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WOMAN’S
WORLD.
In the New York World Max o‘Rell
has his say about “Mere Woman,'’ and
Sarah Grand says what she thinks
about “Mere Man." This is what Max
O’Rell says:
The most religions woman will post
pone an Interview with her maker for
an appointment with her dressmaker.
The woman who is constantly blush
ing must be terribly well informed.
In matrimony, to retain happiness
and make it last to the end, it is not
a question for a woman to remain
beautiful—it is a question for her to
remain interesting.
Mme. Grand’s idea is that all the
faults of woman are to be laid at the
door of man. This, I protest, is quite
unfair.
The American man Is practically the
slave of woman.
Any girl who tries to attain too great
an education runs the risk of becom
ing what I may call “Bostonized.”
Education is to women very often
what wealth is to men. It does not
take a woman long to become a par
venu in the matter of education.
Why is it that ugly women hate the
pretty ones?
Why are women less indulgent than
men to the faults of women?
There comes a time when a woman
has to make up her mind to choose
between being called a “dear old soul,’’
or “a crabby old thing.’’
Women, should have two great aims
in life—trying to be beautiful and suc
ceeding in being pleasant.
This is what Sarah Grand says:
When you meet a man who describes
himself as a “mere man” you would
always do well to ask what he wants,
for since man first swung himself from
the bough in the forest primeval and
stood upon his two legs he has never
assumed that position for nothing.
The kindness of men are oitener the
outcome of their own satisfaction than
their desire to please.
Men are useful, and they make excel
lent comrades.
One of the most delightful persons
I ever met was an old gentleman who,
early in life, had sworn off finding fault
with the weather.
The truth is that few men are a
match for a designing woman.
Women are further advanced mor
ally than men, more ready to respond
to ennobling influences, and when
those influences are absent from their
minds they suffer.
Men are educated to be public-spirit
ed, but not in the matter of marriage,
and this is a mistake.
But at a crisis in life one turns in
vain to woman. She has nothing to
offer but hairpins.
When a woman is blessed with a
good father, she is rich: when with a
good husband as well as a good fath
er, she is apt to grow- selfish, for she
must feel that everything that is best
in life was created for her sole benefit.
We are not trained up yet, says the
Argonaut, to the marriage of the real
ly old woman to the young man. Prob
ably fifty years from now it will be
quite the fashion, and grandmas of TO
■will have the air of being 25. But
there is such a piteous side of it. The
woman appears so humiliatingly old
and looks as if she knew it. Her paint
and powder and blond curls are pierc
ingly pathetic, indicating such a gal
lant fight against an enemy who has
already won. One day in the Due di
Rivoli, in Paris, I encountered one o.
these bedizened old dames walking
with a young and handsome man, tall,
very slim and well dressed. She was a
little woman and walked stiffly, a
though her boots were too tight. She
w-as radiantly dressed in white, a white
parasol was spread over her head, on
which w-as perched 'an elaborate
light ihat. Her face was rich
ly painted, with a pair of
crimson ldps as the deepest note of
color, and fringe of auburn curls w-ah
on her forehead. She looked haggard
and aged. There was something curi
ously familiar about her face, and, as
she spoke, I suddenly saw who it was
—Adelina Patti and her young hus
band! It was a shock. This was what
“the last of the great prima donnas’’
had come to.
It was about 8 o’clock. The woman
got ready and went down to the par
lor to wait for Jack. When the min
ute hand of the tall clock in the hall
pointed to live minutes of 4, says the
New York Sun, she gave a little cry
of impatience.
“These men, these men!" she ejacu
lated.
The landlady had-been watching her
all the time from the back room.
“Why don’t you go without him?"
she asked.
“I’m going to buy a hat,” exclaimed
the woman. "He must help me select
it. He has excellent taste, Jack has.
Besides, unless he likes my winter hat,
life will hardly be worth living, he’ll
complain so.”
"All I’ve got to say,” remarked the
landlady, “is that you're training him
wrong, to begin with. If you let him
know how much you think of his opin
ion now, what will it be after you are
married?”
It was five minutes after 4 now. The
doorbell rang and Jack stood outside.
She ran to admit him.
“Why are you so late?” she asked,
and before he could think up a plausi
ble story, she added: “Hurry up; I
want to see the hats by daylight. Once
I bought a blue hat by electric light
and when I got home and saw it by
daylight it was green.”
She had put on her prettiest clothes.
Jack, therefore, looking down at her,
thinking how charming it was of her
not to buy her winter hat without con
sulting him, felt prouder and chestier
than for ma*iy a day. He said to him
self that he would justify her confi
dence in his taste, by selecting her a
hat which would make her look even
prettier than she did, if that were pos
sible.
Eventually they arrived at a milli
ner's shop. Here he heard one of the
girls say to the woman:
"Did you want to trim your hat your
self?”
The woman answered Indignantly:
"Not that anybody knows of. Money
couldn't pay me to go out on the street
in a hat that 1 had yinimed myself.”
Then he saw the girl throw up her
chin and say scornfully: "You'll find
the trimmed hats on the second floor.
Elevator to your right.”
He found himself, thereupon, meekly
following In the wake of the woman’s
faintly rustling skirts to the elevator,
entering it, going up a space, stopping
wdth a Jerk and emerging finally upon
a large, long room, glimmering with
electric lights, where gorgeously trim
med hats of giant proportions stood on
man-high pedestals, or nodded, liower
fllled, behind shining glass cases, a
case to a hat.
The woman without a moment of hes
itation passed pedestal after pedestal,
crossed thiß room and stopped In front
of a case containing a large black vel
vet hat. This hat wag covered with
small pink buds thickly sprinkled over
and interspersed here and there with
leaves. It suggested spring time and
apple blossoms, was a .very beautiful
thing. Indeed, in the way of a hat.
, A girl had trailed softly in her foot
"When the fickle appe
, tite of the irritable con
£ valescent rejects every
thing else you can think
of in the food line, try
Jhim with a cup of beef
tea made from
i grain c ° m i ,an ' s
Extract
OF BEEF. Odds are that he takes
it gratefully and feels better after.
steps across the noiseless velvet of the
carpet.
"Do you wish to be waited upon?’’
she asked with a smile.
“Yes,” answ-ered the woman. “I like
this hat right here,” and before Jack
had time to count ten with precision
the girl had unfastened the door to
the case, taken out the hat and was
gracefully preceding the woman to a
little private room where she could try
it on.
Jack meekly took a seat outside in a
little chair set against the wall, en
deavoring to appear unconscious amid
the cross-fire of sly and laughing glanc
es mingled with whispers from the sur
rounding shopgirls, wondering why
shopgirls persisted in looking upon a
man out shopping with a woman as
something extraordinarily mirthful in
the way of a freak; but wondering
most of all why the woman had gone
to the trouble of bringing him along, to
endure tortures of Ignominy outside
while she closeted herself in the little
room and selected her own hat.
He had begun to wish he had stayed
at home, when the woman advanced to
the door of the little private room and
beckoning to him said:
“Come hert. Jack,” in much the same
manner as if she had whistled and
said: “Here, Fido, here!”
He got up. however, and went, to her.
The private room was a glittering cir
of mirrors framed in white. In the
conttr of these mirrors on a little white
chair sat the woman. He took a similar
chair beside her and looked at the
many reflections of her In the mirrors
round about.
On her head w-as the black velvet hat
with the pink rosebuds. The contour
was excellent. He had to acknowledge
that. The velvet pressed fetchingly
down on the back of her head, the
rosebuds dangling over. The rim half
shaded her eyes, more rosebuds dang
ling over.
He looked critically at her side face,
at her three-quarter face, at the fluff
of her hair, all glitteringly set forth
like so many portraits framed in white
and touched up with charming high
lights by the flash of the electrics.
The woman turned her head this way
and that, looking first at a near reflec
tion of herself and then at one some
what further off. There was a slight
frown on her face which was also re
flected till it couldn’t be reflected any
more.
“How do you like it?” she asked.
“I like it very well,” he answered,
“but are you going to buy the first
hat you see? Why not try on an
other?”
“Bring me another,” she said to the
girl, “but be sure you leave this here,”
and she laid her hand on the hat and
held it for fear it might get awav.
The girl brought an elphantine black
hat with an enormous black feather
slanting three sheets to windward or
more. She poised it lightly upon the
woman’s head. She screwed it down
a trifle, stuck a hatpin through and
turning to .Tack, said:
"Don’t you like that, sir?”
Jack bridled. The “sir” pleased him.
To a certain extent it compensated
for the giggles of those other girls
back of the closed door to the little
private room.
’’Yes,” he nodded, smilingly and re
flectively, “I like it very much.”
While the girl kept three white fin
gers on the crow-n of the hat for some
reason best known to herself, sin-ce
the hat pin should to all intents and
purposes have kept it in place, the wo
man frowned at herself again in the
glass. As before, the frown instantly
imprinted itself upon her full face, h.r
profile, her three-quarter view, upon
everything in fact, but the back of
her head, and Jack, seeing it, was fill
ed w-ith foreboding.
In the event that she should choose
another hat after his admission to the
girl that he liked the one with the
feather, about how small would he
feel? It was difficult to speculate.
Straightening himself up manfully,
he braced himself for the ordeal, but
his countenance reflected as. many
times almost as that of the woman,
took on an expression which bordered
upon sadness.
After a long period of cogitation the
woman spoke.
“With that huge black feather slant
ing like a sail in a gale,” said she,
“I’d look as if T were always blowing
one -way. Here, take it off. Put on the
velvet one with the rose buds. I like
that best. I won’t have any other.
Here's the money. Put my old hat in
a nice big box and send it. I will
wear this one home.”
The girl took off the feathered hat.
She replaced it by the hat of the rose
buds. She took the name and ad
dress down In a little notebook. Then
she went out into the larger room for
the change. As she passed him Jack
thought he detected in her eye a look
somewhat akin to pity.
The woman, again minutely exam
ining her reflections in the mirrors,
happened to take a glance at a few of
his faces pictured there.
“What's the matter with you?” she
asked, startled. "What makes you
look so woe-begone?”
He thoughtfully and silently picked
at a stray ravelling that had caught
on the lapel of his coat. He was upon
the eve of saying: "Since you select
ed your own hat and in all probability
started out with the full Intention of
selecting it. why in the name of com
mon sense did you bring me with you
at all?” but coming to the conclusion
that a discussion of any sort was
hardly worth entering into at so final
a stage of the game he said instead:
“Nothing Is the matter with me.
Nothing at all!”
Mrs. John W. Mackay, who now lives
abroad nearly all the time, and most
of the time in London, has a pair of
matched black pearl earrings -which
are said to be worth $50,000. She also
has a chain of diamonds nearly two
yards long, besides many other exceed
ingly valuable Jewels.
No one outside a clergyman's family,
says the New York Times, knows the
queer requests made of clergymen and
the odd things they sometimes feel
called upon to do for the benefit of
their parishioners. One of the queer
est on record was a proposal made
by one minister to a man in his parish
for the benefit of a widow who felt
some delicacy in taking the step her
self, but who was confident that the
result would be one that would be de
sirable all around. The minister was
one of the most cultivated of men, a
man who in his own circle was con
sidered a little reserved, and even dif
fident, but a man of distinguished man
ners and possessed of great delicacy.
He was making a pastoral call upon
a poor widow one day when she
broached the subject to him. She was
a woman who was assisted by the par
ish and she approached the minister
from an economic standpoint which she
thought might appeal to him. If she
was only married she would no longer
require charity from the parish, she
said, an<l then she unfolded her plan.
The man she had In view was a re
spectable working man, earning good]
SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY. DECEMBER 8. 1901.
wages, a middle-aged man who had
never been married, and she felt that
they would be happier together.
The clergyman demurred at first,
but the woman had an answer to all
his objections. She would make all
the necessary arrangements. She would
ask the prospective bridegroom to call
upon her, the clergyman could drop. In
as If by accident, and everything would
be well. Finally the clergyman con
sented. He dropped in, apparently by
accident, on the night named, and be
gan:
"It is strange, John, you have never
married,’’ he said. “You ought to have
a home of your own. Now, here is
Mrs. Blank, who would make you a
good wife,” etc., etc., while the widow
urged him on with frequent nods of
satisfaction. His appeal was received
with some surprise and the man de
parted. The next day a note came
from the w-idow which read briefly;
“Your w-ords done good.”
Matters were hurried after that and
it was only a few weeks before the
minister was called upon to marry the
pair, and to all appearances they lived
happily.
At a luncheon given recently to her
bridesmaids, says the New York Even
ing Post, the decorations were almost
entirely in bridal white, the green of
smilax being the only relief. A center
piece of w-hite bride roses was the ra
diating point for strands of smilax
carried to each cover, where they end
ed in a bunch of orange blossoms tied
with white ribbon. The menu cards
bore, each of them, a picture of the
bride set in medallion on the heavy
white card, which was decorated with
a spray of orange blossoms. Clear
glass candlesticks holding w-hite.
silk shades were set here and there on
the table, smilax twining around them,
and the ices were,served in white wed
ding be)ls.
A Darlington lady, says London
Answers, upon engaging anew cook,
was very careful to impress upon her
that no followers were allowed at that
establishment, and added that the last
cook had been discharged through
-breaking that rule. Shortly afterward,
suspecting that all w-as not right in
the culinary department, she paid a
surprise visit to the kitchen, and, upon
making a tour of inspection, was as
tounded to find a fine specimen of the
genus Atkins standing bolt upright in
the cupboard.
"Bridget! what is this man doing
here?" she asked.
“Faix, ma’am, he must have been
left there by your last cook,” said
Bridget.
Just now the maiden of 1902—the sec
ond debutante of the new century, says
the New York Tribune, is standing
w-ith anything but “reluctant feet” at
the portals of society, w-aiting to en
ter the new life which seems to her,
as she looks through the open door at
the glittering scene, so brilliant and
entrancing. She is 18 years old, and
this is her long looked forward to
"coming out” winter. Her fond papa
and mamma have provided her with
lovely clothes, and as far as they are
able will grant her every indulgence.
Dinners and dances are to be given in
her honor, she will be a privileged per
son, nothing in the way of irksome
duty will be required of her —no more
lessons, no more distasteful school
room tasks. All she has to do is to
be happy and to enjoy the good things
of life, which are generally showered
without stint or measure upon an
American "rosebud” during her first
season.
The difference thait is made in an av
erage New York household between a
boy and a girl of the same age Is most
apparent. One is a grub, the other a
butterfly. The grub, on leaving school
o college, is expected to look for a
p.ace Immediately. If the pay is prac
tically nothing, and the work hard,
paterfamilias tells him that must be
no deterrent. “That is how I began my
self,” says-comfortable papa, with com
placency. No late breakfasts for the
boys of the family. The butterflies may
lie abed as late as they choose after a
dance, but the grubs must be down
town at their woik by 9 o clock. Certes
these maidens have a good time of it
while they are young, and it is to be
hoped that they appreciate the indul
gence that is shown to them, and are
invariably good humored and agreea
ble, bringing-innocent'gayety into their
homes, while not neglecting to carry
with thorn into the world kindness, un
selfishness and generosity, which may
be practiced just as well in a ballroom
as anywhere else. If there is a back
gound to all this —If mamma hopes
and believes that her daughter will
make a good match and papa opens his
pursestrings in order to give his girls
a matrimonial chance, the happy lit
tle butterflies are not told of it, and, of
course, never think of such things as
they fly about in the gay sunshiny
world, fee lng that for a c„uple of years
at least it is their perogative to be
happy.
The following are extracts from a
book by Rev. E. J. Hardy, entitled,
“Concerning Marriage.” It Is publish
ed by A. Wessels Company. The ex
tracts appeared in the New York
World:
In every department of life there is
humor, and nowhere more than in
maters connected with matrimony.
Take, for example, the ways in which
people propose to each other. If any
chance hundred of Benedicks could be
Every woman loves to think of the
time when a soft little body, all her
own, will nestle In her bosom, fully
satisfying the yearning which lies In
the heart of every good woman. But
yet there Is a black cloud hovering
about the pretty picture In her mind
which fills her with terror. The
dread of childbirth takes away much
of the joy of motherhood. And yet it
need not be so. For sometime there
ha3 been upon the market, well-known
and recommended by physicians, a
liniment called
Mosher’s Friend
which makes childbirth as simple and
easy as nature Intended It. It Is a
strengthening, penetrating liniment,
which the skin readily absorbs. It
gives the muscles elasticity and vigor,
prevents sore breasts, morning sick
ness and the loss of the girlish figure.
An intelligent mother In Butler, Pa.,
says: “Were I to need Mother's Friend
again, I would obtain 0 bottlea if I had
to pay $5 per bottle for It.”
Get Mother’s Friend at the drug
store. $1 per bottle.
THL BRADFIELD RIGULATOR CO..
Atlanta, Ga.
Write for our free Illustrated book, “ Before
iiauy is bom."
■ r' 1 ‘ '*■ S'. a- Ijt
'. v *
iwXre&Mi \-v ■* fIWF
fc I
compelled to write down a perfectly
truthful account of how they proposed
to their wives, or how those ladles
went half way to meet them, we
should have a chapter of human na
ture full of humor of the unconscious
kind.
* * •
I have heard of people marrying
when only 20 or even only 18 years
of age. Well, there is no use talking
to people of that kind; they have not
come to years of discretion; they are
infants in the eyes of the law, and
fools in those of every sensible person.
When I see people of tender years like
this marrying I always think of one
stock of sweet pea trying to support
another.
* • *
Certainly if a young man will smoke
the best cigars, and will give expensive
drinks to every fool who claps him on
the back and calls him “old man,’’ he
cannot afford to marry, because he
would not deny himself small and not
very elevating luxuries for the sake
of gaining that greatest of all luxuries,
a good wife.
* • •
A certain philosopher said that we
should marry early and often. This
advice cannot be followed if we wait
till all the preliminaries that have been
enumerated in reference to character,
health, money, age and so forth are
quite satisfactory. Rather we shall
have to enroll ourselves the disciples
of another philosopher who said, “If
young, do not marry yet; if old, do not
marry at all.”
• • •
There are persons who never seem
to realize that love has a sacred and
a serious side, that it is more a mod
ern fair one’s jest, more than a sub
ject for fun and banter. When they
become engaged these frivolous people
will not put aside their inordinate love
of flirtation. The results are jealousy,
tilting, breach of promise of marriage.
There are girls who might be describ
ed as having been “extensively engag
ed.”
• • •
It is just as well when engaged peo
ple do not live too near each other.
Lately, talking of a certain young man.
I happened to mention that he came
over every day to take tea with his
fiancee. The comment of an experienc
ed woman who heard the remark was:
“Every day? How dreadful; that is
as bad as being married!” Still, if peo
ple are going to tire of each ether it
is better that they should do so before
rather than after marriage.
• • •
Some engaged people quarrel almost
as much as if they were married. This
is bad, for It forms the habit of nag
ging and trying to get the last word.
It has been said that engaged people
speak to each other with their eyes
and with their mouths only when
they are married. We hope that they
do, and that some of them will not
use their tongues too much afterward.
The first year of married life is more
important than any or perhaps than
all years that follow.
• * •
Under the pillow of Washington Irv
ing. when dying, there were found a
lock of hair and miniature. Who will
say that a man or a woman ought to
marry who treasures up such memo
rials and thinks of what might have
been? Some have never found their
other selves, or circumstances prevent
ed the junction of these selves; and
which is more honorable, a life of lone
liness or a loveless marriage?
• • •
At what age are bachelors and t
maids generally called “old?” This de-
very much upon themselves. A
woman is no older than she looks, and
a man no older than he feels. The
fact is people bring upon themselves
the appellation of "old bachelor” and
“old maid.” Asa rule, it is not given
to any one who retains a well-regulat
ed mind, a disposition to enjoy sim
ple pleasures, sympathy with the suf
fering of others, and fortitude to sup- |
port his or her own plans.
People who have their way to make
in society cannot afford to be badly
dressed, and they must be good listen
ers. or if they talk themselves, they
should never be long and never wrong.
“Mamma,” asked a little girl, "what is
classical music?” “Oh, don't you know?
It is the kind you have to like whether
you like it or not.” Socially ambi
tious people cultivate this kind of pli
ability. To have a taste or will or
soul of one's own is “bad form.”
• • •
Boys take up with any “good chaps”
they come across, but even little girls
choose their companions upon the most
approved system of grown-up snob
bery. When, a few years later, a. girl
of this kind gives herself In marriage,
she generally does so to the best man
she can get from the point of view
of social ambition, ahd If there be any
desire to get on in him, she tries to
drives her lord, ala Lady Macbeth,
Into the highest place.
• • •
We may ask whether it is not a
higher aociat ambition to endeavor to
adorn that state of life into which God
has called us than to wish to push
ourselves where we are not wanted,
and where there are more kicks, or, at
least, snubs, than half-pennies.
* • •
tinder a glass case In Bethnal Green
Museum may be seen a sort of scien
tific bill of fare. It Is the amount of
food proved by experiments on convicts
and others to be necessary to keep an
adult person In perfect health for twen
ty-four hours. Some of our gourmands
would think It painfully little, and yet
anything more than this must do harm,
on the principle that what we leave
at table often does more good than
what we take, and that the man who
eats little eats much, for he does not
dig his grave with his teeth, but lives
longer to eat.
• • *
Some people live at a pace that gives
no time for even the most sacred du
ties of life. There are womeD, for in*
A Grateful Mother
Danville, Va., January 5, 1901.
Vine of Cardui has done everything for me my heart could wish. 1 have been married five years and
in less than four years I have bad four miscarriages. Fifteen months ago I began using Vine of Cardui.
Now I have a fine baby girl seven weeks old. I wish I could write my thankfulness to you for your
wonderful medicine. Mrs. V. L. AVRETTE.
Organic barrenness is exceptionally rare. There are few cases which would not yield readily to
proper treatment, but disappointed wives too seldom take the course Mrs. Averette so happily chose.
It was a severe test for Wine of Cardui to cure a woman who had suffered four disappointments in
four years.
WINECARMJI *
is the medicine to stimulate the organs of motherhood to healthy action. The Wine relieved Mrs.
Avrette simply by reinforcing her weakened organs. To heal and strengthen the weakened organs of
every wife who longs for a baby would bless thousands of homes with children. Every expectant
mother should take Wine of Cardui to strengthen the female organs, then miscarriages will be impos
sible. For every kind of female disorder Wine of Cardui is the medicine to take. No medicine has
done so much for the women of America. Ask your druggist for a dollar bottle of Wine of Cardui if
you are troubled with weakness.
For adrlo* and literature. addr*M, giving •jnnptom*, "The I*dte’ Advltorr
Department”, The Chattanooga Medlolue Company, Chattanooga. Tenn
stance, who prefer all kinds of unsat
isfying excitements to the oldest, the
most useful, and, upon the.whole, the
happiest profession—that of mother
hood. Either they have no children at
all or they give any they into
the exclusive care of servants. They
never hear their evening prayer and
tuck them into bed, for at that hour
they are invariably engaged dressing
for some form of dissipation.
* * *
Are our feelings of honor as sensi- 1
tive as they were in days when wounds
and death were the consequences of
dishonorable acts? Have we "that
chastity of honor which feels a stain
like a wound?”
Few of the many compliments show
ered on Miss Helen Gould have afford
ed her more pleasure than one paid
during the recent Evacuation day pa
rade in New York city by the mili
tary organization known as the Old
Guard. A few days previously the
officers of the guard wrote to Miss
Gould requesting permission to give
her a marching salute on Evacuation
day. The required permission wan
readily granted. Miss Gould hardly
knowing what the honor meant and
not dreaming that so far as the officers
were aware no such honor had ever
been paid to a woman In this country.
The band leader had written a piece
of music which he named “The Helen
Gould Quickstep,” and it was this
composition which suggested the idea
of the salute. Nothing was said about
the matter after Miss Gould’s consent
had been secured lest a crowd might
assemble in front of her residence, no
toriety of any kind being her pet ab
horrence.
Darkness had fallen and Fifth ave
nue had been driven free from car
riages and pedestrians by the storm,
when at 5:30 o'clock the music of the
band down the thoroughfare told of
the approach of the soldiers. From
Miss Gould's front drawing-room a
brilliant light streamed down from the
window, from which the curtains had
been drawn back. The rest of the
house was in darkness. When only a
short distance from the house the band
burst into "My Country. ’Tis of Thee.”
! and almost at the first note Miss Gould
appeared at the window. She was
dressed in white and stood in the broad
light, with the folds of the parted lace
curtains on each side of her. Then
came the quickstep. As the drum
major marching ahead caught sight of
that figure in white he gave a mighty
flourish to his baton and, bringing it
to a salute, held it rigid under his
lowering bearskin. Then, too, came
a command and every sword was up
lifted and pointed downward and every
rifle held across breasts, the “arms
port” of the marching salute. Smiling
brightly, Miss Gould waved a hand
kerchief to the marching men, timing
its rise aj>d fall to the measure of
the band. As the last file passed she
drew back and a maid drew tight both
curtain and shade.
The typical American rooking chair,
says the New York Tribune, is disap
pearing. and before long will probably
be an extinct species. There are, to
be sure, rockers nowadays in plenty,
but they no more resemble the sway
ing, cradlelike lounging chairs of long
ago than the modern merchantmen
resemble the stately ships of that time.
Nothing shows the passing of the old
fashioned rocking chair more than the
difference in the appearance of the ve
randa of a country house now and sev
eral decades ago.
“I can remember as If it were yes
terday driving up to this very piaz
za thirty years ago.” said the mother
of a married daughter as they were
calling together at the house of a
neighbor. “I wonder what poor Mrs.
Worthington would have said if she
had seen all of that handsome furni
ture and those Turkish rugs out of
doors? It would have given her nerv
ous prostration, for she never let a ray
of sunshine touch even the Indoor car
pets and upholstery. Out on the porch,
as we called it in those days, there
were only six large Southern rocking
chairs, placed at regular Intervals, and
on the day I speak of they were filled
by the women of the house and a cou
ple of guests. They were all rocking
as hard as they could rock. There
was an Englishman with me, one of
the secretaries of the legation from
Washington who was stopping with
us, and he burst out laughing as he
saw them. 'How deliciously American!’
he exclaimed, and it made me very
angry, but it did look funny.
“That evening after dinner we went
out, as usual, on the piazza, and I took
my customary seat in a big rocking
chair, and began to rock to and fro
as I talked, and then suddenly remem
bered the criticism. ‘Do the English
women never rock?' I asked. 'Never!'
he replied, and that is the reason they
have not got such pretty feet and such
high Insteps as American women Have.
All American women rock, and they
all have pretty feet, therefore it must
be the motion that arches the instep.
“Of course. I forgave him for the
criticism when he combined It with a
compliment to our feet, and I really
should not wonder If there were not
something in it, for American feet
have been growing steadily larger
since the old rocking chair days. You
wear two sizes larger than I do, and
your Ethel actually wears sevens!”
A Ocnerom Offer.
“Now. who will furnish the lemonade
for a Reading Club?” cried a merry
maid.
"I’ll give the lemons," said eager Sue:
“I’ll throw in the sugar," said President
Prue;
•Til hunt up glasses," said Sister Mary;
“The ice for me,” said the Secretary.
"And I—" said the Jackson’s youngest i
daughter.
“Will give you every drop of the wa
ter." Belle Moses.
—Very True.—Sunny outh-”De
world owes every man a living.” Brake
O'Day—"Yes; but it costs more ter ,
collect It dan wot It's worth."—Puck. 1
NURSERY TALES.
The Adventure, of Refer and Ellen.
By Gertrude Smith.
(Copyright, 1901. by Gertrude Smith.)
I.—THE BIRTHDAY SURPRISE.
Peter was 6 years old and dear lit
tle Ellen, was 4.
Peter's birthday came on Tuesday
and Ellen's birthday came on Thurs
day, but they had their birthday treat
on the very same day.
When they came down to breakfast
on Wednesday morning their mamma
said: \
"O, my dears, this is the day for
your birthday treat. We will open your
little red banks right away now, before
breakfast, and see how much money
you have.”
All the year papa and mamma and
grandpa and grandma ana all their
uncles and aunties nd friends dropped
pennies and nickels and dimes and dol
lars Into Peter's bank and Ellen's
bank, and when the birthdays came
the banks were opened and the money
was counted. And Peter said:
“1 know what lam going to buy. I
am going to buy a little white pony.”
Papa laughed. ,
"Ha. ha, Peter! It takes a great
deal of money to buy a pony!”
And little Ellen clapped her hands
and danced around the room, and
said:
"I know- what I shall buy with my
birthday money. I shall buy a pet
tame monkey, and a wonderful par
rot that talks.”
And mamma laughed.
"Ellen, you darling child, do you
not know it would take a. great deal
of money to buy a pet tame monkey
and a parrot?"
And Peter said:
"Once, when grandpa did not know
I was In the room, 1 saw him put a
J 5 gold piece in our bank.”
Mamma went out of the room, and
w-hen she came back she brought the
two little red banks, and put them on
the table, and said:
“Now papa will open the banks, and
we’ll all count the money.”
And grandpa came in Just then, and
he said:
“Hurrah! Peter is 6 and Ellen Is
4, and we'll all count the birthday
money!”
And grandma came in Just then, and
she said:
“Open the little banks quick, and
we’ll all count the birthday money!”
And papa took a little key out of his
pocket, and said:
"Now, Peter, open yonr brown eyes
wide, and Ellen, open your blue eyes
wide, and be prepared for a splendid
surprise!"
And papa turned the little key in
one little bank, and then in the other,
and O, O. O! out tumbled the money,
all over the table! Dollars were there,
and dimes and nickels and pennies,
and, yea, there were gold pieces, too—
two bright $5 gold pieces in each little
bank.
And Feter opened his brown eyes
wide—he was too surprised to speak.
And Ellen opened her blue eyes wide
—she was too surprised to speak.
And papa counted the money. “Five.
10, 15, 20, 25. 30! Thirty dollars for
Peter. Hurrah and hurrah! Twenty
five dollars for Ellen!”
And little Ellen danced about the
room, and laughed and clapped her
hands, and said:
“Now I can buy my pet tame mon
key and a wonderful parrot that
talks! ”
And Peter Jumped up and down and
said:
“And may I buy a little white pony,
grandpa? May I buy a pony?"
And grandpa laughed, and said:
“Ha, ha! Yes, you can buy a pony,
and a little red saddle, too!"
And papa said:
“We will go right away and buy your
pony, Peter, the minute we have fin
ished our breakfast."
And after breakfast papa and Peter
and Ellen all went hand in hand down
the beautiful road to a little white
house near the river.
And papa said:
“The man who lives here has a little
white pony to sell, Peter.”
And In a moment a very tall man
caine to the door of the little white
house, and when he saw Peter and El
len he laughed, and said:
“Ha! ha! I know why you have come
to see me. You have come to buy my
Baby Louise!”
And little Ellen opened her blue eyes
very wide, and said:
“No. sir; we didn't come to buy a
baby; we came to buy a pony!”
And the tall man laughed.
“Ha. ha! My pony’s name is Baby
Louise, you dear little boy!”
And Ellen said:
“Why, I'm not a little boy; I'm a lit
tle girl, you very tall man!"
And ,the tall man laughed, and said:
"O. hi, ho! Is that so? Well, you are
dressed Just like your brerther; I sup
posed you were a little boy!”
And Ellen said:
“Pete hasn’t lovely long curls like
mine, and I only wear overalls when
I play. Little girls wear overalls when
they play.”
And the tall man laughed, and said:
“Why, yes, so they do. Now come on
and we’ll all go out to the barn .and
see the little white pony.”
And they all went out to a little white
barn, and there was a little white
peny! And Peter said:
“O, you dear little pony! May I
buy that pony, and have it to keep,
papa?”
And papa said:
"Yes; this is your birthday present,
my dear little son, and she is a beauty.
too!”
And Ellen threw her arms around the
little pony's neck, and said:
“O, Bsby Louise, I will love you, too,
and I'm glad you are coming to live
with us and be our own little pony!”
And Peter and Ellen rode home On
the little white pony, and papa walked
beside them.
And all the morning Peter and Ellen
played with Baby Louise, and little
Ellen was so happy she forgot all
about her own birthday present! And
when they were at the dinner table
grandpa laughed, and said:
“Where is that monkey that little
Ellen was ging to buy with her birth
day money, and where is that wonder
ful parrot that talks?”
And Ellen clapped her hands, and
said:
“Or grandpa, I was so happy with
Baby Louise I forgot all about my
monkey and parrot!”
And papa said:
“Well, after dinner you may ride
Baby Louise to town, and I wiP ride
on my big black horse, and weTl buy
a monkey and a parrot for Ellen.”
And right away after dinner papa
got on his big black horse, and Peter
and Ellen got on Baby Louise, and
away they rode to town.
And F.lien did not wear his overalls
to town but a beautiful little scarlet
dress, and no one thought that she
was a little boy this time, but every
one said:
“O, what a lovely little girl that is
on that cunning little pony!”
And when they came to the town
they rode to an animal store and
bought a . pet tame monkey, and then
they went to a bird store and bought
a beautiful parrot.
And Ellen said:
“I’m Just a little bit afraid of that
monkey, and I'm a very little afraid
of that parrot, too'."
And the parrot put his head on on*
side, and looked at Ellen and said:
“La, child, you don’t say!”
And everyone laughed. “Ha, ha!
O, what a clever parrot!”
And Peter carried the monkey and
papa carried the parrot, and Peter and
Ellen got on the pony and papa got
on his horse, and they started home.
And Peter said:
“You may call my pony part youtr
little Ellen, because you love him so.”
And Ellen said:
“You may call my monkey and par
rot part yours, little Peter.”
And papa said:
“That is right. I am glad you are
going to share your birthday gifts,
dear children."
And the parrot put her head on one
side and said:
“That's right, that’s right! Here
we go! Here we go!"
And O, how Peter and Ellen
laughed!
MRS. BARTON’S KERRY.
A Pioneer in the Woman Movement
Ignorant of Her Clulin to Dlstiae
tlou.
New York, Dec. 6.—Effa Ann Barton
of Oswego, N. Y., having run a steam
ferryboat across the Susquehanna riv
er for more than a quarter of a cen
tury, may certainly lay claim to be
ing a pioneer in the woman movement,
though that would undoubtedly be the
last thing she would think of.
Without in the least knowing it, and
without having the slightest Idea that
she was doing anything to “help along
the cause," she has for nearly three
decades been an object lesson for the
Woman’s Rights Party. Mrs. Barton
found a work close at hand. She took
hold of it, and through long and dreary
years followed it patiently and faith
fully. never dreaming that she was
working in unison with those who
had the interests of woman near their
hearts.
Thirty years or more ago Mr. Rens
selaer Barton bought the ferry and in
vented two flat iron boats propelled
by an engine for carrying passengers
with greater speed and comfort. At
first the men folk of the family ran
the ferry, but as they made, or, at
least, saved no money out of it, Mrs.
Barton herself took hold of it and
speedily made it a success,
For the half of a lifetime she has
stood manfully at her post, early and
late, never falling to answer the signal
from either shore. She feeds the en
gine and cleans and cares for It with
out help. During the earlier years of
her work her hudsband used to "spell
her” occasionally, that she might have
needed rest, but usually he claimed
to have been warned through a dream
that he would meet his death on the
ferryboat; after that, so long as he
lived, he refused to set foot on board.
Mrs. Barton's face Is so lined and
seamed from exposure to wind and
svn that It Is hard to Judge of her
age. but she must be near the Biblical
limit. Her square Jaw and firmly set
mouth are indications of a rugged
character, and If she Is in a talkative
mood her quaint conversation is very
Interesting. She utterly declined to
allow me to take her picture, although
she willingly gave her consent to hav
ing the ferryboat photographed. “I
ain't going to let anybody have a pic
ture to point at when I am dead and
gone and say, "That's the old woman
who used to run the ferry.* " was the
way she worded her refusal.
The old woman In the ferryboat
wears a loosely made, short calico
gown, with her face almost concealed
by a great gingham sunbonnet. When
not carrying passengers she sits in
an old chair Inside the ferry house and
knits the hours away. Effa Ann Bar
ton Is a unique and picturesque figure
In the history of that part of the coun
try. and withal a woman whose hon
esty and Integrity of character are
spoken of with respect and admiration
by all who know her.
Laura B. Starr.
—The Earl of Caithness is a neigh
bor of the President at Medora, North
Dakota, near which the Roosevelt
ranch Is located. Lord Caithness, who
In North Dakota prefers to be known
as Mr. John Sinclair, lives on hls farm
In Nelson county, where he U Very pop
i ular.
23