Newspaper Page Text
A Letter to a
Wronged Wife
By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
,'oryright, 19IS. by Ameriean-Jour■
nal-Exuminer.)
B ELIEVE me, dear madam, the
woman who ia an absolutely
wronged wife does not ask any
for sympathy or advice, because
he wound is too d*eep to be probed by
words, and it is hidden from sight.
T! i r only the surface scratch which
rs open to the gaze of every eye.
Tou say your trouble has destroyed
our nervous system and made you
-ritable, cross and irresponsible in
■ our actions.
Are you quite sure you were not
fflieted with some of these peculiar
's before you were wrongedV
There was once a wife who believed;
husband to be loyal and true iu
, «ex sense; but she continuously
l agged him about small matters.
s . was Irritable and faultfinding,
i . she was a poor housekeeper and
ar.less in her personal habits. Life
aider the same roof with her was
purgatory.
Suddenly, when both husband and
■ iif were middle aged, she found
i i infatuated with another woman.
• n she lifted her voire and cried
, tli&t she had been such a good
it «o faithful, so self-sacrificing,
- ... voted, so loving—and here was
let reward.
And no one could make her believe
s::.- had been the one who hewed the
rood, and shaped and built her own
cross.
Sometimes the absolutely gopd and
Te IS neglected and misused.
The most adorable woman the writer
if tills evert kmv was a misused and
neglected wife.
Every Indignity.
Sue had suffered every indignity
from a small-souled brute
.,f a man. Vet she had made her
, . a heaven for her children, and
she iiad developed the most wonder-
f i poise and strength of character
, :i made her the admiration of all
vho knew her.
\fter her children tveTe grown, and
homes of their own. she left the
in a:, but she had believed it to be for
• . best to save her children the
. ’trial of a domestic earthquake
■tvnilc the\ were small. And no one
r\ f r heard her mention her husband,
save with dignity. While a woman*
remains under a man’s roof she
she ; d follow the old saying:
If you are going to PUT UP with
situation, then SHUT UP.” If you
find the situation impossible, then
GET OUT; and when it is necessary,
talk; but only when it is necessary.
if you find yourself obliged to re
main under the roof of the man who
has wronged you. try and occupy
yourself every hour of the day with
• .:k and duties and distractions
which keep you from brooding. Take
an interest in your personal appear-
am ; surprise him by growing in at-
•activeness, and increase your circle
of friends.
Don't Look the Martyr.
! >o not for an hour let him see you
looking like a martyr.
Female martyrs are never attrae-
i \ to you. Keep busy, and never
allow vourself to be led into quar
rels.
Think about others as much as you
ran and as little as possible of your
own sorrows.
Sorrow well borne is a friend and
teacher, imparting a sense of kin
ship and sympathy. Put away any
idea that you have been specially se-
leotcd by fate for a crushing woe.
Consider, rather, that von have been
m; Jo one of God’s intimate family by
being shown into the chamber of
sorrow.
Fool yourself kin to all the sorrow-
■ tig world, and eftst out bitterness.
Ml this T say to you knowing you
I ;t\>- not reached a state of suffering
whi 'li paralyzes the faculties and
makes Words useless. For if you had
'•"J could not have asked for sym
pathy or spoken of your trouble. The
woman who really loves and has
really been wronged can only talk
with God.
“WITCHCRAFT”
Copyright, 1913, by American-.!ourna.
Examiner.
©
By Nell Brinkley
Daysey Mayme
And Her Folks
By FRANCES L GARSIDE.
HUSK wb<
of angel
pie ton. *
can heu:
A COMMON enough court trial,
even in these, our enlight
ened times.
THE ROBED JUSTICE, a much
injured, woeful and wrathful young
man whom anybody can see has
been conjured “scandalous;” be
witched into lightheadedness;
circed into following will-o’-the-
wisps: spellbound by an enchanting
eye.
THE OFFENDER, a soft, sweet
creature—perhaps the saving, busy
girl who hikes out gallantly to a
shop or an office desk every morn
ing, blue-skied or rainy—perhaps
the little aristocrat who labors at
riding in Grant Park o’ mornings
and serving tea afternoons in a
boudoir, whose amphorafvases three
peach trees were flayed of their
pinky blossoms to fill. Anyway, it’s
a creature that anybody can see is
a WITCH from the last feathery
curl on the crown of her head to the
simp of her ’broldered slipper.
THE COUNSEL FOR THE DE
FENSE, a small fat person with a
powerful tongue and eloquent eyes;
with white wings that arc found
sometimes to be slightly singed,
who ALWAYS wins liis case. He
never proves that his client isn’t a
witch—that isn’t it—-but he always
gets a light sentence—oh! kisses or
something like that. A thousand
or so!
have seen the paintings
by Daysey Mayme Ap-
cleverly done that one
the swish of their silk
petticoats us they fly through the sky
need not for a moment imagine that
painting is tie- sum total of her talents.
Her versatility is boundless, her re-
- ircefnliMss without limitation, and
i her faith knows no disquieting depress
ion.
“I never,” she says with a fine show
of .spirit, “permit iftyself to become dis-
I couraged, finding stimulus for a faint-
| ing spirit in the women’s magazines. I
! know that if all else failed I could read
| these splendid articles on remunerative
occupations for girls, and start out a
any time with determination and a
' pickle and in a very brief period 1
| would be owning and running an im
I menee pickle factory.”
She had read in one of these Pillars
i -if the Home an article on how to make
a quilt that would he such a clever
imitation of one of the kind made by
' our great-grandmothers that its value
I would be priceless.
I “With an outlay of five rents for
thread,” the splendid article read, “and
ten cents for bright colored calico, a
girl can make a quilt that will command
thousands of dollars.”
It sounded good, and Daysey Alayjn*
borrowed the money from her mother,
laid ;he foundation of the, family for
tune on u dry goods counter, and began
worje.
She selected a pattern of a bright
purple pumpkin trailing its leaves of
pale blue across a while field, with a.
big pink sunflower in the center, Show
ing that disregard of the colors of na
ture that proved our foremothers were
I so courageous.
She sewed many da\ s. leaving the
! calls of other duties for her mother
I to answer, and at last the quilt was
done, and Daysey Mayme exhibited it
to her family and friends with as happy
a countenance as’if a tub of honey had
been upset on her soul.
True, she found no buyer*, but her
great resourcefulness at once devised »
means whereby it may become a source
of perpetual income to her family.
“I will hire it out,” she said proudly,
“to cover what threatens to be a lugu
brious deathbed. When filled with
mournful thoughts over parting with
| the dear • i:» # left behind; when tor
mented with a fear of what the future
ma\ have in store, the dying one will
see my quilt and forget all else. He
' will at once be seized with mirth and
go dancing into the next world with his
crown on one ear end filled with the
wildest of merriment.
•If there is any one among you who
fears a lugubrious deathbed ami who
will name a date the quilt may be
rented at a nominal fee."
On the Other-hand.
The geography class was in cession,
and the teacher pointed a finger to the
man on the classroom wall.
“Here, on tine hand, we have the
far-strotcliing country of Russia
i \\Tilie,“ she asked, looking over her
I pupils and settling on one small boy
J at the end of the class, “what do we
see on the other hand?”
Willie, hopeless with fright, hesitated
| a moment, and then answered, “Warts.
What the Lecturer Said
Snap Shots
By LILLIAN LAUFERTY.
•invfb, a fancy, a glimmer, a glance.
"1 Life is a bit of Illusion;
i you'll find that its changes will
load you a dance,
"h ty’s self will trim up and en
hance;
As in change you move on, why you
ve to advance:
Dull Sameness—I drink your con
fusion !
maiden musings.
- flic one real continuous per-
Dr-mar. On its program you will find
1 break between present and past—or
Ui ure and present.
■ non, from sight m> completely
u the world will never dream
half—
:V' strong box securely,
' 11 it on the lid and laugh.
—Selected.
s a matter of extremes: so
>■* > 'in are most particular about
i .xtrenie neatness, extreme suita-
• ai ‘d extreme good taste!
Proof of Value
^ the time-tested, world-tried, home
eniedy—proof of its power to relieve
'luickly, safely, sorely, the head-
the sour taste, the poor
J| lr !* a yd the fatigue of biliousness
be found in every dose of
BEECHAMS
PILLS
-■ id ,„r,wh«r,. In box.., 10c„ 25,.
KODAKS
“The Best Flnlshinn and Enlpra-
Inii That Can Be Produced.”
Kastman Films ami com
plete stock amateur supplies,
‘c. , , ice for out-of-t^wn f.istri,i-rs.
for Catalog and Price List.
A. K. HAWKES CO. K 0 ° E D P * T K
— ^Whitehall Ft.. Atlanta. Ga.
C OUSIN ; FANNIE felt too ill to
get up last Friday morning and
mother became ularuied—quite
needlessly, L think—and sent for Dr.
Tucker. "When 1 recall that 1 have
often stayed in bed mornings because
of severe headaches and that mother
has never even thought of calling a
doctor for me I am forced to wonder
why she should have been so much
more exercised over Cousin Fannie
than over her own daughter.
When Dr. Tucker saw Fannie he said
that he knew . she had been working
too hard. He questioned her persist
ently until she told him that he day
before she had become fatigued because
of some unusual sweeping and the
polishing of the extra leaves of our din
ing table, which were so dusty and bad
ly scarred that even oil and floor wax
rubbed in scarcely made them present
able.
“Kindly inform me,” he said in that
brusque and dictatorial way of his “why
it was necessary for you to wear your
self out with that work?”
Cousin Fannie only sighed, and as
the doctor seemed determined to have
an answer. I said with dignity: “My
club, the Dlx Amies, met here last night,
and according to our rules we gathered
around the long bare table. Our makl
was out and, of course. Cousin Fannie
and I had to make all the preparations
for the meeting.”
A Great Chance.
Though Cousin Fannie insisted that
she was merely tired, Dr. Tucker or
dered her to keep her bed for several
days and instructed me to see that noth
ing interfered with her securing a com
plete rest.
“By the way, Miss Lucile,“ he said,
as he was leaving. “Mrs. Van Rens
selaer is going to have a drawing room
talk by Gregory, the famous English
psychologist, next Monday afternoon on
‘The Dangers of Unselfishness.’ l be
lieve you would enjoy it. If you like I’ll
ask Mrs. Van Rensselaer, who is an old
friend of mine, for a card for you.”
My first impulse was to decline the
card, for the subject 61 the'lecturer
did not appeal to me However, it
seemed a pity to miss such an excel
lent opportunity of going to the ex
clusive Mrs. Van Rensselaer's beauti
ful house. I accepted graciously. Af
terward 1 was glad that I had accepted,
for the costumes 1 saw at the lecture
were quite the smartest I had seen this
spring, one charming gown gave me
a splendid idea for a frock fur myself,
w hich we can easily make at home out
of a lovely old soft lavender brocade
that grandmother has had put awa>
ever sir.ee the Civil War. I think it will
divert Cousin Fannie to have some in
teresting work.
T . \ • •
and 1 was deei»\v Im. cessed with hb
tmer.i of the subject. He mail -
tained that t t *o particuia
credit due to the unselfish member v., •
is to be found in nearly every famil.
group. Mother is everlastingly remind
ing me of Cousin Fannie’s unselfishness
and trying to burden me with a sense
of gratitude that 1 now see should not
be demanded of me.
What He Said.
The lecturer said that the unselfish
ones are as a rule blank pages at the
beginning, and that their character
istics are produced and developed by
the selfishness of the more decided
people about them. They' are always at
the disposal of others. They are
drained for sympathy from morning
till night. They think other people’s
thoughts, about other people’s trou
bles.’ until they actually have no
thought of their own to think, and
they' lose all individuality and origi
nality. By their unvarying unselfish
ness they* become a menace in the
family by making others selfish in
their dependence.
As I listened to the speaker I real
ized the danger f had been in. Dr.
Tucker must have thought that 1
greatly needed that lecture or lie
would not have troubled to get me
an invitation. Ho has seen when he
has come to the house from time to
time that 1 am constantly giving up
my' own plans and wishes for others.
He doubtless agrees with the lecturer
that such self-abnegation is 'inimical
to the development of character.
As I left the Van Rensselaer*’ house
1 fairly trembled to think how dread
ful it would be if my capacity for en
joyment should be atrophied. I felt
that T must at once begin to gratify
my taste for pleasure. T had intended
to buy Cousin Fannie some flowers
and then go home and pass the even
ing reading to her, as mother had
hinted that Cousin Fannie was dis
pirited, but it now occurred to me
that for her sake as well as mine it
would be much better for me to seek
some amusement,.
1 went over to La Salle Street, In
tending to g-i to father’s office and
coax him to stay downtown and take
me to one of the hotels to dinner.
However, as I was passing the build
ing where Carl Bates’ office is he
came out of the door.
“Why, Lucile. he said, “aren’t you
lost?”
I laughingly told him my plan and
he said gayly: “Let me be a father
to you this evening. We’ll dine down
town and go to the theater, too, if
you’ll pardon inv business clothe
Come, let's telephone your mother.
Of course 1 agreed, for I wasn't at
all sure that lather would stay down-
own He has such a stubborn pref-
•rence for I -me dinners. < 'arl and I
'*ad a delightful evening and I was?
iwfully relieved to find that lr.y
•aparity for enjoyjnenu had suffered
fio injury.
Chinks Sometimes.
She Ah, to trriage corUrrs such peace i
i mind!
’If- Yes, knew' mort married men
e for ever ,ct.t*pg it fj oiu their wives.
She- Wha... p»-»v?
He—Piece of mind.
Advice to the
Lovelorn
HUNTING A HUSBAND By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER tt
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
A DISAPPOINTMENT.
TV EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I wish you would jUeuse ex- 4
plain the following for me. I re
ceived it in a letter from a
y oung man and would like to know
what he meant: “May I some time
tell you about the air castle that
is about to be dismantled? I fear
this week will end such foolishness,
if this be the true status of such
things.” ROBERTA.
I think he has been disappointed, and
wants to tell you about it. He built
an air castle, and realizes that it has
no foundation in fact, and*must be torn
down.
.lust what that air castle concerned
Love or Fame or Business I can not
surmise.
NOT NECESSARILY.
1 \ EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
1 have been corresponding with
a woman of about twenty-six, dur
ing the last year. I am nineteen
and a high school boy. and feel very
much attached to her. She writes
to me about once a month, and al
ways asks me to tell her what I am
doing. Don't you think It is all
right for her to wrile to me. and do
you think she is very much inter
ested in me? R. N.
She may be interested in you as she
would be in the welfare of a young
brother, and you must not suppose it is
anything else. Fur this reason: You
are only nineteen, »/■ schoolboy, and
should be interested in your studies to
the exclusion of all thoughts of love
Household Suggestions
On a cold, wet night every one likes
to see a blazing fire, but this generally
means heavy' coal bills. A good plan is
to place a quantity of chalk at the back
of each grate, in equal proportion to the
coals. This throws out a great heat
and lasts quite a long time It always
pays in the end to buy good cant, for
not only does it make a clearer fire, but
it leaves fewer ashes. A handful of
common salt thrown into the fire occa
sionally makes a cheerful blaze and
lessens the consumption of the coal.
Velveteen which lias served its pur
pose as a dress or blouse should lie pre
served and made Into polishing cloth,
in this connection velveteen Is almost
as good us a chamois leather, and can
not only t>e used for obtaining a tin. 1
polish on satir.w< d and mahogany fur
niture. but as a means of brightening
»v r and plated good?. When soiled
th velveteen may be succe.-.sfully
cleaned by washing it in a soapy lather.
T HE wedding was over. Amid a
flatter of excitement among the
sentimental lrridesinaids. and
much showing off of authority by tlie
best man and ushers, Robert Maynard
and liis newly-made wife had left the
church, and the vestibule was now’ full
of chattering, laughing guests, waiting
for their carriages and automobiles.
Beatrice had sat with Helen during
the service. The widow had heard the
minister’s words without emotion; she
had watched the progress of the cere
mony' dry-eyed, while Helen wept co
piously' “because it was all so lovely.”
She had declined, with ill-concealed
Impatience, Helen’s offer to take her to
the reception at the Damerel house in
her carriage. She had come to the wed
ding only' to please Miss Damerel, Be
atrice said. She did not intend to be
bored further by having to say anything
In the way of congratulations to the <at
present) happy pair. That sort of thing
was wearisome to all but those closely
concerned—none of whom would miss
her.
She was making her way through the
vestibule of the church, intent on get
ting out and away from the crowd as
soon as possible, when she heard her
fuftue spoken and glanced up startled
Dr. Yeager stood before her. fault
lessly arrayed, and looking very self-
possessed and handsome.
“I thougli that perhaps you would
like to know how Paul is getting along.”
lie remarked.
Her Voice Trembled.
“Since mty las{ attempt to obtain in
formation was so evidently unwelcome,
I am not sure that 1 have any interest
in the matter,” she retorted, her voice
trembling childishly.
“Well, that is what I told Paul,” an
swered Dr. Yeager, eyeing her keenly.
“But he had an idea that you would care
to know that he is better. He gave me
this note to hand to you. Ho is still
weak very weak -but he insisted on
writing it. By the way,” as she did
not answer, “l have told them at the
hospital that if you call there at any
time you are to be allowed to see the
patient. Good morning!
Beatrice took the envelope without
speaking, Wowed in return to the
physician’s farewell, and left the
church.
She walked rapidly down I he sunny
street, her heart beating in time to
her swiftly moving feet. At tlie cor
ner she stood for a moment and opened
the note. Only a few trembling, wa
ver! eg, penciled lines on a single sheet
CASTOR IA
lor Infants and Children.
The Kind You Hava Always Bought
of paper, but they brought tears to her
eyes.
“Thank you for the asters. I knew
they were from you. P. M.”
“He knew’ they were from me!” whis
pered Beatrice. She walked up the
street In the brilliant sunshine.
The doubts and unhappiness of the
past weeks were falling from her.
Once or twice she smiled gently. She
strolled on. as In a dream. Paul May
nard’s little note held tightly In her
hand, his face floating before her
tear-dimmed eyes.
How far she W'ent she did not know,
but she suddenly came to a full
knowledge of her surroundings be
fore a huge building of warm red
brick.
Sparrows squabbled on the window'
Hills and w’hite-capped nurSes passed
now and again before the windows
There was no surprise in Beatrice’s
-
mind when she recognized the hos
pital whore Paul Maynard lay ill. She
knew’ now that this had been the
place toward which she had been
walking for the past hour. She en
tered the building without further hes
itation.
An attendant led her to Paul’s door
and she entered. The sun streamed
through the windows and lay in a golden
band on the floor and close to the feet
of the dark-hatred man stretched in a
reclining chair, his back toward her
A sweet-faced nurse came swiftly for
ward.
He Is Much Better.
“I am Mrs. Minor.” said Beatrice,
softly. “I just came in to ask how Mr
Maynard is.”
“Oh, he is much better,” the nurse
assured her, in a low voice. “He is
asleep just now, but he is expecting you
Will you wait’.’”
“No.” stammered the visitor, “but
please tell him I called to ask after
him, ar.<l—”
“He is awake now.” Interrupted the
nurse, as the dark head moved a little.
She went noiselessly to her patient s
side, and spoke to him gently. Then
she motioned to Beatrice to go to him.
and, turning, left the room.
As in a dream, Beatrice stood by the
sick man for a second, silent. His
poor hands were still wrapped, In band
ages, and a crimson scar glowed angrily
on one side of his pale forehead, but
I his suffering had lent him a certain
i pure beauty that had never been hi*
I before.
I “I only came—” began Beatrice; then
stopped. But the man smiled up at
j her and> held out his arms. With a lit-
[tle sob she knelt, beside him and burled
I her face on his breast
| “My love!” he whispered: “my love!”
%>bbm^ ihe DininJ Room
to“Pay’ihe Kjnchen
NfO wonder butter is so high. }
•*“ ^ Particular women who are V.
loath to use lard or cooking but- t . Jj-j
ter in their cakes and fine pastry,
use table butter. With butter at ^
the price you have to pay for it,
that’s downright extravagance. Cottolene
is just as ( good as butter for pastry; for
frying, it is better. And Cottolene costs no
more than lard. Moreover,
Cottolene
is richer, and two-thirds of a pound of it will
go as far as a full pound of butter or lard.
And lard and Cottolene are not to be mentioned in the same
breath, for Cottolene is a vegetable product, healthful, always safe
— and makes digestible, rich,
but never greasy food.
Remember, Cottolene is better
than butter, better than lard
—and much more economical.
TRY THIS RECIPE:
-Fried Oysters -
Use large oysters; parboil a moment
to dry out some of the jui e to pre
vent spatteringduring thef Lay
them in seasoned bread crumbs. beaten
egg and again iu bread crumbs, then
brown a few at a time in deep, smok
ing-hot Cot'olene.
Made only by
TUL A. K, »-VUJUJANit COWANV