mental bets on the field.
I o„ those who are in the race for social
advancement, and I singled the Clymbers
out as sucoessful candidates several years
■go.
"When they came to New York from
one of the Western states ten years ago,
they did not know a soul, but Mr. C.'s
reputation os a business man was ex
cellent, and he found no difficulty in floal
irvg various schemes In which he was In
terested among men of known financial
position. X happened to have met him on
a business trip out West, and although of
no particular weight, either financially or
socially, he offered me the position of
director in one of his companies, which
I accepted, and It was owing to this cir
cumstance that I was enabled to watch
events.
"His wife was an extremely pretty
w'oman with no end of tact, and her first
success was with old Van Dttsen. presi
dent of the Bank, w ho was beguiled
Into dining with them by Clymber. on tin
pretence of talking over an important
business deal, but really for the sole pur
pose. I am aura, of bringing him under
the influence of Mrs. C., for the chief re
sult was a promise that Mrs. Van Duson
should call at once. The latter also fell
under the spell, for our pretty social as
pirant made herself us attractive to wo
men at? to men. Next, following Mrs.
\an D. s advice, she began to attempt
small dinners and theater parties, and
with wonderful good sense she made haste
slowly. She never made an undesirable
friend. The best or none seemed to be
her motto. A few well worded paragraphs
mentioning her guests began to appear in
the society columns about her little func
tions. Clymber on his part put society
men up to good things in Wall street,
and their wives returned the civilities by
asking the C.’s to dinner.
“Aristocratic women who are always
In want of pin money had also ‘favors’
done them by deals in stocks w'herem they
risked nothing end stood to win a good
deal, and they, of course, praised the C.’s
to the ekies. Finally, the latter ventured
n ball. That was the crucial test, for
oddly enough, it is much easier to get
Invitations to tiptop balls than to make
the ‘tiptops’ come to yours. I am not suro
what wiies were pulled to make the X.’s
and \ .’s and Z.’s come to the Olymbers’
dance, but I suspect some of them. I
know that Mrs. Z.’s most intimate friend,
<* whom she is really devoted, has anew
diamond spray; that Mr. X., whose af
fairs every one said were shaky, has pull
ed himself together, and Mrs. Y.’s fav
orite charity had a most munificent check
from i Mr. C. Anyway, they came: the
ball was an immense success and the
Clymbers are now fairly in the 6wim.”
A Mother’s Reasoning—
I miss the little, laughing baby face**,
The loving ey< s that always turned to
me:
I miss the roguish ways and elfish graces
Of little forms that clustered at my
knee.
Of rosy lips that left such happy kisses
Upon my ever-willing cheek and brow.
And, oh! the thousand nameless joys
and bliss s
That once I had, but only dream of
now’!
And vef r know full well if Time could
bear me
Back to the days of proud young moth
erhood.
I’d miss the gentle presence ever near
me
Of those who as my grown-up babies
stood.
To bn without my boy’s strong reassur
ance,
To be without my girl's sweet sym
pathy,
Would go beyond my heart’s most firm
endurance,
E’en though my babies clung again to
me!
Well, motherlike. I miss the bonny
tresses
That lay upon my breast in tangled
curl;
Yet T would die to lose the love that
blesses
My whole life, in my grown-up boy and
girl. —The Presbyterian Journal.
The New York Press is entitled the
oredir for the following reflections of an
old bachelor:
r? a thin, woman is rich, she is only
e 1 i ght.
The closer you get to her the more far
away look a girl gets.
A man’s ambition is to be noted; n wo
man's to be noticed.
No man knows w'hat it means to suc
ceed with a woman till he has failed with
one.
A woman can conceal her age, but ■when
i man plays golf he has got to shcw his
legs.
The best way for n woman to get rid of
a man she doesn’t like her husband to
like, is to treat him too nice.
There is never any hope for a man
his wife gets so she thinks she can pick
out his clothes best for him.
If a man apologized to company for his
wife’s cooking half ae much as she does
herself, she would go home to her moth
er.
Half the time when a man lie** to his
wife, he does it because he knows he
can get up n story that will sound a lot
more reasonable to her than the truth.
The woman of to-day does rot tell her
husband everything she does. This is net
staled as a matter of news, but simply to
assure the husband who has found his
Wife out that he is not alone. Some years
ogo it would have been thought monstrous
for a woman to have an income derived
from a source kept secret from the mart
she has sworn to love, honor and some
times obey, but to-day such a thing ex
cites little remark.
Yet w ith all the progress of recent years
in this direction It Is rare that a woman
has become famous without her husband's
knowledge. Such a case, however, is of
record. A young London solicitor rec n'-
ly found himself in financial difficulties
owing to a fall In Kaffir shares, in which
he had speculated rather rashly shortly
before war in South Africa became a cer
tainty.
Like many husbands, be never troub’ed
his w6fe with his business affairs until his
position became so ominous that he felt
it would be only right to warn her of the
crash which seemed inevitable. Having
learned the exact amount of money neces
sary to cover the deficiency, she astonish
ed him by offering to find the money with
in three hours. Explanations folowed
and he discovered for the first time ihat
his wife had secretly devoted ell her 'eis
ure to novel writing and had met with
such astonishing success that she had
three novels publ'shed under a masculine
nom de plume in four years and had real
ized from them more than twice the supi
necessary to save the situation. The rea
son for the secrecy was that she hud
written the first novel to suprprise her
htisband. and when he read it upon publi
cation he expressed so poor an opinion of
it that she resolved to keep her secret as
lone as possible. But the success her
novel met decided her to continue writing
and she has now. needless to say, the
most hearty encouragement from her hus
band.
An unfortunate estrangement was caus
ed by an army officer discovering, upm
his recall from India, that his wife had
seoertly gone into business during his
long absence from home. Although a wo
man moving in the best society and pos
sessed of an enormous circle of friends,
she had successfully launched herself in
to trad* without the knowledge of any of
her acquaintances, taking over a modest
cigar store in a street not far from
Shaftesbury avenue, where her beautiful
face which was famous in the best draw
ing-rooms in London, attracted innumer
able customers, any one of whom might
have been an intimate friend and expo-ed
the whole business.
Assisted bv a young woman, howev r
she was able to attend shop or rot, Just
as her private engagements permitted
and it was very rarely she served across
? he counter after 7ln the evening. Never
theless the greater part of every week day
She devoted to pushing her business, and
she had already trebled the turnover be
fere she was detected, which occurred in
a manner not quite clear, hut almost Im
mediately upon the return of her hus
band.
-I love a beautifully worked darn!” said
a good housekeeper to a New York Tri
bune wtlter. "II Implies so much. If I
see table linen that has been carefully
mended I say to myself. 'That woman la
an excellent housemlstress, and a *lrl
whose stockings are neatly darned by her
self Is a girl after my own heart. I tell
mv sons to find out If a girl dims hr
stockings before asking her to matry. I
know one young woman who s. We up
her stockings with black thread, and an -
otlver who wears a stocking until it Is
useless and then gives It nway. I hop*
neither of those girl, will Income my
daughter-in-law. A neatly nvndel glove
or carefully darned stocking, I say to my
liovs Is fur more attractive than a per
fectely new article, for It shows the char
apipr of its owner.
"Some old-fashioned writer of moral
t iles tells how a young man falls In love
with a girl because of u dear little darn
in the toe of her stocking, her dipper
having been stuck In the mud, while lor
far mom beautiful sister revolts him by
betraying inadvertently a hole In the l ed
of her silken hose. I dore suv the ren
'n those old sotrles who bestow their af
fections with so much discrimination
seem like absurd prigs to the g.rl of the
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JUNE 24, 1900.
Borfltngcr
Glass craft I . r
NUMBER TWELVE. ' Suggestions or
■*&■ I Coming Style
It isn’t prophecy, but simply the advantage of
position, -which leads us to observe and note the
signs whi ch point to this tendency or that in the
world of glassware. The signals now indicate the
coming uie of light fine ware, with little cutting
®and light decorations, for table service. Sold all
over the United States by
This trade- C. DQRFLINGER 8c SONS
mark label on
everypie. BROADWAY . NEW YORK
period, but after all it is the hom*ly vir
tues that wear the best, and a < man might
do worse than choose a wife on account
of her housewifely merits.’’
A Topeka Kansas dispatch the New
York Sun says: The wearing, of b oomer
uniforms by a basketball lean ► of girls at
the Kansas. State Normal School has
started a row between the fac illy and re
gents which has been car rife] to Gov.
Stanley and which may result: in several
removals. During the past fejw months
Miss Anna Stone, who has charge of the
dei>artment of physical cultu re at the
State Normal School, has beta training
two teams of girls for a match game of
basketball, to be played as a part of the
exercises of commencement wv* k. The
training took place in the g nmnaMum,
where the other students were i <*t permit
ted to see the girls in uniform..
The question of the propriety of the
girls wearing their uniforms luring ihe
public game came up and Miss £ Hone final
ly gave her consent. The appe nrance of
the girls thus attired created qu Ire a stir.
A photographer placed his can Kara in a
convenient place and secured a g ood pic
ture of the players and Miss SIU ne. The
latter then refused to permit the*game to
go on unless the authorities of iThe ‘nsti
tution should secure the plate. The pho
tographer refused to surrender :K.
The impatient auditnee began shouting
“Play ball!” and the girl** mutitiled and
played the game against the order of
their teacher. Miss Stone car;n ed the
matter to President Taylor and usl-cd that
the refractory girls be suspend id. lie
sustained Miss Stone and was ibout to
take action when John Madden, resident
member of the Board of Regent a, inter
fered.
Both sides are making a firm st£\c and. The
faculty is selected by the of re
gents. The members of the boart I of re
gents are appointed by the Gove mor. If
he sustains the board there will urobably
be several resignations in the facu II y t*s a
result of the Incident. A speeiaj meet
ing of the board has been called an and will
be attended by Gov. Stanley.
Mr. Madden made and won the fi £ht for
the retention of Prof. Chrismari, v'no re
cently offended the Congress of Me others
at I>es Moines by declaring th-at tut *’o
not love. *
The status of farmers' wives is 9ect iring
unusual consideration these days i r* the
columns of agricultural Journals through
out the country as well as at gath tringa
of farmers. At a recent institute lu ?ld in
Kentucky Mrs. Lucy Cleavor Me filroy
spoke some pungent truths
these drudges of the farm. "At
lhe first gray streak of daw'n,” she said,
"the wife's pet rooster crows long .and
loud. He does it on purpose to a Walken
her from her beauty sleep, and is alw ys
successful. She has obeyed lire * tum
nions so often that it has become se ccni
nature, and before she realizes it -tj |e :s
out of the warm blankets. noise! etsly
trembling in her clothes lest she wak r the
sleeping baby: half clad, her cold fin fere
still fidgeting with her brooch, she scs- mp
ers to the kitchen. Once there a nerv-ous
fear that breakfast may be late st Ize*
her and she rushed about until it is on the
table and the family seated, when tihe
draws her first long breath while tihe
blessing is being asked. The breakfast
boiled in hot haste and the man .tff to
work, she resumes her hurry, sennit s
through the dishwashing and kitsti *
work, hastens through bedmaklng unit
housecleaning, skims over milk vessels*
refrigerators and churning, hurries to ths
garden for vegetables, rushes through din.
ner, mokes her fingers fly on the after,
noon sewing and scouring, so she m6-y
worry through supper at the proper hou (,
to sink exhausted into a c'na'r at bb
time, too weary to speak or think.
"How would our Southern farms im>
prove if the women would but know that
a part of their tme position on the farm
is to make farm life beautiful. Can there ,
then, be a question that the true pofiuoi i
of woman on a farm Is yet among tb e
problems of the future? When the farn n
progresses to the position of a well-ord r
ed business, having its debit and credit
account with each of its fields and indus
tries; when its capital is fairly apportion
ed to the different branches of work and!
Its receipts are correspondingly divided';
when the farmer admits the wife as hit*
business partner, entitled to her Just star*
of the profits of the farm, and when ho
remembers that 'woman won' does not
necessarily mean that neglect ar.d ,nulf
ference are as acceptable to the wife as
arder and attention were to ih&
sweetheart when the woman om
the farm realizes that upon
her depend not only the cooking. th
care of the children and other domestic,
duties, but that everything that make*
life on the farm pleasant as far at neat
ness taste and embellishment can make
it are her especial charge, and that she
also must remember in the hard-work Ing.
aging husband the lover of her youth,
then and only then, will woman s true
position on the farm be reached, and the
garden of Eden will find again a place on
earth a rural life will become the envy
of those bred and dwelling in the confine
ments of city life.”
"I did ten strokes better in golf this
morning." said a young girl, as she threw
herself down on a chair by her mother.
The latter laughed: "Do you know why.
she asked slyly."lt is because I let out
vour stays before you put them on, and
you were in such a hurry you. never-no
ticed it." Thereupon, says the New York
Tribune, followed a brisk argument, and,
of course, the usual assertion* on the
part of the young woman—how she always
wore her cloth,* "looser than any girl
she knew.” etc -all the protestations with
which every mother is .
"But why is it, queried the parent, ig
noring the usual asseverations, "that you
and your friends consider small waists
so desirable? What possible difference
can a couple of Inches make In VOW fu
t„re except, perhaps, to render It misera
ble by causing ill-health? Who will ad
mire you more because of it, or love you
better for The reason that your waist
measures 21 inches instead of 24 or 2o in
ches' I cannot tell you how foolish I
think It is of you girls to sacrifice so much
for so little?" . .
"What Is that story,” exclaimed the
daughter mischievously, "that your moth
er used to tell you about Mary with a
thick waist and Emma with a tiny one,
and how Emma died with consumption
nnd Mary married Emma's lover? But
Emma had the lover, you see, In the first
place and why, O dearest mamma, was
It necessary to tell you that story? Did
you not. perhaps, pull the strings of your
corsets also Just a little hit tight?
Whereupon her mother laughed consci
ously, for she. too. had been proud in days
gone by of her slender figure.
Tight lacing Is by no means a thing or
the past, as so many seem to think, and
how the athletic young woman of to-day
can perform the feats that she accom
plishes with a squeezed-ln waist is one of
the marvels of physiology, going to prove
more than ever that we are “fearfully and
wonderfully made.”
Dead Rcses—
Beloved, the hours that I spent with you
Were like unto white roses when the new
Swift Spring bends over each to mako
it fair
Nay. was It fault of mine I plucked so
few?
Ah, me! my rose that T bore away
Faded to memories within a day;
But I have pressed their petals In my
heart—
In its closed pages are they shut alway.
Yes, sweet, comfort is there in this thing:
Though I plucked no new buds in any
Spring.
Listen! I turn the pages of my heart—
Can you not hear dead roses rustling?
—Theodosia Garrison, in the Smart Set.
In France women are allowed to wear
male attire, but they must pay for the
privilege. The amount of the tax which
a woman pays for wearing breeches is
about £2 a year; but her willingness to
pay the tax does not insure her the right
to wear these garments. Asa matter of
fact, the right is conferred by the gov-,
eminent as a tribute of great merit, and
the honor conferred is something like that
of the coveted ribbon of the Legion of
Honor.
The only woman to whom the right to
wear male attire has been given are
Georges Sand. Rosa Bonheur, Mme. Dieu
lufoy, the Persian archaeologists; Mme.
Foucalt, the bearded woman; Mmes.
Fourreau and La Jeannette, both sculp
tors.
French women are very anxious some
times for the right to wear male attire,
but it is carefully guarded. Last year the
government was petitioned In vain by
Madame de Valsayre. This lady is well
known for her propensity to fight duels,
and her efforts to get elected to the
French Assembly. She Is a pretty woman
with a profusion of blonde hair, but her
beauty had no effect on the hearts of the
authorities, who sternly refused to allow
her the coveted privilege.
Clement Scoit pays the following tribute
to American women in a recent London
publication: “You must meet Americans
in their own to find how gracious,
kindly-hearted and hospitable they are.
HospUJble. I nit an. not only in giving
you the best they can afford, but In go
in# oui of their way to sivo their guests
a happy time under roof.
“Say you are invited to a dinner party.
You discover an air cf geniality and gav
ety directly the street door closes behind
you. No stlffmss or formality or stand
offishness mars those cmetim 6 n cold and
ghastly moments that precede a dinner
party at hom©. The introductions are
cheerfully done and often with a sense
cf humor. The conversation at once be
omes general and animated. You are
In a happy family circle in less than five
minutes.
“You are asked to be the e cort of some
highly-educated lady, beautifully dressed
and in excellent taste, as ail Americans
are, and, in nine cases out of ten. with
th* glorious hair of * very imaginable tint
and shade, Loin gold to red, which is
the pride of the American race.
“You will have, b°li*ve me, to hold your
own with this delightful dinner compan
ion. Tt will not be the case of a cold and
cheerl-ss siatue and having to draw rter
out. Quite the contrary. She will do her
utmost to draw you out and test your
knowledge on every conceivable subject,
and von will find her well informed on
almost every topic, social or literary, that
generally occupies conversation.
“U is the rarest thing to find any
American woman who does not know
something, and that somethirg nccuratfly,
on a variety of subjects, ordinary and
abstruse. Your partner will arguo with
you with skill ami acumen, never dog
matically, and will end by making you
as pleased with yourself as she very
likely is with herself.
“Thfn the host and hostess do their
utmost to make the conversation amus
ing and general. It is a case of give and
take all around. Whenever we drove honv*
from an American dinner party there was
but one remark, ‘What a delightful even
ing!’
“American women love to congregate
and discuss matters dear and Interesting
to them. They never waste time on
frivol.”
The fashionable women of Persia, saya
the New York Sun. have finally deetd and
.to adopt European dress, and the ser
-1 .ices of the dressmakers in Teheran are
► eld to te rewarded now at a fatu’-
' cqs rate. All the women of the capital
decided suddenly to abandon their naive
<iress and appear in costume< modelled
after the fashions of the Boulevard des
Capucines. *
Only three foreign dressmakers live in
Teheran. Two of them are French wo
ttl 'n, while the third Is a native who
spent some years in Europe. Now there
is a profitable held for the labors cf
m: ny others. a the European mode of
dr ss will in all probability be retained
thi sre.
’. The Persian women are said to be ex
tr vagantly luxurious in matters of dress.
Tb e thr.e seamstresses in the town have
rat sd their prices, which their customers
I ay without protest. The task of sud
d e.lly dressing the wealthy women of an
e tttlre city, who decided one day to abun
d on their traditional garb and follow Eu
r jpean modes, was of course, too much
( r the dressmakers. They had to take
t e ladles according to their rank and
<filarged them prices beyond anything
tin t even the Persian women had ever
pal. 1 before,
qg ,t question of gowns was not the only
ot lie that confronted the Persian women
w tho changed their ld*as of dress. Cor
s ‘.s, which they had never worn before,
tvdd to he provided, and that task proved
qhe most difficult of all. They had always
bean looked upon in the past as highly
fori unate in being free from the bondage
of the corset and had always escaped th
dine a scs of women which it was supposed
to cause.
'jlSeheran Is said to be regarded now as
.a 4 londike for French milliners and
drea smakers, who are moving toward it
rapji Uy. and as the Persians are not as
■tec well Informed about the fashions
tjiei aIV carrying with them anything
they could find ready.
"F. >r one thing European women are to
b en vied," said a student of singing who
has 1 ust returned from a sojourn .if three
yeart tin Europe. "That is the facility with
whla h they ate able to keep lady's maids
on lit itle or no Income. I have known wo
w<m abroad to keep maids when I have
wwf.dered how they could employ them
w torking on the meager wardrobes they
s (pined to possess.
"A lady's mold is looked upon by most
A .lnerican women as a luxury. An Ameri
c in woman never thinks of engaging a
n i:ltd until she has pretty nearly every
-1.1.1 mg else In the world that a reasonable,
woman would want. After she has a**-
qulred Jewelry, clothes and an income
which is likely to enable her to enjoy
these things permanently, she thinks of
getting a maid to take care of them. Rut
the maid abroad is a necessity, to Judge
from her unexpected appearance in the ser
vice of many women. I have met frowzy
old women of title in Germany, dressed
in shabby black and living In small ho
tels of the kind I visited, who might have
gone for years without anew bonnet, to
Judge by their appearanA*. But they all
had their maids. 1 found the same thing
true In France. Thin, sharp-faced, un
married women, who had long passed tHe
age at which they needed the protection
of a maid amt who mighi Ik* entirely with
out vanity or thought for their personal
appearance, to judge by their looks, had
their maids. English women who would
ask for the smallest and cheapest room
In the hotel and would haggle with the
proprietor over rales until he was almost
ready to let them go rather than take, off
a cent more, might arrive with a very
small allowance of luggage, but their
maids were in charge of it.
“No American woman who had *o live so
economically as these women would over
think of dragging a maid after her. But
it always seemed as if the maid were a
distinctly necessary part of the existence
of the women to whom I refer. Most of
them looked a* if they had a hard time in
struggling along themselves, but they were
determined to get the comfort that itime
from having a maid to look after them.
Most women appreciate the luxury that
is supplied by the service of a maid, even
if they would not consider that it afforded
sufficient compensation for the economy
necessary in other directions. The foreign
er has her maid, however, even if she has
to be parsimonious in other matters.”
One reason for the custom of employing
lady’s maids in Europe, even when the
mistress is not rich, says th<* New t^ork
Sun, could probably be found in the great
er cheapness of living for servants
abroad. In New York hotels the mistress
must pay nearly as mu< h for her maid’s
entertainment us for her own. and, com
bined with the maid’s wages, the cost for
keeping her can be borne only by the
wealthy, or at least by those who cun in
dulge themselves in any luxury they de
sire. Lady's maids are so roro in the
United States that no arrangements for
housing them reasonably have ever been
made. The lady’s maid is probably em
ployed as frequently hero as in Europe in
the families of well-to-do people. Probably
every New York family of a certain in
come employs ong or more ladv’a maids,
in accordance with the number of daugh
ters there may be in the household. Un
der such circumstances a lady’s maid is
loss expensive than she is in a hotel.
Maids who are not accomplished seam
stresses will find It difficult to get employ
ment. They are relied upon to do much
of the plain sewing of the young girls and
usually make their gowns when these are
not too ell>orale. It is only to the woman
who boards that the lady’s maid is a lux
ury in this country.
To look trim in her shirt waist, says
the N*\v York KerukV. seems to be an im
possibility to the average summer girl.
Apparently she goes on the principle that
because the waist is loose It requires no
attention beyond putting on and buttdn
ing. Nothing could be further from the
fact. Gareful adjustment is necessary to
gi,vo the good fitting, well put together
appearance.
Large safety pins or white beaded pine*
three inches long should be regarded as
oomplementnl of every shirt waist. Use
three, or perTiapg four, of these, prefera
bly the white hced<d ones. Having put
on and buttoned a shirt waist, first pin
the back down to the corsets below the
waist line.
F’ull ike sh4rt well clown before adjust
ing the pin. This improves the fit and
reveals the curve of the back, one of the
prettiest of feminine lines. Next see that
the fronts of the waist from the under
arm seam to the gathers are smooth on
the figure, then pin each side securely
down to the corset on a line with the
back. This done, the dress skirt may be
put on. and that fastened In the Iwck #o
the shirt with the fourth pin. About the
waist then goee the belt, and the arrange*
meat Is complete.
►Shirts are sometimes made with a gath
ering string which pulls from the back
of the wai-st. tying in front, and these
are worn by a number of deluded women,
who fancy that because they lie a string
about the waist they are getting a trig
effect. On the contrary, of all shirts this
style Is most “sloppy.” The gathers
spread unbecomingly, pull up out of place,
and after an hour of wearing the whole
waist has the appearance of trying to
wrest itself from its owner.
Some women have eyes sewed on the
backs of their shirts. This, as far as it
goes, is recommended for trigness, birt is
disastrous to the ahirt, for the weight of
the skirt is often too great a strain; more
over. the eyes frequently tear the fa bile
in the wash and never fail to rust, leaving
two bad stains.
Shirt waists wrinkled in front and back,
pulling up from the belt and generally
askew, are more commonly seen than in
necessary. There is no reason why they
should not fit as well as the body of i
tailor gown. Rut it does not all lie with
the shirtmnker. The woman must do her
part. We will fit the thing well, but
defrauded of bones to guarantee its per
fect shape. So the woman, If she b*
trig, shape* it herself. And this she
does by pulling it in close all around to
her figure and firmly fastening it to her
corsets with three long white headed pins.
Taking Up a Claim
The Story of Tucker A Hos% Ileal
, Kstate.
IIY CHARLES R. niIIMBLECRM.
The deputy assessor snapped the elas
tic band around his bulky took after
duly setting forth therein the possessions
cf Tucker & Rose: “Real estite: S. E.
Va, se< tion 15, township 8. soi th range
3 wen, etc.; 83 acres orchard, 12 acres
pasture and hay land, 65 acres timber
land.”
“Well, you ain’t a-goln* before dinner,
so Jest £et right down here," said Ezra
Tucker, genially, and the tired cfli lal
cKd not hesita/e to accept a seat on the
co 1 venranda betide his host.
“You’ve lived here a lor.g time,’* raid
the deputy.
“Twenty-seven year this spring,” re
plied Tuck* r. “Made some little changes
in that time, too. Mighty nUh this
whole claim was thi k woods when I fust
seen It.
“’Twas a cjt'ous hing, too. I’ll fell
you how ’twas. You see, I kinder got
a notion that it would be a good
to take up some gov’ment land, so I rode
up here from Santa (’ruz, sixteen mile,
over a pesky b.ad trad, and my /rands,
ti e Crawfords, over here on the San Lo
renzo, they showed mo tils quarter-at c
tion.
“Thee was a 1 ‘t'e shuck of a ca la
on the place, bjiilt by Tom Tudor, a feller
who used to hunt and 1 trap for a livin',
l ut he never pre-empud the land, and at
that time he’d Konu to Arizona. 8 I
took up the janch, without any ide of
trouble, and then went hack to Santa
Cruz o git n me? things, ’cause 'cordin'
to law. you hud to live on your claim
six months before you could prove up.
••Rut th • re xt lime I com-* up, Mnl
eolmb Crawford, he told me that he’d
heard there was another feller prospect
in’ 'round my ranch. He'd been up ttnro
himself with his gun io Inquire about It.
but didn't se notoiy; but he sail I’d
he4ter git up th**re a qul k the Lord
w uld let me, and hold down tHo claim.
“I left my horse at Crawford’s ‘cause
there want much feed In the woods, and
made up a pack of flour, bacon, cofL-o and
.lUgar. and Malcolm lent me a shotgun
that he said might come in handy, on
ihe way up I fired both barrels of tie gun
at some quail, and then I found that Id
forgot to bring any ammunition.
“Everything was still as death, ©x.*ept
the crickets chirpin’ with a lonesome
Greater Bargains Than Ever!
The Last Week of Our Stock-Taking Sale
Will Be Made Profitable to Buyers. A Great
Clean Sweep Will Be Made, Prices No Ob
ject—the Goods “ MUST BE SOLD. “
THE STOCK-TAKING SALE
Irish Linen Lawns, “Genuine Imported," at 19 Cents
Imported Zephyr Ginghams, "The Latest,’’ at 19 Cents
Irish Dimities, “The Very Best Qualities,’’ at 19 Cents
White Batiste Mull, “Very Fine and Sheer,” at 19 Cents
White India Linun, “Exquisite 25c Goods," at 19 Cents
40 Cents Choice Embroideries, “Best Ever Sold,” at 19 Cents
,50 Cents Ladies’ Laundered Shirt Waists at 29 Cents
Best duality Taffeta Silks, "All New Shades,” at 69 Cents
Ecru Pongee Silks, “imported From China,” at 50 Cents
Black China Silks, at 33c, at 39c, at 49c, at 69 Cents
50c Towels Reduced to 25c
51.25 Black Taffeta Silks, 27 Inches Wide, at 88 Cents
SIOO Black and Colored Serges. 54 Inches, at 59 Cents
10 Yards of Best 27-inch Wide Diaper, at 69 Cents
Men's Fancy Dress Shirts, Select Styles, at 39 Cents
Men’s India Gauze Undershirts go at 15 Cents
Solid Colored Pique, the 19c Quality, at 40 Cents
19 Cents Lawns, Madras and Organdies at 10 Cents
20 Cents Edgings and Insertings, a Gilt, at 10 Cents
25 Cents White Checked Dimity Corded at 15 Cents
45 Cents Genuine French Organdies Now at 25 Cents
A Great Handkerchief at 3c
$2.00 White Shirt Waists, Choice Styles, at SI.OO
$4.00 White Shirt Waists, Very Finest, at $2.23
$1.50 Plain and Fancy Linen Crash Skirts at 88 Cents
Applique Skirts, an Absolute Slaughter, at $5.00
White and Fancy Parasols, $2.50 Quality, at $1.50
$2.00 Iron Grenadine. Plain or Striped, at $1.25
$1.50 Pure Irish Linen Table Damask at 98 Cents
$1.50 Pure Irish Linen Dinner Napkins at 99 Cents
$2.00 Black Silks, Satins and Armnre at $1.25
Yard-wide Blcachings and Sea Islands at 5 Cents
No Fake! Every Item is Here in Ample
Quantity, as Advertised. The Best Goods
in Savannah Less Than the Trash Elsewhere 1
GUSTAVE ECKSTEIN & CO.
sound, and I put the things in the cabin.
There was a lit tie 11 r place built of mud
and sticks in one end, with a chimney of
split l>oards, and I built a lire to git a bite
of supper.
“As I was ptundln,' in the doorway feel
in' kinder doleful, I sec a man with a pack
on his hack cornin’ up the trail. He was
si out and his fac© was preity red, and
when he se© me It got quite a bit redder.
He, come up puffin’ and seemed put out
’ Ik>ut someihing, and Jest then it come
into my head that mebbe he was the other
feller.
“ ‘What you doin’ in that cabin T he
says, real cross.
“ 'My residence at present,’ say I.
‘Won’t you com© in?’
“ ‘None o’ your blarsted sqrc*e wi’ me,’
he says. ‘This ’ere Is my claim, and I
want you to git off it directly.’
“ ‘You're laborin' under a slight mis
take.’ says I. ‘This is my claim; but you
n< . dn*t be in a hurry ’bout goin’. 6tay
till mornin’, anyway. Darned if I ain’t
glad of company.’
“Well, wo talked awhile, and he kep*
gittin* madder and madder.
“ ‘You’ve got the advantage of me now,’
he ro.irs out, ‘but if it wa’nf for Ihat
bloody gun you’ve got so ‘andy I’d put
you out o’ my cabin quleker’n a wink.’
“ ‘You needn’t fret about the gun,’ I
says. (I’d left It outside leanln’ agin tho
cabin.) ‘Why, I fired off both barrels at
some quail down here, and I didn't bring,
a mite o’ ammunition with me.’
“ ‘You carn’t come it on me,’ he says,
kinder sneerin. ‘You’d like to hentlco me
lo come on and then let me 'ave it,
wouldn’t you?’
“ ‘Well, take the pesky gun and se for
yourself,’ I says, holdin’ it out toward
him.
“ 'No, you don’t, old smoothy,’ he says,
turnin’ away.
“ ‘Come in and hav© a bite of supper,
anyhow.’ I says. ‘The water's bllln’ and
ni make some coffee In n Jiffy.’
“He grumbled something, end went off
and camped under nil oak tree a little
ways off. That’s the very tree down
there by the barn.
“I’d done my best to b© sociable, so I
made my coffee and fried some bacon,
gome way ’twas kinder pleasant to -ee
th© other feller’s fire. but he lookel
mighty crusty and didn’t have a word
more to say.
• After supper T lit a piece of candl©
end read a newspaper that I’d brought
from town, but I got s*h-cpv pretty quick
iipread my blankets in the l unk I
shut the door and put a prop .agin it—nor
that I was tfraid. but T Jest happened to
think that I didn’t really know anything
al>out the other feller.
“I was oiT to sleep in a minute, and th*
next tiling I know was seeln’ a big glare
of light and feelln* things gittin’ pesky
hot. I Jumped up, and. Lord! if the wnoie
end of the cabin won’t in ablaze!
•“Gosh all hemlock!’ I says He’*
b id man and Is tryln’ to burn me up, s-ure
as tho devil's an Injun.’
“Hut jo*t then 1 I heard an awful ham
nv-rlrr on tho 'loor and tho other feller
hollerin’:
“ ‘Git up, you blarsted fool! I>o you
want lo be' rooked alive? Turn out, and
be d—d to you.' . . . .
"Then I Jedged that the fire had caught
In th* old dry chimney. I bounced ur>
and irrablea] the coffee pot and threw the
irrounds on the conflagration, but it didn’t
<|o a mite o' good, so 1 kicked away the
prop and run out, kinder singed. I I'lck.
C.l UP a low. Stick and began to knock ofT
the boards that was afire, but the Idiot
that built the caldn had nailed 'em on
from the Inside, and wlcn I knockrd 'em
oil they all tumbled Inside, of course, and
I had to run in and drajr ’em out, and I
burnt mv hands pretty bad. The other
feller had been standln' off, laughin' kind
er sarcastic.
.. 'Much oblceged to you for wakln m,
I says, us tie started back to his camp.
" '.With blamed carelessness I never see,'
he Krowls. 'You’ve got to repair my cabin
or pay for It.’
"I out n few saplln's and set em up
agin the open erid of the cabin. It was
moonlight, and 1 could see pretty well.
Then I . rawied into the bunk again. I
didn’t prop the door thi* time, but I wish
ed I had afterward. My hands hurt me so
bad that I couldn’t sleep, and I turned
and twisted for an hour.
"All at once I heard something. My
bloc.l all turned lo tee and my hair brlalled
like a shoe brush. It was a soft, hut
heavy tread, and u loud, hoarse breathin'
Just outside the cabin close to my head.
! And then 1 smelt somethin* like a pig
sty. I knew well enough what It was.
There was only the thickness of a split
clap-board between mo and a big
bear! ‘
"1 began to think like chain lightning.
The shotgun 'twa'n’t louded, and If it had
been charged to the muzzle ‘twould only
sting him and motto him mad as a hor
net. i might climb upon the croas beams.
Pshaw! They wa'n't seven foot from the
floor, and one scoop of his paw would
bring me down like a ripe plum.
"Not. thlnkin' of anything sensible to do,
I didn’t do nothin', but I kep' still as I
• ver kep' in my life. 1 fairly shrunk up
like a withered potato.
“The bear walked slowly around thg
cabin, breathin’ as if he had the asth
ma. Pretty soon I saw him through tba
saplin's, and 1 knew he could brush ’em
away like smoke. He lifted up his big
head and looked toward me, and I'll take
my solemn oath that he was bigger than
any bull ihat ever pawed the earth. Ha
stuck out hln nose and sniffed with a
dreadful noise. I tried to think of the
Lord's prayer.
"Hurt pretty soon he moved on and I
heard him chompin' file bacon rlnda out
side. He walked around the cabin four
tim.-s, and eveiy time he stopped and
sniffed closer to the saplin’s. 'Twas only
the smell of tlie fire that kep' him from
cornin' in, that's sure Then he moved
OiT. for 1 didn't smell him anymore.
All of a sudden I made one Jump to
tho door, cusstn’ myself for a darned cow
ard. There I'd been thlnkin' 'bout myself
ail the time when that other poor feller
was sleepin’ in the open, and tho boar
would be sure to visit him after flnishln'
with me! And he'd been kind enough to
sa v mo from burnin' up, too. 1 run out
hollerin' to him:
" 'Look out, pardner, there's a grizzly
around!"
" 'Tell mo somo news, will you,’ come
a grouty voice out of the air, It seemed
to me. I looked up and saw something
dork up the oak tree, about as high aa a
man could well go.
“ 'You're roostin' high,’ I says. 'Did ha
take aft, r you?'
" ‘I seen ’im a-comln' and I didn’t stop
for lunch,' says he. Me blankets Is rtb
hona, and he's eat everything but the as
and fryln’ pan.'
“'Will, slid,, down and make a break
for the c:t! in. He ain’t in sight now.'
" 'Thank ye, I'm comfortable,' says he.
"However. I talked him into cornin'
down, and he made a very pretty run
for the cabin. I couldn't have best It
myself, and I wes pretty spry in those
day . We slipped in and propped the
do, r and he began to cuss a fool who
would come uway and forgit his ammu
nlll n.
"Daylight was an awful long time
a-comin', but it showed up at last. Wo
built a tire and made some coffee, but
we d'dn't fry no bacon.
"The other fellow seemed kinder blue.
I felt sorry for him, so I says:
“ ‘My friend, you can have this ranch*
1 don’t like to interfere with anybody**
plans, and my business in town Is press
in’, anyway. You con have my blankets
and what grub Is left, and I’ll bid you
gol-by.'
" 'No you don’t,’ ho ho’lered, Jumpin'
up. ‘This ’er ranch is yourn. I wao
oily Jokin’ last night. The climate 'or*
, oft agree si' me. I mu-t be oft.'
" "I couldn’t think of It,' says I. ’You
ran mak ■ a nice home out of It. Good
luck to you.’
" 'I means what I says,’ he growls, real
hufTy. 'This ’ere ranch Is yourn, and
don’t you insult me by Insinuating that
I’m trying' lo git It you.'
"Well, the upsho' of it was that we had
a blgxer quarrel than we had the night
before.”
Ezra Tucker laughed and slapped his
knee.
"But, how did it come out?” asked the
deputy assessor.
"Oh the other feller Is Rose, thy part
ner. We got over our scare and we both
stayed. Th-re's Ros- cornin’ now, end
I guess dinner’s ready.”
—Bishop Lcnihan (Roman Catholic), of
Auckland, who has Just pars-d through
the United State* on his way home, after
an ofllclal visit to Rome and a tour of
Europe, enler-d the New Zealand mls
siomry field when twenty-four years old.
In 1896. on the death of Bishop Luck, he
was consecrated bishop. Thhs is the first
vacation he has had since entering tho
missionary field.
13