Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 38, Number 227, 1 August 1913 — Page 10

TmKiraimjiTarAlXADIUM AND SUN-TELEGRAM, FRIDAY, AUGUST 1, 1913

T I PALLADIUM'S MAGAZINE AND HOME PAGE

BE A WOMAN

The Saying

'Be a Man" Ought to Be Changed in Cer- , tain Circumstances. !

BY BEATRICE FAIRFAX. THE boy, a big husky youth of eighteen, had complained Incessantly of his troubles all day. "Oh," I Baid at last in some Impatience, "why can't you be a little braver? For pity's sake, try to be a man!" The words had no sooner left my lips than I fell to wondering. I had urged him to Be a Man! If I could take him by the arm and lead him to some man who would be to him a shining example, where would I find him? Where could I find a man who would bare his back to the rod and make no complaint? Was there a man who could teach him patience, gentleness, forbearance, charity, tenderness? Was there a man whom he could emulate, day after day, and increase his strength in so doing? I cast my eyes around all the men I knew in search of one who on all occasions knew how to be a man. One was quick of temper, irritable, rash, headlong, and though withal a good man, the boy would find no instructions there in the lesson of patience everyone must learn. Another blustered about his bravery and fooled all but those who knew that when there was a mysterious Boise at his house in the night, his wife had to investigate. Another had a reputation widespread for philanthropy, and only the

close-observing saw that his family lacked the necessities of life in order that he might enjoy seeing his name on the billboards with an imposing row of figures after it. All cared more for their own creature comforts than for the well-being of the wife who supplied them. All complained loudly of a little pain, and there was not a man among them w ho did not say often to his wife, "Look, what a burden our marriage has put on my shoulders!" taking no note of the greater burden bending her back. All were selfish, thinking only of the gratification of their own desires and showing a regard for others only in the degree to which they supplied them. There were few who had both physical and moral courage, and almost none as good in their thoughts as the law compelled them to be in their actions. Then there passed before my eyes a procession of women, patient under long suffering, brave when every one around them faltered, denying themselves that they might give to those they loved, cheerful and smiling when there wasn't a scrap of hope left, inspiring, cheering, urging on the men who walked beside them and throwing arms of protecting tenderness around husband and children! It was a noble sight. It filled my eyes with tears, and I felt an emotion too deep, and somehow too sacred, to find vent in cheering. "I will take it back." I said to the young man. "Don't be a man! Be a woman!"

THE PRICE HE PAID BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. (Copyright, 1913, by American-Journal- Examiner.)

1SAID I would have my fling, And do what a young man may; And I didn't believe a thing That the parsons have to say. I didn't believe in a God That gives us blood like fire, Then flings us into hell because We answer the call of desire. And I said: "Religion is rot. And the laws of the world are nil; For the bad man is he who is caught And cannot foot his bill. And there is no place called hell; And heaven is only a truth, When a man has his way with a maid, In the fresh keen hour of youth. "And money can buy us grace, . If It rings on the plate of the church ; And money can neatly erase Each sign of a sinful smirch." For I saw men everywhere, Hotfooting the road of vice; And women and preachers smiled on them As long as they paid the price. So I had my joy of life; I went the pace of the town; And then I took me a wife, And started to settle down.

I had gold enough and to spare For all of the simple joys That belong with a house and a home And a brood of girls and boys. I married a girl with health And virtue and spotless fame. I gave in exchange my wealth And a proud old family name. And I gave her the love of a heart Grown sated and sick of sin! My deal with the devil was all cleaned up, And the last bill handed in. She was going to bring me a child, And when in labor she cried, With love and fear I was wild But now I wish she had died. For the son she bore me was blind And crippled and weak and sore! And his mother was left a wreck. It was so she settled my score. I said I must have my fling, And they knew the path I would go; Yet no one told me a thing Of what I needed to know. Folks talk too much of a soul From heavenly joys debarred--And not enough of the babes unborn, By the sins of their fathers scarred.

MARRIED LIFE THE FIRST YEAR

GRANDFATHER INSISTS

By MABEL HERBERT URNER. Since the baby's birth, nothing had been said about its name. For weeks before, Helen had thought of countless names. She had spent many happy hours dreaming of what she could call her baby her beautiful, goldenhaired, blue-eyed baby! She had made a list of names and talked them over with Warren. If it were to be a boy, she wanted most of all to call it after its father. But Warren had vigorously protested. One "Warren" In the. family, he said was Quite enough! And he believed in giving children individual names of their own, and not those of their parents. This had killed a secret hope that Helen had long cherished that if It should be a little girl, he would insist on calling it after her. Elimination. But with their own names eliminated, Helen's fancy had hovered uncertainly around many others. Warren was inclined to the strong, oldfashioned names like John, Mary and Elizabeth. But Helen wanted something more modern, and, as Warren said, more "romantic and novelish." Richard and Winifred headed her list. Warren laughed, and said as long as she did not insist on Reginald and Geraldlne,

he wouldn't offer serious objections to anything else. But now that the baby had come,

i and it was neither blue-eyed or golden-

haired, but was instead, a very homely, red-faced, bald-headed little girl, Helen had not the heart to talk of names. And she was grateful to Warren for his silence on that subject. They just called it "baby" that seemed quite sufficient for the time. They didn't even use the feminine pronoun. "It's crying," or "it's asleep" was what they usually said. It was Warren's fattier who first brought up the question of the name. For days Helen had been dreading the time when he would come to see the baby. She begged Warren not to let him come just yet, to put him off on some pretext until she was stronger and the baby a little older. But one afternoon, wholly unexpected, he stopped at Warren's office and insisted on going home with him said it was quite time he saw "that baby!" Warren was helpless. He did not even have a chance to telephone to Helen. When they reached the apartment, they found her in an old wrapper, her hair in disorder. She had just got

j the baby to sleep, and was sorting out

MRS. CHATFIELD-TAYLOR

A Study

By NELL BRINKLEY

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Nell Brinkley bays

1AM flying r.hout this big western wonder-town, whose people on the streets are dear to me, whose pulse beats in tune to mine own, whose kindness and fineness are like a familiar smile, whose ways are my ways, whose spirit rouses and stirs me all because I can put the word western betore Its name. I am spying about it in a vast hurry, getting sketches of brainy, pretty and gracious women of the town, and bits of babyhood from beaches and streets and stretches of green park. Here is the first Chicago woman. This picture was caught in the country. Mrs. Hobart Chat-field-Taylor is a slender, tall woman with the free walk of an athlete, a fine, dark' head with the hair bended low over her

brow as the French women Paul Helleu's vision-like, spirited etchings wear it. Her brows are straight where they spring from above the nose which means, they say. sincerity. Her eyes are humid and soft, a little baffling, much amused at something, I should fancy, most of the time. Her mouth, too, is amused, firm, as her chin is, yet both are womanly and soft. I found in her face beautiful eyes, the flaring nostrils of the feeler, the mouth of a woman with a sense of humor, the smooth temples and cheeks of a child, the chin of a leader. About her throat she wore a broad velvet band that deepened the dark of her eyes. She wore a linen gown of white, with its deep white collar turned out over a sporting coat of rose color, white shoes, and her head bare.

it Martha after your grandmother Curtis." Why. I i n teave that to Helen.Warren answered very much embarrassed I don't think I should like Martha." Hekn said coldly. "Cathrin- Next. "Then how about Catherine. Warren's greataunt was Catherine Catherine Curtis a very fine woman, too. That would be an excellent name. You'd better decide rijiht now on Catherine." Mr Curtis." Iielen' roce as very icy. "Warren and I would prefer to name our baby ourseIv.T And now, since you have awakened It. tf you will kindly go into the other room, perhaps I can quiet it apain. I don't think I can while you are here." It was the first time any member of the Curtis family had ever had the courage to t-per.k to him like that Just what blustering reply he would have made, they never knew, for Warren quickly touched him on the arm and drew him into the other room. "Come, father. Ht len is nervous and unstrung, and it so hard for her when the baby cries She really isn't well enough to see any one yet "Well, evidently, the child has Inherited some of her temper, from the way it screams." Mr. Curtis retorted angrilly. Helen Protests. Warren flushed, but refrained from making any comment. There mas nothing to be gained by antagonizing his father. He only wanted to mollify him. to get him off quickly, without any further scene. He succeeded at last, and hurried back to Helen In the nursery. She had almost quieted the baby, but her own eyes were full of angry, indignant tears. "Dear, you mustn't mind father, that's only his way." "Oh. that's what you always say! But for him to come here at this time and deliberately wake the baby and upset me" "Yes. I know he shouldn't. It was most uncalled for." '"And that he should presume to name the baby in that peremptory, off-hand way!" "Yes. I know," he admitted. "It was unpardonable, but try not to think about it any more. The Point Evaded. It was not until later in the evening that he said doubtfully: "I suppose that we should name the baby soon." "Yes. but not now. I'd like to wait a little longer a few weeks more. She didn't want to explain even to him. that all the names she thought of were for beautiful, golden-haired, laughing babies; not ror the poor homely little baby that was now whimpering in her arms. And she wanted to wait until It was a little older, hoping that It would be a little less unattractive. Perhaps he understood, for he pressed her hand close to his as he said. quietly: "Very well, dear; well wait,"

Raspbarry Tarts. Raspberry Tartu. Delicious raspberry tarts can be made by cooking paste

t in patty tins. Dlllbg the shells with

rice or beans In waxed paper to keep the paste from bubbling and Ailing tbe shells with fresh raspberries covered with sugar and whipped cream. Raspberry Ice Cream. ThU Ic cream calls for three pints of raspberries. Cover and mix ttiem with a cupful of sugar and let them stand for an hour. Mix three pints of cream with a cupful and a half of sugar and tw tablespoonfuls of sherry. Freeze, and when stiff take out the dasher. Put the berries and sugar In tbe cavity where tbe dasher was and set away In ice and salt for an hour and a balf.

some flannels which had come from the laundry. Her confusion and embarrassment were painful. She had always disliked and feared her father-in-law, and for him to find her like this! Grandfather's Advent. "And where is that baby?" he asked in his curt brusque way. "It's in the nursery. I've just got it to sleep!" "Well. I must see that baby. That's what I came for. Is this the nursery in here?" starting toward the door. "I'm afraid if you wake it up it will cry." Helen objected nervously. "Oh, well, babies must cry; it's

good for them. Oh, here'3 the little shaver." He was bending over the crib now. Only the top of the baby's head and its little red clinched firsts were visible. Helen stood on the other side of the crib, praying that It wouldn't wake. And then, to her amazement, he deliberately drew the covers from its face. The Baby Awakens. "Oh, father you mustn't awaken it!" protested Warren, who was standing behind Helen. "It's so hard for Helen to get it to sleep." "I'm not going to awaken it, but I can't see it ail covered up like that." But already the baby was awake.

It gave one bewildered look up at the unfamiliar face bending over it. and then began to cry not an ordinary baby whimper, but an angry, protesting scream. It had never been abruptly awakened before, and it was loudly proclaiming its wrath. With an indignant glance at her father-in-law, Helen took it up and tried to soothe it. But it had never screamed so loudly; its face had never seemed so red, nor its mouth so large. Helen was miserably conscious that" Mr. Curtis was watching it critically. She tried to shield its face in her arms. But it persisted in wriggling around so it could be plainly seen. It

was all she could do to repress her own tears of anger and mortification. "Martha" Proposed. "And what are you going to call it?" her father-in-law asked, quite unperturbed, when the baby stopped to catch its breath. "We haven't talked of that yet," Helen answered, with as much dignity as. under the circumstances she could assume. "You haven't talked or it" yet?" brusquely. "Why, the child is, how old? Four weeks, isn't it?" "Four weeks and five days." "Well, it must be named. It must be named and christened at once. Call

Beilad Svt Applatf Take five nice. i1ns. aoples halve and core them, place to- a kettle, sprinkle with four teaspoonfuls brewn sugar. Add water enough to boil well , over the apples. Cover and let them cook until tender and tbe Juice la liecoming thick. Then with a silver fork or spoon lift tbe bottom piece, letting the top ones down Into tbe sirup. Cook from twenty to thirty minutea

' longer, being canful not to burn them. These are much nicer than baked apI pies. ! Pan Dowdy, i Pie crust, apples, two cnpfuls of aug- ! ar. one tearoonful of cinnamon, one ! cupful of cider. Line tbe side of a J deep baking pan with common pie i crust. All It with apples, pared, cored : and quartered. Add the sugar, cinna- ! mon and cider. Cover It with rather : a thick crust. Bake It slowly four hours, tbf-n break in tbe crust and mix it well with the apples. Eat with , cream.

I I Whitman's sample chocolates, the ; moat popular box on the market, can ; be had at Price's.

"S' MATTER POP?"

BvC.M. Payne

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