Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 198, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 August 1914 — SPOILED CHILD'S END [ARTICLE]

SPOILED CHILD'S END

By MRS. M. A. KIDDER.

• (Conyrisht.) Mary Sylvester was a beautiful girl, the fairest type of a blonde, and as amiable as she was lovely. Born in opulence, reared by Indulgent parents, without a wish ungratified, it is Wot strange that,,, with all her natural charms of manner, she was supremely selfish. She was an only child, heiress in prospective to considerable property, so her suitors were numerous. To the outer world Mary Sylvester seemed a pattern for her young companions to imitate in all things. Only to her parents-or her intimate friends were her faults known and commented on by them. “Mother, do you think father will let me have an extra hundred today?” said Mary, as she sat at her 11 o’clock breakfast one morning. “A hundred dollars more, Mary? Why, he gave you two hundred yesterday, my child!” “What’s two hundred, mother? Why, it was all gone before night for knickknacks.’ “It wouldn’t be much, it is true, daughter, if yon had to clothe yourself out of Buch remittances; but for ‘pin .money’ it is a great deal for your father to spare out of his business so often. What do you want to purchase now?” “A point-lace handkerchief at Lord & Taylor’s; there were but two of this style and pattern, and Grace Wells has bought the other. The clerk has fiut It by for me, so you see I must have the money, mama, darling.” “You have always had your way, Mary, and always Will, I suppose,” said the foolish, indulgent mother, “but you have elegant handkerchiefs in abundance; and as for Grace Wells, her father is a millionaire.” i "Let me stop " your mouth with kisses, sweet mother mine,” said the amiable Mary, “You know papa will give me the money, and as much more If I want it, so what Is the ash of wasting words about it?” Sure enough, what w'as the use of wasting words in that weak way? The money was forthebming; the handkerchief bought, duly admired, and then put away to swell the pile of light and airy “nothings” that had-cost so much cash, as well as a pang of heartache In the soft-hearted old man who had pampered .his daughter until she hung like a weight about his neck. “I could not deny my darling child anything—my only qne!" he would Bay feebly. “She might be taken away from me, and then I should never forgive myself.” Mistaken affection! that unfits the beloved one to battle .with the world in all its aspects; that panders to appetites that may one day destroy the happiness of life. Sylvester & Co. had, just at the commencement of our story, taken into partnership one James Harding, a young man of, pome property and of fine address. Not many months elapsed before Harding, a frequent visitor at the house of Sylvester, the senior mejnber of the firm —became enamored of the fair Mary. His love was returned, and, as he was considered a “good catch” by anxious mamas and waiting daughters, the doting parentß gave their consent that the marriage of the twain -should take place at an early date. The spring following, James Harding led to the altar the fair blonde; and a finer bridegroom and more charming bride never graced the grand old church wherein they were married. Two years pass, and bring us into the disastrous year of 1907, when the country was alarmed by the shock of financial failures, Sylvester ft Co. went down with the rest, saving nothing, comparatively, from the general wreck. Sylvester, a feeble old man at best, did not survive the shock, but within three months was “laid with his fathers.” James Harding, who had pat his “little all” into the firm, came out a poor man. He had a brave heart, though, and willing hands, youth, and a good name, to aid him in his struggle to gala a foothold among business men, but It would take years to rise to an independent position. "If Mary only kept up,” he would say, with a sigh, “I could be hopeful, and-even cheerful; but she mourns so much over our loss, regrets parting with her fashionable friends, her inability to dress as she has been accustomed to, and other grievances too numerous to mention, that it utterly disheartens me.” One look into that miserable home and the heart sickened! A brave man straggling with adverse circumstances, and a weak, spoiled young woman heaping reproaches and taunts upon her husband’s head! ’• - ' “1 will not move into that /mean cottage In the suburbs, and leave my beautiful city home! If you carry me there I’ll drown myself in the cistern ! ” cried the hysterical wife. "Mary, my dear, try to calm yourself, soy my sake and the baby’s. With your love and advice to help me, I can overcome all obstacles to success! If you sink down you will drag me with goo—remember that!” "Don’t talk of me dragging you down, you hard-hearted man! Where have you placed me? I wae a fool to marry you! My father gave me everything. He never bad any bad luck

until be took you into the firm. Now yon want me to give up my friends, the opera, and my parties, and live on corned beef and cabbage, like any common laborer’# wife. HI not do It, sir, and I defy yon!” That the woman was half crazed by her misfortunes none doubted, for she had to be carried by main force from her home after the furniture had been sold at auction “Make room there!” cried the burly policeman, as he elbowed his way through the dense erbwd that had congregated at the door of Cotton ft Co.’e dry goods store. “She’s not a common thief, sir!" cried a pale, anxious-looking lad of ten years, grasping the blue coat sleeve of the officer. “Shan’t I call a carriage, sir?” "A thief’s a thief, my boy, ahd they’re common enough,” said the policeman, laughing at his own dull joke. “But if she’s able to pay for a carriage, I’ve no objection to taking a ride.” “Will you please let her stand inside the door, sir, out of the crowd, then, till I bring one?” Something in the sad, pleading tone of the boy touched the heart of the guardian of the peace, and he consented. The woman who had been taken into custody wgs a beautiful blonde of thirty-two or thereabouts, well dressed and ladylike in appearance. Several pieces of rich lace and two pairs of gloves she had been seen to secrete about her person. This was not the first time she had been Buspected in the same store. “Why don’t you go home, boy?” said the policeman, as the pale lad lingered about the door of the courtroom. “Why do you take such an interest in the pftfeoner?" t “Because she Is my mother, sir,” and the pale face became paler, and the quick tears stared, and chased each other down the wan cheek. “Have you a father, boy?” “Yes, sir.” “Why.don’t you go and fetch him?" “I think it would kill him, sir.” “Then he doesn’t know that your mother is a thief?” “Don’t call her that name. She can’t help it, sir. Father says so; but he is in delicate health, and it would kill him to know that she was arrested. Will she be Bent to jail, do yon think, sir?” and the thin white hands were clasped together in an agony of supplication. "That’s according to whether they bring in a verdict agin’ her or in her favor, my boy; and I hardly think It will be the latter, seeing as the articles were found on her.” The prisoner, as my readers will conjecture, was none other than the once admired Mary Sylvester. Indulged and pampered in her childhood and youth, she found herself unable to cope with poverty when her bankrupt husband fell sick and could ho longer give her money to spend in extravagant dress. Thu| the sin of the parent was visited on the child. The poor woman was pronounced a victim of the species of insanity called “kleptomania”—a morbid desire to steal; a form of insanity sometimes brought on by extravagance and selfishness. She was so shocked and shamed by the discovery of her crime that, before the trial, she took her life in her cell, and thus the sad beginning ended in a fearful tragedy.