Newspaper Page Text
A Letter to a
Wronged Wife
Bv ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
pyright. 1913. by American-Jour
iml-Exuminer.)
B ELIEVE me dear madam, the
woman who is an absolutely
wronged wife does not ask any
for sympathy or advice, because
wound Is too deep to be probed by
a and it is hidden from sight.
It is on'y the surfaoe scratch which
es open to the ga*e of every eye.
You sav your trouble has destroy d
votir nervous system and made you
rritable, cross and irresponsible in
i our actions.
A r> you quite sure you were not
affli 'c.i with some of these peculiar-
j i..fore you were wronged?
T was once a wife who believed
. usband to be loyal and true In
a spy ense: but she continuously
!.-■ him about small matters,
s was irritable and faultfinding'.
was a poor housekeeper and
, s. in lier personal habits. Life
; ler tiie same roof with her was
purgatory.
su flenlv, when both husband and
. were middle aged, she found
, .fatuated with another woman,
she lifted her voice and crie.l
i : that she had been such a good
, faithful, so self-sacrificing.
. , , voted, so loving—and here was
her reward.
Am no one could make her believe
s ■ ad been the one who hewed the
and shaped and built her own
cross.
S ' limes the absolutely good and
,i , ;fe IS neglected and misused.
■ adorable- woman the writer
,,f this every knw was a misused and
ted wife.
Every Indignity.
Si, had suffered every indignity
-sib ■ from a small-souled brute
man. Vet she had made her
, . a heaven for her children, and
*he iiad developed the most wonder-
'poise and strength of character
i made lief the admiration of all
who knew her.
After her children were grown, and
n homes of their own, she left the
man. but she had believed it to be for
!.>. b.’st to save her children the
* m ini of a domestic earthquake
• rile t:ie> were small. And no one
ever heard her mention her husband.,
saw with dignity. While a woman
remains under a man’s roof she
should follow the old saying:
If you are going to PUT UP with
• situation, then SHUT UP." If you
rind the situation impossible, then
GET OUT; and when it is necessary,
ili 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
work and duties and distractions
'hi r beep you from brooding. Take
f.i, interest in your personal appear-
am - : surprise him by growing in at-
ctiveness, 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-
u* you. Keep busy, and never
blow v.mrself to be led into quar
rels.
Think about others as much as you
an. and as little as possible of your
own sorrows.
Sorrow well borne is a friend and
■i teacher, imparting a sense of kin-
G ip and sympathy. Put away any
idea that you have been specially se-
b ictl iv fate for a crushing woe.
Consider, rather, that you have been
to.! It* one of God’s intimate family by
being shown into the chamber of
sorrow.
Feel yourself kin to all the sorrow-
- world, and cast out bitterness.
Ml this I say to you knowing you
not reached a state of suffering
the faculties and
r words useless. For if you had
.'on could not have asked for sym
pathy or spoken of your trouble. T*he
; o really loves and* has
naliy been wronged can only talk
with God.
“WITCHCRAFT"
C§§3
Copyright, 1913. by American-Journal-
Examiner.
By Nell Brinkley
Daysey Mayme
And Her Folks
By FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
T IP inK who have seen the paintings
of angels by Imysey Mayme Ap
pleton. ho cleverly done that one
can hear the swish of their silk
petticoats as they fly through the sky.
need not for a moment Imagine that
painting is the sum total of her talents.
Her versatility irt boundless, her re
sourcefulness without limitation, and
her faith knows no disquieting depres
sion.
"I never," she nays with a fine show
of spirit, "permit myself to become dis
couraged, finding stimulus for a faint
ing spirit in the women’s magazines. T
know that if all else failed I could read
these splendid articles on remunerative
occupations for girls, ami start out
any time with determination and a
pickle and in a very brief period T
would be owning and running an im
mens© pickle factory.” *
She had read in one of these Pillars
of the Home an article on how to make
a quilt that would lie such a clever
imitation of one of the kind made by
our great-grandmothers that its value
would be priceless.
"With an outlay of five cents 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 Mayme
borrowed the money from her mother,
laid the foundation of the family for
tune on a dry goods counter, and began
work. •
She selected a pattern of a bright
purple pumpkin trailing its leaves of
pale blue across a white field, with a
big pink sunflower in the center, 4how
ing that disregard of the colors of na
turo that proved our foremothers were
so courageous.
She sowed many days, leaving the
calls of other duties for her mother
to answer, and at last the quilt wa»
G< • » . and Daysey Mayme exhibited it
t«» her family and friends with as h&ppj
a countenance as if a tub of honey had
been upset on her soul.
True, she found no buyers, but her
great resourcefulness at once devised a
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 luge
brious deathbed. When filled with
mournful thoughts over parting wiih
the dear ones left behind; W'hen tor
mented with a fear of what the future
may have in store, the dying one wdll
see my quilt and forget all else. He
will at once be seized with mirth and
go ilancing into the next world with his
crown on on© ear and filled with the
wildest of merriment.
"If there is eny one among you who
feats a lugubrious deathbed and who
will —name a date the quilt may be
rented at a nominal fee.”
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
tile, little aristocrat who labors at
riding in Grant Park o’ mornings
and serving tea afternoons in a
boudoir whose amphora vases three
peach trees were Hayed of their
pinky blossoms to fill. Anyway, it’s
a creature that anybody can see is
n WITCH from : he last feathery
curl on the crown of her head to the
strap of her broidered slipper.
THE COUNSEL FOR THE DE
FENSE, a small fat person with a
powerful tongue and eloquent eyes:
with white wings that, are found
sometimes to be slightly singed,
who ALWAYS wins his case. He
never proves that his client isn’t a
witch—that isn’t it—but he always
gets a light sentence—7* >h! .kisses or
something like that A thousand
or so!
On the Otherhand.
The geography class was in session,
and the teacher pointed a finger to the
mup on the classroom wall.
‘Here, on one hand, we have the
far-stretching country of Russia.
\Viilie,’’ she asked, looking over her
I pupils and settling on one small boy
1 at the end of the class, "what do we
J see <»n the other hand?”
Willie, hopeless with fright, hesitated
I a moment, and then answered, "Warts.”
Snap Shots
By LILLIAN LAUFERTY.
\* b. a farcy, a glimmer, a glance.
1 Life is a bit of illusion:
i you’ll find that its changes will
load you a dance.
' - s self will trim up and en
hance:
i; * ange you move on, why you
• ve t 0 advance;
•’■ill Sameness—I drink your con
fusion !
MAIDEN MUSINGS.
' the one real continuous per-
,,rniH1 O11 its program you will find
hyp.ih between present and past—or
'de and present.
What the Lecturer Said
?’oim
bilit
* from sight so complete ly
• world will never dream
half—
; 1 ’ f strong box securely,
if on the lid and laugh.
—Select©; j.
is a matter of extremes; so
vou are most particular about
'G-enie neatness, extreme suita-
extreme good taste!
Proof of Value
0 the time-tested, world-tried, home
temc'.y—proof of its power to relieve
quickly, safely, surely, the head-
the sour taste, the poor
and the fatigue of biliousness
he found in every dose of
BEEOHAM’S
PILLS
SeM -T.rjwhere. !n boir., 10c.. 2Sc.
e-z— KODAKS
‘ The Best rinlihing and Enlarfl-
I in'1 That Can Of Producad."
Tasiman Tilra* ami roin*
r-lstc stock amateur sxippll *s.
"c - . U*e for out-of-town customers.
, '.'na for Cataloe and Price List.
A K. HAWKES CO.
— w h j tehaH ?t.. Atlanta. Ga.
C OUSIN FANNIE felt too ill to
get up last Friday morning and
mother became alarmed—quite
needlessly. I think—and sent for Dr.
Tucker. When I recall that l 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 ^iad 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, 1 said with dignity: "My
club, the Dix Amies, met here last night,
and according to our rules we gathered
around the long bare table. Our maid
was out and. of course. Cousin Fannie
an«l ! 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 Lmile." 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.’ J be
lieve you would enjoy it. If you like I’ll
ask Mrs. Van Rensselaer, who is an old
friend of mine, tor a card for you."
My first impulse was to decline the
card, for the subject of the lectui^r
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 I was glad that I hail accepted,
for the costumes I sav* at the lecture
were quite the smartest I had seen this
spring. One charming gown gave me
a splendid idea for a frock for myself,
which ne can easib make at home out
of a lovely old soft lavender brocade
that grandmother lias had put awaj
ever since the Civil War. I think it will
divert Cousin Fannie t<> have some in
teresting work.
T, ■ \ ‘ ttll
and I was deeply impressed with lib
itment ol the subject. He main
tained that t * *♦- * 'J particulS
credit due to the unselfish member w.:
is to be found in nearly every family
group. Mother is everlastingly remind
ing me of Cousin Fannie'® unselfishness
und trying to burden me with a sense
of gratitude that I now see should not
bo 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 ideal
ized the danger I had been in. Dr.
Tucker must have thought that 1
greatly needed that lecture or he
would not have troubled to get me
an invitation He has seen when he
has come to the house from \\me 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 Renseelaers’ house
I fairly trembled to think how* dread
ful it would be if my capacity for en
joyment should be atrophied. I felt
that I must at once begin to gratify
my taste for pleasure. I 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.
I went over to La Fail© Street, in
tending to go 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?"
1 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 my business clothes.
Conte. let’s telephone jour mother.
Of course I agreed, for l wasn't at
ill sure that father would stay do\^i
»:Wn He has such h stubborn prrf-
•fenee for home''dinners. Carl and I
’ad a delightful evening and 1 was
iwfully relieved ‘ to find tl at n y
•apaeitj tor enjoytnenu had ✓ suffered
no injury.
Chinks Som?timss.
Kh©- : Ah, io {triage confer* sugh peace
f mind!
He - \*e«, knew men married men
forever /tfirg it fjom their wives.
She Why., p-"'v?
He—Piece of mind.
Ad vice to the
Lovelorn
HUNTING A HUSBAND By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
D 1
A DISAPPOINTMENT.
EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I wish you would please ex
plain the following for me. 1 re
ceived it in a letter from a
young man and would like to know
what he meant: "May 1 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,
j I think lie has been disappointed, and
j wants to tell you about it. He built
j an air castle, and realizes that it has
no foundation in fact, and must be torn
I down.
I Just what that air castle concerned—
| Love or Fame or Business- T can not
surmise.
NOT NECESSARILY.
I A EAR MISS FAIRFAX
7 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 wfiat 1 am
doing. Don’t you think it is all
right for her to write 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. For 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 coal, for
not only does It make a clearer fire, blit
it leave* fewer ashes. A handful of
common salt thrown into the lire occa
sionally makes n cheerful blaze aid
lessens the consumption of the? coal.
Velveteen which lias served its pur- I
pose as a dress or blouse should be pre- ;
served and made into polishing cloth. |
In this conr.eelioij vclvete* n is almost
as good as a chamois leather, and can
no: only t e used for obtaining a ’im
polish on satfnwo d and mahogrun fur
niture. but as a means of brightening
stiver and plated goods. When soiled
the velveteen may be successfully
cleaned by washing it in a soapy lather.
T HE wedding was over. Amid a
flutter of excitement among the
sentimental bridesmaids. and
much showing off of authority by the
best man and ushers, Robert Maynard
uiul his 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
l>ored further by having to say anything
in the way 9f congratulations to the (at
present) happy pair. That sort of thing
was wearisome to all hut 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 stye heard her
name spoken and glanced up startled.
Dr. Yeager stood before her, fault
lessly arrayed, and looking very self-
possessed and handsome.
"I though that perhaps, you would
like to know how Paul is getting along."
he remarked.
Her Voice Trembled.
"Since my last attempt to obtain in
formation was so evidently unwelcome,
I am not sure that I have any interest
in the matter,*’ she retorted, her voice
trembling childishly.
"Well, that is what l 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. He is still
weak- very weak but be insisted on
writing it. By the way." as she did
not answer, "I have told them at the
hospital that if you call there at any
time you are to be allowed to sec the
patient. Good morning!”
Beatrice took the envelope without
speaking, bowed in return to the
physician’s farewell, and left the
church.
She w'alkcd rapidly down the sunny
street, her heart beating in time to
her swiftl. moving feet. At the cor
ner she steed tor a moment and opened
the note. < ml' a few 1 rambling. wa
vering. penciled lines on a single sheet
of paper, but they brought tears to her
eyes.
"Thunk you for the asters. I knew
they w’ere 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 Pilling 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 went she did riot know,
but she suddenly came to a full
knowledge of her surround iugs be
fore a huge building of warm red
brick.
Sparrows squabbled on the window
Bills 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 where 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-haired man stretched in a
reclining chair, his back toward her
A sweet-faced nurse cam© swiftly for
ward.
He Is Much Better.
"I am Mrs. Minor," said Beatrice, j
softly. "I just came in to ask how Mr
Maynard is."
“Oh, he is much better, the nurse j
assured her, in a low voice. "Lie is 1
asleep just now, but he is expecting you. I
Will you wait?”
"No." stammered the visitor, "but
please tell him I called to ask after
him, and—’’
"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
his suffering had lent him a certain
pur© beauty that had never been his
before.
"I only tame—" began Beatrice; then
stopped. But the man smiled up at
her and held out his arms. With a lit
tle sob she knelt beside him and buried
her face on his breast
"My love!" lie whispered; “my love!"
Qobbin^ Vhe Dining Rp
to“Pay”the Kacru
CASTOR 5 A
For Infaa + .s pud Children.
The Kind You Hevc Always Sought
3ear>= tho
aiRiiaturo of
TVJO wonder butter is so high. 7
Particular women who are v
loath to use lard or cooking but- «, ^
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
4»
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 arc 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 Oyatcro-
Use large oyster*; parboil a moment
to dry out some of the juice to pre
vent spattering during the frying. Lay
them in seasoned bread crumb-, beaten
egg and again in bread crumbs, then
brown a few at a time in deep, smok
ing-hot Cnt'oUne.
Made only by
TUli N. Ii. ‘•AIRUAMt COiULLNV