Newspaper Page Text
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WOMAN’S LIFE IS A
SEARCH FOR VALUES
Back to the “Sixties
99
Copyright, 1913, by American-Journal
Examiner.
•By Nell Brinkley
By ADA PATTERSON.
T :
herself, and to those gathered
about her bedside in a vain ef
fort to save her life she said: "I didn't
know the leal thing from the phonv
until too late!”
.The dying words of the poor, paint
ed creature, self-slain. despairing,
anxious to leave a world in which she
had allowed herself to be cheated, are
a message to every woman, whatever
her age or station, whatever her gifts,
her outlook or her problems.
World a Big Store.
The world is a great department
store, and we are the shoppers.
Woman’s life Is a search for values.
The woman whose life ended in sui
cide was a bad shopper. At the bar
gain counter, in search of benefits,
she had selected what was worthless,
discarding what was worthy.
“The power of living a beautiful
life dwells in the soul," said Marcus
Aurelius, “and consists in indifference
to those things which are indiffer
ent."
The young girl peeps into her mir
ror. and discovers with a thrill of
pride that she has suddenly, mys
teriously, become pretty of face and
pleasing of figure; that the sallow
ness and awkwardness of yesterday
have gone somewhere, somehow'; that
she is growing up and has dominion
in a new, strange land, the land of
admiration.
Hovering timidly, fascinatedly, at
life’s bargain oounter, she is in great
danger, the greatest danger Miat be
sets a, woman's life—that of not
knowing the worthy from what Is
worthless.
The stranger, who twirls his cane
with one hand and pulls his mustache
with the other, while he ogles her,
she may, because this shopping is so
new to her, mistake for something
genuine and worth while.
If she watched him saunter a block
further she would see the same twirl
ing of the light cane, the same pull
ing at a feeble mustache, the same
rolling of shallow eyes at every other
pretty girl he met. Worthless goods!
The only man worth a second's con
sideration is the one who does not
ogle, but who, looking with true,
steady eyes into your own, asks the
only honest question: “Will you be
my wife?”
Perhaps they do want it, but the
only real value to befound in the de
partment of hearts is not the admi
ration, but love. Love of general
admiration is the commonest mistake
of woman. Homes are broken by it.
Lives are shattered by it. Yet, mad
dened by the rush of other women to
the bargain counter, many shoppers
pay the last penny of their woman
hood for what is worse than worth-
less.
To be admired one moment and for
gotten the next is the lot of the wom
an who cares only for admiration.
The honest love of a good man Is the
only article at that counter worth a
thought.
Takes Brains to Market.
In her search for values a woman
who takes her brains with her to
market wants to buy a home. She
may begin with a furnished room.
She may grow out of this into a wee
flat of her own. But if her mind
sits steadily on its throne, there is a
healthy hunger in her that will not
be stilled-—the. hunger for a perma
nent home into which she can build
herself and her family. That home
will be to her an expression of them
selves and a growing ground for ev
ery inmate of it, a place for charac
ter growth and upbuilding.
Seeking for values, the permanen
cies of life, she finds that honest,
cheerful work, and plenty of it, is
one of them, and good will is an
other.
The idler always makes a poor bar
gain. He gives his time and gets
nothing. The worker gives his energy
and receives the comfortable assur
ance of having done his best. The
joys of love intoxicate, exhilarate and
pass. The consciousness of having
done your best with the talents grant
ed you by nature is s permanent sun
shine of the soul. The thorn in many
a death bed has been the thought: “I
have thrown away my talents; I have
wasted my life.”
There Is plenty of sentiment in the
world, and in human hearts, if direct
ed Into right channels. The world's
need is rather the ballast of practical
common sense than of flight-provok
ing sentiment.
But there is no doubt that every life
is better and more profitable for the
cultivation of a spirit of good will.
The hypercritical woman stultifies
herself.
The Woman Who Gains.
She forms the habit of studying life
through a microscope. She becomes a
fault hunter. The best definition I
have ever heard of a friend is that he
is one who in and out of season
wishes you well. That Is a good atti
tude to take toward life, toward peo
ple, toward the world, of wishing them
well.
The difference between the magnet
ic and unmagnetlc person is dimply In
this atmosphere of thought. We are
attracted by the person who wills good
will, and are repelled by one who is
indifferent or malicious.
The woman who has gotten from
life's bargain counter the love of a
good man; if they have bought, or are
in the way of buying, a home, be it
ever so little, of their own; if she is
developing to the uttermost her tal
ent, be it for raising healthy babies or
singing in grand opera; if she has the
soul sunshine which follows general
good will, she knows values. She has
proven herself a good shopper.
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Up-to-Date Jokes
Here Is a story sent by a golfing i
reader:
“Standing one day on the first tee at
St. Andrews waiting my |urn to start,
a small caddie came up laboring un
der the burden of e very large kit of 1
clubs, nearly all Irons.
“ ‘Halloa, Jock, wha’s yer man?’
called out a brother caddie.
•'The flttle chap replied, ‘I dinna ken,
but,’ looking at his set. 'I’m thinkin’ I
he’s a Glesga ironmonger.’ ”
* • •
A park policeman, seeing a yellow dog
near two handsomely dressed women,
j approaches respectfully, and says:
“Does this beautiful little creature
belong to you, ladles*’’
“Mercy, nor’
Park Policeman (lifting his cane):
“Get out o’ here, you beast!”
• • •
Old Salt—Yes, mum; them’s men-o’-
war.
i Sweet Young Thing—How interesting!
j And what are the little ones just in
i front?
Old Salt—Oh, them’s just tugs, mum. i
! Sweet Young Thing—Oh, yea, of I
j course; tugs-of-war. I’ve heard of
them.
• • *
Teacher—Well, Tommy, can you tell
me the meaning of ‘repent’*
Tommy—I don’t know, sir.
Teacher—Well, suppose I stole a purse
and I got locked up, wouldn’t I repent?
Tommy—No, sir; you’d be sorry they ,
caught you.
ipsa,
§=* 4AV>
BE SURE TO STUDY
YOUR CHILD’S ABILITY
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
P ERHAPS an amiable, but assur
edly a dangerous, assumption
is that on the part of parents,
and more especially on the part of
mothers, that their children have It in
them to be geniuses.
Little Johnny Is seized with a ma
nia for appropriating opened envel
opes or other available resources of
paper, and with a stump of pencil
traveling perpetually to his lips in or
der to produce fine shadow effects, is
forever drawing eats with triangular
faces, eyes thut are anything but
round, noses well out of the perpen
dicular, and crooked horizontal lines
for mouths.
Or he makes an Irregular oblong,
from each lower corner of which lie
lets fall a straight line, to each upper
corner he affixes another stroke, and
with a circle for head, a few dashes
for features, dots for eyes, and a
triangle for a cocked hat, he pro
claims that he has drawn a soldier.
“The child will be an artist,” cry
his gratified parents—"perhaps a
great artist.”
He loves to perform upon a cheap
cornet or a whistle. Then he will be
a great musician.
He writes rhymes conspicuous for
everything but meter and rhyming.
Then he will be a poet.
Ambitious Parents.
And on some scant and uncertain
Indications—In a few cases, of course,
more serious and justified—It may r>e
his future is wrecked. His good, all
round development—that which would
serve to make a useful, capable man
of him—Is lost sight of.
In a world of average men and
women, ambitious parents—more es
pecially mothers—are not satisfied
that their boys and girls shall be
average. They are pressed, forced,
scolded and persuaded.
Ignorant of that first law of devel-
Capable of Talking
i
©
T HE patron looked like a generous
man, and the waiter had served
him an order, and now hovered
! round the table. He evidently had not
j been trained on the Idea that a good
| waiter is practically a noiseless one
! who says nothing.
“Steak all right, sir?” said he, and
moved to the other side of the table.
When the steak had been tried, he
ventured, “Done enough, sir?”
“It will do,” was the reply.
There was another pauye, and then
j the waiter asked:
“Potatoes cooked right, sir?”
The patron beckoned him to come
nearer.
“When I came in here,” he said, “I
supposed everything would be all
right.”
“Yes, sir.”
"I took it for granted, and ordered
on that theory."
“Of course, sir.”
“And if there is anything wrong, I
might say confidently that there is an
excellent way to find It out.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you just keep within ear
shot and say nothing, and If there is
anything wrong I’ll talk. I can do It.
And that tip—”
“Yes, sir.”
“You needn’t keep working for it. I
don’t need to be reminded that you’re
the man who waited on me. I never
can forget a noisy waiter, and always
‘remember’ a still one.”
He was not disturbed again.
By T. W. HANSHAW.
Copyright by Doubleday, Page & Co.
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
44
I
SEE. No male servants at all
then?"
“No, sir: not one. There’s
j onea —the handy man as comes in
mornin’s to do the rough work and
the haulin’ and carryin’ and things
like that; and there’s the gardner and
Mr. Kempner—him as is Mr. Nos-
worth's assistant in the laboratory,
sir—but none of ’em is ever in the
house after 5 o’clock. Set against
havin' men sleep in the house was
Mr Nosworth—swore as never an
other should after him and Master
-Harry had their falling out. Why,
\ he was that bitter he’d never
§8..-? n aJlow Mr. Charles to set foot in
’place, just because him and Mas-
S Harry used to be friends—which
ies it precious hard on Miss Ren-
gs v, I can tell you.”
5v- jr - As how? Is this’Mr. Charles con
nected with Miss Renfrew in any
way?”
A Rare Old Skinflint.
“Lummy! yes, sir—he’s her young
man. Been sweet on each other ever
since they was In pinafores; but
never had no chance to marry be
cause Mr. Charles—Mr. Charles
I)rummond is his full name, sir he
hasn’t one shillin’ to rub against an
other, and Miss Renfrew she s a little
worse off than him. Never gets
nothin’, I am told, for keepin’ house
for her uncle—just her food and
lodgin’ and clothes—and her slavin
like a nigger for him the whole
blessed time. Keeps his books and
superintends the runnin’ of the house,
she do, but never gets a braes
farthin’ for it, poor girl. I don t like
to speak ill of the dead, Mr. Head
land, sir, hut this I must say: A rare
old skinflint was Mr. Septimus Nos-
worth—wouldn't part with a groat
unless un war forced to. But praise
be, her’ll get her dues now, poor girl—
unless old Skinflltnt went and
changed his will without her know-
in’ it.”
“Oho!” said Cleek, with a strong
rising infection. “His will was made
in Miss Renfrew’s favor, was it?”
"Aye. That’s why her come and
put" up with un and all his hard
heartedness—denyin' her the pleasure
o’ even stein’ her ywung man just be
cause him and Master Harry had
been friends and playmates when t’
pair of un were just boys In knick
ers and broad collars. There be a
stone heart for you."
A Strange Beast.
“Rather. Now one more question.
I think you said it was Miss Ren
frew who gave the alarm when the
murder was discovered, Mr. Nippers.
How did she give it and to whom?”
“Pegs! To me and Mistress Anra-
royd, of course. Me and her war
sittin’ in the kitchen havin' a ite o'
supper at the time. Gorham, he war
there, too, in the beginnin’; but un
didn’t stop, of course—’twouldn’t a
done, for the pair of us to be oft
duty together.”
“Oh! Is Gorham a constable,
then?”
“Aye—under constable second to
me. Got un appointed six months
ago. Him had just gone a bit of a
time when Miss Renfrew come rushin’
in and shrieked out about the mur
der, but he heard the rumpus and
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
T HIS is the friendship I would
choose:
Hard to win and hard to
lose;
Slow to seek a separation,
Qulok to find an explanation;
Smoldering in Its early days,
Growing like a forest blaze;
Through the seasons bravely liv
ing,
Never asking, ever giving;
Hearing doubters that desert you,
Heeding nothing meant to hurt
you;
Watching all your faults to catch
theip,
Finding faults of his to match
them;
Saying till the journey’s end,
, “Right or wrong, he Is my friend!”
' Hard to win and hard to lose—
! That is the friendship I would
choose.
ESTABLISHED 23 YEARS
DR.E.G. GRIFFIN’S
GATE CITY DENTAL ROOMS
BC .T WORK AT LOWEST PRICES
All Work Guaranteed.
Hours 8 to 6-Phane M. 1708-Sundsyn P-1
24*/, Whitehall dt. Over Brown A A lens
camo poundin’ back, of course. 1
dunno wlfcat I’d a done if un hadn’a,
for Mis* Renfrew, her went from one
faintin’ fit to another—’t was just
orful. Gorham helped I to carry her
up to the sittin’ room where Mistress
Armroyd burnt feathers under her
nose, and when we’d got her round
a bit we all three went outside and
round to the laboratory. That’s
when we first see the prints of the
animal’s feet. Mistress Armroyd
spied ’em first—all over the flower
bed just under the laboratory’ win
dow.”
Keeps Various Animals.
“Oho! then that is what you meant
when you alluded to an ‘animal’ when
you pounced down upon us, was it?
I see. One word more; what kind of
an animal was it? Or, couldn’t you
tell from the marks?”
"No, sir, I couldn’t—nobody could
unless It might be Sir Ralph Droger.
He’ll be like to If anybody. Keeps
all sorts of animals in Droger Park,
does Sir Ralph. One thing I can
swear to, though, sir; they wam’t like
the footprints of any animal as I
ever see. There be a picture o’ St
George and the Dragon on the walls
o’ Town Hall at Birchampton, Mr,
Headland, sir, and them footprints
is more like the paws of that dra
gon than anything else l can call to
mind. Scaly and clawed they is—
like the thing as made ’em was part
bird and part beast—and they’re a
good twelve Inches long, every one of
’em.”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
To Make Amends
A STORY Is told of a certain Scot
tish magistrate who on rising one
morning found that he had over
slept himself, and had but a few min
utes in which to keep a most impor
tant appointment. Making a hurried
toilet, he rushed from the house and
hailed a passing cab.
“Drive me,’’ he said to the driver, “to
the police court with all possible speed.
On no account delay an instant.”
Faithful to his instructions, the driver
urged his speed to its very utmost.
Faster and faster they went until, after
an exciting drive, he deposited his fare
at his destination in time for the ap
pointment, but not before he had dam
aged a passing vehicle in his mad cafeer.
The magistrate, on alighting, handed
him his fare with the addition of a
substantial tip, ami then, to the man’s
astonishment, pressed thirty shillings
into his hand, at the same time saying:
“Here's thirty shillings, my man; you
will be brought before me to-morrow
morning for furious driving, and I shall
fine you that amouR vj '
into a little Chapeau Shop in this Springtime of nineteen-thir-
teen she would raise her little mitted hands to heaven in amaze—
for behind the glass cases she would find the very cocked hats and
the same wee bonnets that she fitted over her black curls in eigh-
tecn-sixty-eight! Oh, have you noticed them well—the “bit-lid-
dies”—like little wedding cakes, tiny bowler crowns—all pink
buds, field daisies, watered ribbon, brocade, flutings, with “stream
ers”—“flirtation ribbons,” or, as they were called in Paris,
“suives moi-jeune homme,” hanging down the back in an old, old
fashion long forgot? They are pushed down, too, over one’s nose,
and tilted up in the back. So look to the order of your back hair,
oh, Bettys, as you have not had to look since hats jammed down
to one’s shoulders, all around, for the last two years, for yotir
grand-dame’s hats are here, and the nape of your neek is once
more a thing of beauty to be gazed upon.
“THERE IS PLENTY OF
JOY TO GO ’ROUND”
*'
T HERE Is plenty of Joy to SO’
'round, you know.
To see this you’re Just about
bound, yon know. #
For the truth of it's easily founH—
and so
It is foolish to envy the chap who's
arrived,
For the thing is so sweetly and neatly
contrived,
That althongh you’re still climbing
while he is On tbp—
If you’ll simply keep going and soorn
the word “stop,”
Why, you’ll get there at last,
And his hour may be past
When yours Is just found.
Oh, yes, I’ll be bound
That the doctrine’s quite sound—
There is plenty of joy to go ’round.
There is plenty of work to go ’round,
you know,
And your share can be easily fbtmd,
you know.
If to do your part you fee! quite bound
and go
A-iooking for work that you only can
do,
Or a-flttlng your task If your taEk
All the while sternly striving to get to
the top,
Where the Joy of arriving It not that
you stop.
When you get there at last,
You will find work's not past:
But the secret Is found
That we rise from the ground
By the weakness we've downed—
There Is plenty of Joy to go *round.
Yes. there’s plenty of Joy to go 'round,
my lad;
By the beauty of striving you’re
bound, my lad;
When your task and your duty are
found, be glad.
You’ll know when you’re working with
might and with will,
When you're seeking for power each
task to fulfill,
That there’e pleasure in climbing—no
thought of the goal;
That there’s Joy In Just doing your
work, heart and soul.
So you’re sure to arrive,
And be keenly alive
To the blief that Is found
In the garb of work gowned.
Thus your labor Is crowned—
And tkw*j* plsaty ot*
opment which demands rest and lels.
ure for the proper growth of any fac.
uity, somebody is forever at their el
bows insisting that time is valuable,
that life is short, that they shall re
member their talent und , waste
neither.
If they would make a stir In the
world, they must he up and doing.
One has memories-of weary-,yad,
spiritless or restless, fever-bright
children, in whom mothers satv
neither the anaemi nor nerveless
ness, nor sleeplessness, nor indigestion
consequent on long, close hours, arij
overtaxed brains—nothing of these—
only that possible realization of am
bitions.
Intentions Are Good.
That mothers, in this relation, are
inspired by excellent intentions is not
denied. +
In some cases. It is true, such ma
ternal ambition Is the outcome at
mere selfish vanity.
The mother herself, it may be, lias
never made one effort toward distinc
tion. and does not know the cost, but
her son or daughter shall, if training,
forcing 1 and perpetual sspurring will
avail, he made to excel, in order that
she may share their glory.
Such mothers must be left out df
account—it is to be hoped they are
rare: at all events, nothing that can
bo addressed to them, from the stand
point of their children’s welfare will
be of the slightest use.
One speaks, therefore, to her who,
with the best intentions in the worK,
strives to make geniuses of her aver
age brood.
A quite ungifted woman—the wife
of a mediocre, unsuccessful man—ob
served with an indignation amounting
almost to anger to the beautiful, tal- -
ented wife of a distinguished, welK
known lawyer:
“I can’t think how It is that my
children are not so clever and hand*
some as yours.”
And she continued to bewail and
I admonish her children. “Why do yotl
j not head your class as Clarence N—
j does?”
“Why do you not play the piano and
sing, and carry yourself, and have
pretty manners like Julia N—?” .
And eventually: “Why do you not
marry so successfully and get on in
the world so well as Julia and Clar
ence N—?”
The explanation was manifest to all.
Julia and Clarence N— were ev
ceptionally gifted in both looks and
talents.
The others, to whom the N—s were
perpetually held up as examples, were
average, healthy, hearty children,
who, under a just and prudent up
bringing, would have made average
useful members of society.
As it. was, perpetually goaded to
exhibit and develop qualities they
lacked, they proved failures.
Two Lives Wrecked.
The boy who, possessing good, all-
I round capacities, might have made
an excellent, contented man of busi-
| ness, was converted by his mother’s
! teaching Into becoming a neurotic
and morose twelfth-rate poet, whom
nobody reads; while the daughter,
who might have been a happy wife
and mother, a capable teacher or a
helpful hospital nurse, wasted six or
eight hours dally for seven long years
vainly laboring to wrest music from
I a violin.
These two young lives have been
absolutely sacrificed to a maternel
ambition, wicked in its selfish disre
gard of their shortcomings, their ac
tual abilities and their personal well
being.
CLEEK OF THE FORTY FACES
Nell Brinkley Says:
TP the sweet little ghost of my grandmother’s youth should rustle
THE GRANDSON <
DF MICHAEL
“Y
OU are stupid and ugly, poor
Alexis. You are proud be
cause I have married you and
because I am beautiful. It flatters
you. Then so much the worse for me.
But you are a sport and not stingy,
which makes up for much, even for
your miserable appearance.”
Thus spoke Anita Dumoulln, a
princess now, wife of the great-
grandson of Michel the Wolf.
He did not answer. Why should he
exept himself to do so? He married
Antta because he loved her. He knew
her past, but did not care.
He did not even get angry one
night when, returning home unex
pected, he found Anita in the arms of
a friend from the club. He simply
asked the friend to leave, as if he
were afraid of him.
“Well, yes! What about It?” cried
Anita furiously. ”1 have been un
faithful to you.”
“Don’t say anything,”, he said gen
tly.
He seemed more discouraged than
annoyed. Then he went to his club,
and the next day he paid Anita’s bills
as usual.
Alexis then refused to pay any more
bills.
“Don’t expect me to pay any of your
debts, Anita,” ho said to his aston
ished wife. Then ho telephoned all
the tradespeople to stop her credit.
That night she was sitting In hei
boudoir, completely crushed.
There was a knock at the door. It
was Alexis. She had been expecting
him for some time.
“I have been packing my suit case,”
he said.
“Your suit case! So you are going
away? And where to, may I ask?
Monte Carlo, Nice, China?”
“I am going back to my own coun
try.”
“To your own country? With noth
ing but a suit case? You must be
crazy. How much money are you
going to leave me?”
“Nothing at all.”
“What! You are not going to leave
me any money? Well, I am not going
to 9tand for It.”
And for a quarter of an hour she
ejaculated her rage In the wildest,
coarsest and most insulting expres
sions. He listened to her without a
word.
“And what are you going to do
with your dirty money?” she scream
ed at last. “You have found another
woman, I suppose, who has spotted
you for the sucker that you are.”
Prince Alexis’ voice was very calm
as he replied:
“War has been declared, Anita. I
need all my money to turn it over to
my king to be used against the Turks.
When I get home I will enter the
army as a private."
Anita was pale with rage. He was
even a greater fool than she had
thought.
“You want to be a. soldier and
throw your money into that dirty
war! And what about me and my
bills and my house? You are a selfish
scoundrel, like all men. You, a sol
dier! You make me laugh. You are
not even a man. You will die with
fright. If the weight of your knap
sack doesn't kill you. You, a coward,
who did not even fight the man who
stole your wife from you!”
The Prince did not seem to hear
her. He shrugged his shoulders and
said:
"I am going now. Au revoir,
Anita.”
His composure maddened her.
“You coward!’’ she hissed, “you will
throw away your gun to run quicker,
just like all the rest of your miser
able countrymen, as soon as they see
the Turks. They will chase you like
the swine and curs you are. You must
be crazy to fight for a good-for-noth
ing mongrel country like your Ser-
via.”
She said no more. Alexis’ face had
suddenly become purple at her last
words. His fingers clutched his wife’s
throat and gripped it tightly until
she died. Then he left the roo
asked for his suit, case, and sal
“Don’t disturb the Princess until t
morrow. She is asleep, but will ri
If she needs any one."
He took the Orient express t
Vienna.
Nobody discovered the crime un
more than twelve hours later. He
tilities had already begun.
When an extradition order reach
the Servian general at the front, t
officer said respectfully to the Pai
detective:
"It. is Alexis Fetragorevitch y
want. Come, I will show him
you.”
The bodies of four private soldie
lay under a tent. Pointing to one
them the General said with a salut
“There he is.”
And everybody touched their ca
in respect for four heroes.
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the skin clear, soft and smooth,
and lightens it.
A trial will convince you.
Price 25c, postpaid anywhere.
FOR SALE BY
All Jacobs’ Stores
And Druggists Generally.
f Air-Float Talcum Powder—bora-
ted, perfumed—guaranteed pure.
*5 TALCUM PUFF COMPANY
P Miner* kjd<1 J1 anKf*rHirer*, Bu»b Terminal Illdf.,
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK
Talcum Powder *
Steel Engraved and
Embossed Stationery
BUSINESS CARDS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS
Largest Plant in the South Lowest Prices ^
a* mitted or m,rw r «entatlve v fad th ,;. lf you
.J V" and and ^‘*x>tners will read your
^ \ ./fe, one weeW N .1* n' 8 in the Want Ad Section.
■went
ad lf