Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 February 1887 — A Hint for Faint Hearts. [ARTICLE]

A Hint for Faint Hearts.

Many a girl among these, however, is sadly misinterpreted. The realism of James and Howells, the cynical sarcasm of Thackeray, and the modern tone of worldliness which prevails, all work upon the mind feminine as upon its masculine rival, and leave it little chance for any generous or unselfish sensations, says a chatty writer. But now and then the old love of romance and sentiment beats in some tender young bosom, beneath the Parisian plaits and frills that conceal its heavings from a rude world, and the Maiden Bostonian, outwardly “icily regular, splendidly null, ” longs and yearns to become the heroine of a grande affaire du cceur. In one moment she would forsake her ancestral halls for s he humblest Queen Anne to be found in the neighborhood of Boston. She would become a suburban resident, with all the miseries that condition entails; she would hang Canton flannel portieres at her doors, throw Koula rugs upon her painted floors, dine off a sl7 din-ner-set, and answer the bell herself with the greatest cheerfulness, for the man she loves. But, unfortunately, nobody asks her to do any such thing. The handsome gallant, who evidently looks upon her with no small favor, hangs fire, and will not come to the point. The splendor of her surroundings tills him with gloom and melancholy, and he never dreams of the noble spirit of self-sacrifice which causes her to regard all this as dross. He does not venture to ask the important question, but drifts into a state of hopeless bachelorhood, while the warm heart that turned toward him gradually ceases its loud beating, and remains cold and senseless in the breast of a sad-faced spinster. 0 you men, faint of heart, have courage to test the affection of your own true loves! Ten to one they would give up all for your sakes, and follow you to the ends of the earth. The most flighty little spendthrift jade may turn but a tender, thoughtful wife, to make you a hhppy home and fill your life with joy. Try it and see. Don’t set all girls down as heartless, because one or two Have proved to be such, but look on the bright side and believe that there is just as much true womanhood in the world today as there ever was, though sometimes it is hidden behind a cloud. As for the cold, calculating damsels who mean to marry money, and to do it without regard for any other good quality in their husbands, they are pretty generally hoist by their own petard. jLone Women. A woman living alone, uncared for, without human sympathy or help, is not a pleasant picture to look upon. It is unnatural. Every woman has cravings demanding satisfaction in human society. You may set it down in your mind’s note-book she has received a series of hard knocks before she secludes herself, denying herself this sustenance. A solitary life is invariably forced upon her, either through her feelings of necessity or sensitiveness. It is the result of suffering; she is a victim of tenderheartedness, never a creature of self-sufficiency. How much more is she a victim of solitude than a man so situated? A man of means but no home ties has his club, cheery places in which to punch billiard balls; he can go sit in some woman’s pretty parlor; in fact, he has a score of mediums by which to pass his hours of leisure. A woman has no club. Such places are not considered conducive to morality. A woman’s place is at home. She is a* conspicuous object at the theater when alone, or in the more quiet concert-room. She cannot invite a gentleman to accompany her. She cannot have this recreation unless assisted to it by friends. When she does not possess them the pleasure is unattainable.

If we stop to consider for a moment we each know of such a woman. Perhaps she is a seamstress, out in families all day, at home in her cheerless room only for a few hours at night. We never have* called to see her—she never asked us to do so. Perhaps she is an old, wrinkled-faced woman, who was reticent but kindly, and when we hear she has been found asleep forever, with no one to close her eyes tenderly, we wonder we never cultivated a little friendliness with her. Poverty, with its lack of resources, adds much to the sadness of solitude, but meat and drink for the body is not all. The soul must also have food. Cheerful words cost nothing but an effort, and are most often priceless to the receiver. Of Interest to Women. ... Jen\yLind is said to be very intolerant toward young singers. The authoress of “Booties’ Baby,” “Mignon’s Secret,” etc., is writing a new

story entitled “Did She Elope?” which promises to be most interesting. Mrs. Herman Merivale is joint author with her husband of the play “The Whip Hand.” Mrs. I. B. McClain, of Calistoga, Cal., is the great woman mail contractor of the Pacific coast. Miss Kate Foote, the bright Washington correspondent, has been forced to give up work on account of a broken arm. Mrs. Langtry will neither deny nor affirm the story that she once put an icicle down the back of the Prince of Wales. The birth of Secretary Whitney’s daughter is the fifth instance in the last twenty years of an increase in like manner of a Cabinet family. ’