Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 March 1887 — WOMAN GOSSIP. [ARTICLE]

WOMAN GOSSIP.

Trifles. There 'is no transcendent originality in the statement that life is made np of trifles. The fact has long been on the list, but the trifles vary with situations. The little things which made np life twenty years ago form no complement of to-day’s existence. This is embodied as a troth in another trite phraso, “The times are changed.” However, the trifles Of to-day are better worth our study than any preceding ones. Take the little arrangements of to-day’s home life. Many of them were unthought of a decade ago. They may come to seem fantastical to later generations. They are, however, founded in good sense and adaptation to our present convenience. Some years ago in this country the woman or girl who stands in the place of the household servant of to-day was simply a “help. ” She was one of the family, who sat at the same table and was taken into all that circle’s frolics and pleasures as well as its labors. The tide of affairs has now made this impossible. The agitators es the great problem of household service will have to change the whole social system before they can make any radical change in these relations of to-day. The custom of a gentleman raising his hat as a mark of respect to a lady friend has not always been in vogue. But to-day how much its strict observance stamps a man a boor or a.gentleman. A young lady remarked not long since, “That man never touches his hat when recognizing me on the street, and it hurts my self-respect sadly.” How mistaken she was. His neglect of .a common custom simply lowered his standing as a man in the eyes of any observer. "It did not affect hers so long as her own manners were modest and genteel. Such trifles stamp a character positively even if unconsciously. “I have offended a lady friend,” says a gentleman, “and 1 don’t know how I did it. How shall I find out?” He will probably never find out. It may be he remarked to her, “Now, when you and I were young,” or simply, “I took you for Miss Brown. This when Miss Brown is ugly enough to crack a mirror. A woman who is fat and rosy does not enjoy hearing her slender, cream-white sisters enthusiastically admired. A woman who tries to write does not like to have “blue stockings" ridiculed, even if she is sure she is lacking in 6trong-minded traits.

Ladies are sensitive. Gentlemen are equally so, but of course in a different way. A man who has large feet does not like to have a pretty girl sitting opposite in a car look at them inquiringly. The cheekiest masher will fidget under such ' scrutiny. One of these sensitive masculines broke a marriage engagement with an adorable young woman because he overheard her say she preferred kissing a man with big mustaches. He had an absnrd idea that because he wore no such ornament she should not be able to make such a remark. We might cite scores of such cases, but it is unnecessary. We all recognize the existence of the fact that trifles make up our weal or woe. You may be critical, sarcastic, or even impertinent; for them you may apologize; but if you have been guilty of any such lapses into idiocy, your case is hopeless. You never can be forgiven. * * * There is an idea in existence that adversity is good for human nature; that, until we are tried by its cruel winds, we can have no strength, no sympathy with suffering in our fellow-men. There is, however, much strong logic in an opposing argument. Happiness is certainly the end of our being; pain and misery are only incidental to it, or life would not be worth living. For this happiness Ve are largely dependent upon one another. Now, it seems more plausible to suppose that the persons existing in sunshine will be most able to reflect something of the same light into tho lives of others. Care and trouble are very absorbing. When we are shut up with them, although we may not realize it, we crush out what is best even in the simple matter of domestic affection. It raises a bar against all the graceful amenities of life and crowds out all the best and sweetest of our own impulses. They talk about the beauty and grandeur of the storm-beaten oak, and almost sneer at the luxurious hot-house flower. But which gives the most pleasure and healing —the gnarled and twisted branches or tho graceful, perfunie-shed.ling jasmine? * * “Little man, . If you can, Say what you will follow When you grow Into a beau And wear a might/ collar 1” “Uncle Ben, , Th> n, ah ! then You bet I’ll bo a hummer. Lemme see— Noise for me I think I’ll be a drummer." —New Yorlc Journal. “Little girl, Witu a curl, Say, who will you favof When you grow And have a beau, Your right or left hand neighbor?” “Then, ah! then. Don't sigh, Ben, I’m sure he 11 be no drummer. Let me see— Gold for me— I think he’ll bo a plumber.” * * #

The exchanges seem never to tire ringing the changes on the Pulitzer-Howard encounter. Their columns groan with accounts of how bald-headed Joe Howard, Jr., was fisticuffed in the World’s office by its owner. Every woman pencil-shover who is too discreet to do so openly is at least secretly clapping her hands with glee. And she has a perfect, indisputable right so to do. Howard is the very unmannerly creature who once said women were nuisances in a newspaper office. Of course, his saying so did not make it so, or even make any levelheaded person think so, but still it was a very unpleasant remark, and he should have suffered for it at the time. It is probable he was washing a gentlebanded woman owned and managed the World about the time Puiitzer gave him that love tap under the ear. Pulitzer is no weakling; be is not even a swell athlete. He has trained, as he himself delights to boast, with Ihe big-muscled biceps of our roving tourists who travel by foot. He is a self-well-made man, and quite able to attack the blood of all the Howards. The only other occasion upon which the

arrant uncbivalrous Howard came near getting his deserts was at the hands of an unprotected but enterprising woman. Joe, Jr., though a bald-headed veteran who attacks women who enter and succeed at his own occupation, aspires to be something of a gallant. Oh this occasion he met a lady of pleasing appearance on a Brooklyn ferry boat, and in live minutes by the watch he was giving her some choice specimens of his fascinating conversation. The lady was equally jeager. The antique scribe swelled with Be3f-complacency at his mashing capabilities. Suddenly with a killing glance she drew from her sachel a suspicious book and began an earnest appeal for a subscription. To say bis beaming countenance fell would be inadequate, his whole mental organization took a tumble. He had been caught by a book agent, and all through his own overweening vanity. Was not that retribution dire enough to satisfy any narrow female mind? It is said, when that boat landed, Joe Jr. was the first one ashore and never stopped his pace until safe within the inner sanctum sanctorum of the World.

Tributes to Women. Confucius —Woman is the masterpiece. Herder—Woman is the crown of creation. Voltaire—Women teach us repose, civility, and dignity. John Quincy Adams—All that'll am my mother made me. Lamartine—There is a woman at the beginning of all great things. Whittier—ls woman lost us Eden, such as she alone can restore it. E. S. Barrett—Woman is last at the cross and earliest at the grave. Eichter—No man can either live piously or die righteous without a wife. N. P. Willis—The sweetest thing in life is the unclouded welcome of a wife. Voltaire—All the reasonings of men are not worth one sentiment of women. Beecher—W omen are a new race, recreated since the world received Christianity. Leopold Schefer—But one thing on earth is better than the wife—that is the mother. Shakspeare—For where is any author in the world teaches such beauty as a woman’s eyes? Michelet—Woman is the Sunday of man; not his repose only, but his joy, the salt of his life. Margaret Fuller Ossoli—Woman is born for love, and it is impossible to turn her from seeking it.