Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 38, Number 241, 18 August 1913 — Page 8

PAGE EIGHT

THE RICHMOND PALLADIUM AND SUN-TELEGRAM, MONDAY, AUGUST 18, 1913 PALLADIUM'S MAGAZINE AND HOME

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f MARRIED LIFE SECOND YEAR

BY MABEL HERBERT URNER. WARREN'S mother was to have the family Christmas dinner. The dinner was to be at two o'clock ; and after dinner there was to be a ') tree for the "grandchildren." The ! "grandchildren" of course meant ' Carrie's children, for Helen's baby was only four months old. '. Helen knew that she must go; for ; Warren's sake she would have to go. But she looked forward to it with anything but pleasure. She knew that Carrie and "Carrie's children" would bo the center of interest as they always were. She never went there to a family dinner that she did not come away hurt and indignant i at some slight or flagrant inattention. Warren said it was partly her fault ' because she was always cold and reserved with his people. Rut how could she help that when she never felt comfortable or at eaae with them? And she had never forgotten nor forgiven their treatment of her when she first ; went there aft a bride. Carrie had had all the family at her house for dinner Thanksgiving. But i Helen had positively refused to go. She knew they would have to go to his mother's for Christmas, and she told ; Warren most emphatically that she ' would not go to both. So he made the I excuse that they wanted one holiday . dinner alone together. HELEN'S TURN. Of course Carrie had not liked it Indirectly Helen had hoard as much. : And yet, If she had gone, she knew ; Carrie would have managed in some i buttle way to make her most uncom- ' fortable she always did. But now the worst of it was that it was her time to have them all for I New Year's. Since she didn't want ' them, she would have given anything to have gotten out of it, but it was so plainly her turn. While, of course, she had some or them at various times to tea or dinner, she had not given a formal dinner for his people since she had been married. Warren had suggested it several times, but on one excuse or another she had always managed to put it off. But now he insisted that it must be New Year's.

So it had all been arranged almost a month ago. His father and mother and Robert, Frank and Edith made five. And Carrie, her husband and her three children, five more, and she and Warren twelve in all. They had counted it all out. Their dining room would seat twelve, but it would be somewhat crowded. The fact that she had not gone to Carrie's Thanksgiving dinner, might mean that Carrie would not come. Helen secretly hoped that she wouldn't, but as yet she didn't know. THE HOLIDAY BURDEN. Never before had Helen dreaded the holidays as she did this year. A dozen timeB a day she found herself wishing they were over. If only she and Warren could spend them alone together, or with a few congenal friends! But "his people" dominated everything. Warren had been raised with the idea that the holiday time was one of close family reunions. Buty he did not seem to realize that as they were not her people, how hard it all was for Helen. And the baby made it harder. She had always secretly resented the fuss

and attention that were given to Carrie's children, but now that she had one of her own, which she felt would not receive half the attention, she knew how much more jealous and resentful she would be. She felt that it would be much better not to take the baby to the Christmas dinner. She wanted to say that Winifred had a cold and had to be left with the nurse that, too, would give an excuse for leaving early. But Warren had insisted most strongly that the baby must go. On that point he seemed immovable. And she knew he was planning to spend the whole day. Dinner was to be at two, the Christmas tree after that, and then they were invited to stay for supper and the evening. PREMONITORY FEAST. It would be the first time she had ever had the baby there. How would

she act? Suppose the strange surroundings should frighten her? What if she

should cry most of the time? Helen pictured her own mortification and Carrie's quiet air of superiority, for Carrie's babies had always been

i "good." She was constantly being told what model babies they had been. But there was another reason why j she dreaded to take the baby a rea

son she did not like to admit even to herself. While Winifred was far prettier than when she was born, she was still not a "beautiful" baby. No amount of mother-love could make Helen think that. She was not homely her little features were straight and very good. Her hair was so fine and silky and so light in color that it looked as though there were none at all. And Carrie's babies had all been "beautiful" even when they were young. The whole family had pictures

of them everywhere. Lawrence, Carj rie's husband, had a kodak, and from I the number of babies pictures, Helen ; thought he must have spent most of ! his time photographing them. DREAD AND JEASOUSY. They were taken in their bath, in ; their baby-carriages, asleep in all conceivable poses! And they were always ; pretty. Why Helen had to admit that. I They all had beautiful dark hair, and plenty of it, and now to take Winifred ' 1 with her little bald head, and have ; them compare her with the pictures ; of "Carrie's babies- that hung every

where! She couldn't tell Warren of her feelings about this, he wouldn't understand. And even if he would, still she couldn't have told him. Her mother pride would guard, even from her husband, the secret fear that she might not be proud of her baby! Everything together, she felt she had never dreaded the holidays as sh dreaded them this year. And the presents! The whole fama had always given Carrie's babies such expensive presents. She had seen the silver cup and silver rattles and feeding spoons that had been given to Car rie's first baby. What if in this respect, too, they should make a marked difference with hers. She tried not to dwell- on ther things. She knew her jealous envy and comparison of his family's favoritism toward Carrie's children was growing upon her. She knew that it would only bring her many heartaches and much bitterness. And yet she felt her helplessness to crush it out.

THE MUSIC OF THE RAN

By WINIFRED BLACK. Here the music of the rain. On the roof and window pane, Filling down, railing down. HERE'S the little brown hoired boy who used to sing the simple old song where can any one tell me? Yars ago I sow him last, tall und gawky, he was then, awkward, too, aud shy, but his eyes beamed with hope and were bright with courage. Going west to be a cowboy he'd read all about them how they rode the ranges and sang to the cfttle and how brave they were and how gentle and generous. Poor boy, I wonder how he felt when he met his fir--t cowboy, and found out that he was just Uncle Biliie's hired man, only morose. I wonder how he likd the roug'a horse play of the branding camp and whether he really liked to see a little soft eyed yearling thrown and branded, "just for fun." I wonder if he found it any more romantic to ride the range than It was to go after the cows when he yas a borefoot down at Grand Pass. What did he do then the boy with

the brown hair and the hopeful eyes? I have looked for his name in vain, in the lists of the cattle kings where did he go what sort of man did he make? He was such a good little fellow while he was little and he had such a sweet voice. That's when he used to sing "The music of the

rain" and sometimes when it thundered a little harder than he thought

quite safe he lifted his voice and sang harder than ever, 'On the roof and window pane," only he called it "woof" in those days when he sings now. to keep his courage up. Or is it all gene, the courage, gone with the hope in his eyes and the trust he carried in his heart. Gone with the beliefs he had that women

wore all angels and most men were j heroes, gono with the firt chock he i cashed for an agreeable stranger.

Gone when the chum he loved threw the blame of some foolish mistake on hiui, and slunk away. Gone with the coming of the first line in the boyish face. 'Hear the music of the rain.

; o.i the roof and window pane," it tin

kles on the roof today, the rain, it sighs against the window pune, and the sturdy little maples that stand close to the window bow their heads

MIRRORS AND MILLINERY

Bv Nell Brinklev

As It Is for Her Now

and Used to Be.

wP?l te..

Nell Brinkley Says

A LITTLE girl was deeply interested in mirrors and millinery. She was eight and her legs were just longing out and she wore little pinafores with blue flowers on 'em, tied over her meagre little shoulders. She Fat on a gray rock with her little bare, scratched feet hanging down into the cool sedges close to the stream side. Her hair was all in black rings around her face. On top of the black rings was a sailor hat. Its outermost ring of straw was ripped loose and flipped up and down with a nonchalance that only a ring of ripped straw on a hat can show. Down into the green mystery of the water she looked sometimes. Here her round pinky face lay smooth, with the sailor hat above it. A maid and a mirror and millinery!

A big girl was deeply interested in mirrors and millinery. She was twenty-eight and her legs now were very long and she wore a brocaded blouse with an Elizabethan ruff over her round beautiful shoulders. She sat on a little gilt chair with her satin-clad feet making their pretty imprint in the green depths of a velvet carpet. Her. hair was all in black rings around her face. On top of the black rings was a tulle hat. In the tip-top of its crown was the charming name of a Paris maker of chapeaux. On its tip-top was a great butterfly bow poised with half-folded wines. Into the silver mystery of the mirror she looked sometimes. Here her slender lovely face was held with the tulle hat above It. A maid and a mirror and millinery. It was the same girl!

Pension Removes

Cause of Unfitness

' and are grateful for the benediction , of the clouds. J "Falling down, falling down" does i it fall upon you somewhere, little boy, now grown tall or are you housed and comforted from all th? wet and chill? Do you ride in state at the discomfort of the storm or do you trudge afoot, humbly to some humble tome. Happy, is it? I hope so, and are there little brown . headed tykes to climb into your arms and beg you to sing to them about the

' rain and the music of it gone dear ; little boy,go:ie with the crowding I years yet it never rains here in the

quiet village but I think of you and wonder where you wander and if you have forgotten how to sing: "Hear the music of the rain On the roof and window pane." I hope the world has used you well and that you have not forgotten all that you meant to be. I hope there is no woman breaking her h?crt anywhere today, because you have not

remembered. I hope no man has trustj ed you in vain. I hope no little child : is the worse for your presence in the world. You were ro good and so true

when you were little. "Falling down, falling down," Hark, who is that at the gate what if it should be from the ends of the earth, ragged, beaten, wrecked, how I would run to meet you, little boy, who used to sing how I would run! It's Just the mail and nothing but a bill or 60. and a perfunctory note

'from one who wants to make me think she cares for me. "Hear the ' music of the rain." shall I ever hear i you sing again anywhere beyond the stars, sweet voice so long silent in my ears. Brave heart and light remember for just one second the ; old song and the old friends today while the soft rain falls.

Missouri holds fifth place in the

United States in cement output.

T HE unfitness of mother of I dependent children, conI piaimd of by crganited chanty," is n my opinion all caused by poverty. "The mother s iviifion law recently enacted by the loctslatures cf eighteen States, will, to a sr. at extent make the unft mother ft l-eoause the pension removes the cause of her unfitness, which is lu-r poverty "It is the common observsoa that the very fine and er fit nukher becomes comparatively unfit to take care of her children after a few years of hopeless struggle with poverty. "The mistake or organized chanty is their allowing good mothers of dependent children to be made unfit by the poison of poverty, the poison of hopelessness . the poison of overwork iu trying to earn the living for their children at hard work and give proper care to their children at the pa me time. Organized charity contend that a mother should have her children taken away from her because poverty haa made her temporarily unfit. "The real friends of the poor, tha advocates of mothers' pension, believe that the mother should have the cause of her unfitness removed and not her children. HENRY NEIU" Unfit Mothers Caused by Poverty Open to Doubt. Mothers' pensions now extend from coast to coast. One can now travel from the Atlantice Ocean to the Pacific Ocean going through mother' pension States only, starting on the coast of New Jersey and going through Pennsylvania. Ohio. Michigan. Illinois. Iowa. Nebraska. Colorado. Utah. Nevada to the coast of California. Other mothers' pension States are Washington. Oregon. Idaho. South Dakota. Minnesota. Massachusetts. New Hampshire eighteen in all. Three cities that have local mothers' pension laws are Kansas City, St, Louis and Milwaukee. Meantime the statement of Mr. Neil that the unfit mothers are caused by poverty is open to doubt. Some of the most unfit mothers to be found on earth are women of wealth. Two little girls on board a large ocean liner were the daughters of a New York banker, and their mother was an educated woman and their father was a man cf parts: yet there were never seen on earth more insufferably disagreeable children than these. They were ill-mannered. Impertinent, unkind and ungracious. The chief steward In the dining salon was obliged to rebuke them for their impertinence and their annoying treatment of other passengers. The children she had should have been taken away from such parents and placed under wise and worthy instructors. A woman who has been reared with excellent opportunities for culture, is the mother of four children. There is no financial strain upon the family, yet the children have never been taught any of the gracious and lovely traits

' which help to build a worthy characI t,r on1 a nTflelv9 nArcnmHtv

Every School and Church Should Have a Criticisjn Committee. Loud, harsh voices, flat contradictions, continual quarreling and the most disagreeable qualities distinguish this family. Such parents are certainly unfit to bring up farolies. X fund for the erection of a large scientific lnetitutionv such as Dr. Elmer Gates has alwt-y longed to see established, would te a benefit to the world, an institution where the brain cells of vulgar and disorderly children as well as the perverted and viciously inclined, could be developed into constructive qualities. Every school and church In the land ought to have a "Criticism Committee, such as existed in the Oneida Community years ago. To this commute every person who had a complaint to make of the manners or conduct of another member of the community went, and the committee called the offending person with the complaint, and the whole subject was calmly and thoroughly investigated. And reproof was administered where It belonged, and if It was proTen that any personal or selfish or jealous feelings prompted the complainant, he was the one reproved and pub-

t Continued on Page Nine.)

"S'MATTER POP?"

By C. Af. Payne

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