Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 38, Number 276, 27 September 1913 — Page 10

f PAGE TEN

THE RICHMOND PALLADIUM AND SUN-TELEGRAM, SATURDAY, SEPT. 27, 1913 PALLADIUM'S MAGAZINE AND HOME PAGE Married Life the Second Year THE LOVER AND THE WALNUT Copyright, 1913, International News Service By Nell Brinkley

My MABEL HERBERT URNER. I Kl-EN was up at half past Ave - I Their train left at 10:50, but there was lots to be done before then. Her trunk had been locked tnd ntrapped the night before and was standing ready in the hall. But many many things were still to be put In Vier ban 1 has? and suit case. She took her hath and moved around very quietly not to awaken Warren and her mother. There was no need for them to be up ho early. It wa just six when she stole softly into Warren's room for some needed articles. He was sound asleep, his arms stretched straight out in the boysb way he usually slept. His face was turned partly from her, but the strong ;ines of his form were outlined under che covers. No woman can see the man she loves in the helpless consciousness of sleep without arousing the strongest Instinct of her nature the material tenderness. And now as Helen looked down at him, the tears filled her eyes, and the old aching pain clutched her heart. For the moment she forgot all fiis coldness and indifference and selfishness and remembered only that he was the man she loved. With an overwhelming tenderness she knelt by the bed. She could feel his soft regular breeding. There was no harshness in his face now, it was seftne and tranquil. WAS I TALL A DELUSION. Surely it was all a mistake. Why could they not be happy together? Why must she go on this visit? Pernaps they had all been laboring under nome horrible delusion. And when he awoke now everything would be "right" and would be kind and loving. Strange fancies of the old witchcraft days rushed through her mind. How people had been possessed of demons; how it changes their whole nature, and how they would suddenly awake to find they were themselves again. Absurd as the fancy was, as she knelt there gazing at his sleeping face she tried to believe that when he awoke everything would be different, everything would be "right." And that he would take her in his arms and say Me could not let her leave him not even for a visit. Suddenly he stirred in his sleep and threw his arm out toward her. She nestled closer, her lips against the soft Btuff of his sleeves. Again he stirred, his ans over his head and yawned. He opened his eyes ind closed the mand yawned again, and then he saw Helen kneeling beside the bed. "Hello! What are you doing here? What time is it?" "About six," hastily brushing the tears from her eyes. "Six? What on earth are you waking me up for?" "Didn't mean to wake you dear. I just came in here to get some things." THE EN DOF THE DREAM. "Well hurry up, and get them, I want to sleep an hour yet. And he turned over, his back toward her. She rose from her knees and left the room. She finished the packing, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Her mother was up by 7. At half past she heard Warren running the water for his

bath. But she did not see him until

he came into breakfast. j "Now that the train leaves at 10:50 j I'll meet you at the station at half j

past. "Why, Warren, I thought you were to stay and take us down!" "What's the use of that? You can get a taxi and go down, can't you? And I can get through a whole hour's work at the office before I meet you." "But - t 1 -thought you might want

to be with us until we started." ' "If there in anything you want me !

to do. I'll stay. But if there isn t what s the sense of my .Jjan.fjng around here all that time." ' "No, there is nothing I want you to do," quietly. "I a mall packed now." "Well, then, be sure and be there on time. You'd better order a taxi for two. It will take you half an hour to set down. Here, give me your tickets.

it would be just like you to forget i

them. She brought him the tickets, and with another warning for him not to be late, he hurried off. The next, half hour was spent in giving final directions to Delia as to the care of the apartments and Warren's comfort. Delia promised to do her best and to write to Helen twice a week. WARREN AT THE TRAIN. At a quarter to ten, Helen was all ready even to the heavy veil which she fastened over her hat. The taxi came promptly at ten. They reached the station a few- minutes before half past. Warren met them at the main entrance and hurried them through. "The train is already made up, we can go on now." He took Winifred and Helen and her mother followed him out through the station and down the long platform to the train. He looked at the sleeper tickets. "Athena, Here you are right here." nodding toward the name of the car. The porter helped them up. "What section, sir?" Again Warren consulted the tickets. "Lower 6 and 8." Helen took Winifred, while Warren arranged their suit cases and bags. "Now you'll be all right. Comforta

ble berths these, in the middle of the car." ! "Could you open a window." asked Helen's mother. "It seems so close in here. Warren raised the window. "You won't get, much air through these serenes, but it will cool off when the train starts." Helen had not spoken. She was struggling desperately with her tears behind the heavy veil. Now that the moment of parting had come she felt she could not bear it. "Well," glancing at his watch, "it's 10:45, and these trains draw out pretty much on time." Helen leaned over and whispered appeallngly, "Warren, say good-bye to mother here, and I will go out with you to the vestibule." Helen wanted to be alone with him at the last. Now even before her mother could she bid him good-bye. Warren shook hands with Mrs. Allen, "Well I hope you'll have a comfortable trip. Take good care of Helen and Winifred." Helen had never seen him kiss Winifred as tenderly as he did now. He eemd loath to part with her, and

I know a chap a darling young chap who' sa winner at all things. . Or he was until he ran face to face with the "Golden Girl." The girl who made his heart a house of pain who made all other girls in the world look like the glass set in the brass ring you get in a "prize" candy box alongside of a blue diamond! He has tact and sweetness, honesty and tenderness, and he's a "crack" at every game that takes personal bravery, mental courage, skill and patience. And just the sort to take a girl's eyes and heart with him every move he makes if he'll only "act natural!" In this his biggest game he has still his courage, but his skill and tact, his sweetness and patience, have gone off and left him right in the spot on the highway where he needs them the most. He's trying to win the Golden Girl with a club! like a cave man. He bullies her and he scolds her, and he tries to prove to her where she's "mad" not to love him, and he calls upon all the gods of a man in love to witness how cold her heart is! And the girl, while he's breaking his heart for her,

is all tight in her little shell and she won't come out. He is still sane enough to have a sneaking notion that she loves him a little to know that she isn't really such an icy little woman and to wonder dimly why she is holding out in such fashion. So he agonizes and fumes and raves and goes after the nut with a sledge-hammer! And there isn't a sound from within, and the shell holds tight without a crack! If he'd only remember the fairy story of the gnome who loved and wanted the pixie in the walnut. He pounded and toiled and sweat with his heavy stone sledge. And then he sat upon the nut and wept bitter tears that tasted salty where they ran close to his lips. Now wielding a sledge wasn't the only thing the gnome could do. He could play so sweetly on a tiny violin that even the shy tree frog would lean and listen. So he dried his tears and rubbedt his face with his red coat sleeve and managed a smile, and tucking, jjii inusic box under his chin he drew the bow across the singing strings and played. And lo! after a few sweet measures the crack of the nut grew slowly wider It

yawned wider to the blue sky, and out of it, into the happy gnome'b heart, crept the timid pixie who lived therein. There are women who answer only the call of the sledge-hammer whose wild hearts leap in violence. But the Golden Girl isn't that kind. Remember the fairy story, boy. Swinging the sledge-hammer isn't the only thing you can do. You've forgotten your violin. Draw your bow across it the very sweetest you know how, and I promise you the shell will open of itself and your elf will fly into your heart. Raving and storming isn't the only strength you have. You've forgotten your sweetness, your tenderness, your cunning. Lay siege with the music of these three, and I swear the Golden Girl will glow and reach to you. Under the pressure of her two white hands the shell will yawn and yield her up. Sometimes It's a hard nut to crack where violence fails and only soft appeal and cunning will avail! NELL BRINKLEY.

HELPING ALONG THE GAME

By DOROTHY DIX. 1 A GREAT many parents wonder why their daughters do not marry. They see other girls, not half so pretty nor attractive as their own, settling themselves comfortably in life with husbands and homes, while their own daughters are headed for the Spinsters' . Retreat, and they puzzle their brains why this is thus, and why one maiden is called to the altar and another left. And it never occurs to them that they, themselves, are their daughters' matrimonial hoodoo. They don't intend to be. Good gracious, no! Far from it! They are. convinced that matrimony is the predestined career for a woman, and that the wedding bell is about the 6iirest dinner bell that ever rings for a girl. If you would accuse them of trying to insure their Mamies and Sadies being old maids, they would indignantly deny the charge. Yet such is the case. They block the love game at every turn instead of pushing it along.

Take the case, for instance, in which the family constitutes itself a committee of criticism that sits in judgment upon every young man that comes to the house and tears him limb from limb. Is any youth going to subject himself to that ordeal if he knows it? Is any girl going to stand for having her men friends vivisected if sican help it? Not much. We are all human and we've all got faults and foibles, but

we don't care to have them discussed and ridiculed, nor do we enjoy having our friends made the target for the near-wit, even of our own family. A PUZZLE. I know a beautiful and charming young girl who is much admired by men, who are much puzzled as to why she never invites them to call upon her at her home, though she evidently enjoys their society elsewhere, and who wonder why, when they suggest coming to see her, that she always makes some excuse to prevent their

doing so. The real reason is because her family consider every beau that she has as their game. Only let a man come to see her and they make merry over his every peculiarity. They imitate his walk and his mannerism and turn him into such a figure of fun that it has made the girl have a perfect horror of having a man come to see hr pi.d thus offering him up as a fresh victim. The family think all of this a merry jest, but about ten years from now, when Sadie's beautv begins to fade, and they realize that she is still hanging on the parent bough, the fact that they kept her from marrying, by making her afraid to have a man come to see her. won't seem so funny. But that's just what they're doing. Family criticism explains why there's many an cld maid. Then there's the family that kills leve's young drer.r.i by ridicule. A maiden's budding fancy is the most delicate and sensitive thing in the world

when he finally put her in Mrs. Allen's arms, and started down the aisle, Helen felt sure there were tears in his eyes. But they were for Winifred not for her. She followed him out to the vestibule. There was no one there, and she put her hand on his shoulders and sobbed outright. "Oh, Warren Warren." "There there," patting her awkwardly on the back. "Oh, Warren say something before I

soft say that you love me say "but the rest was lost in her sobs. "Why of course I love you. There on't be so foolish. The train's pulling out now. Good-bye! Take good care of yourself." And he dropped off the moving train, waving her a final goodbye. The red plush and gleaming wood of the car blurred before her, as with the veil drawn closer. Helen groped her way back to her seat.

and it can be blighted almost by a breath. Heaven knows why, but a certain poetry and romance must surround a man before a girl can fall in love with him ,and if you tear this away from him there's nothing doing in the sentiment line for her. I once asked a particularly charming old maid why she had never married, and she said that, the reason was that when she was a girl every time any man came courting her her family would make fun of him. They would point out that he had a nose like a beak, or a jaw like a bulldog, or that he waddled when he walked, or that he

sputtered when he talked, and, hav-

ing been made to see him in this abi surd light, she could never again be-

j hold him as the hero of her dreams. J The result was that she kept waiting

for the one perfect man, beyond ramiiy criticism, to come along, and, as he never did, she drifted helplessly into

; spinsterhood. ! Another reason why girls don't marj ry is because they have the misfor- ; tune to have parents who are hinS drances instead of helps. Before you j can pull off a success at an3thing j you've got to have a good chance to do it. and this is as true of matrimony as of business. A girl can't marry unI less she has the opportunity, and it is up to her parents to provide that 1 opportunity. I MANY WAYS. I This can be done in many ways; j by letting a girl go to places where she ! will meet eligible men. by giving her j the best clothes that can be afforded.

! Vicraiico her vnnth i a iYio ennchina in

which a girl must make her matrimonial hay, and chiefly by making the home such a pleasant place that men

i will like to come to it. i Yet there are mothers and fathers j who make every young man who j comes to the house feel as if he was ; an interloper, or a burglar, with the i very natural consequences that no youth has the courage to encounter j such an inhospitable reception a sec

ond time, and an tne men m tne community flock around some girl whose parents give them the glad hand. Believe me, mother and father have just

as much to do with making Mamie

and Sadie a belle as the girl's own attractions have. Another reason why so many girls are old maids is because their parents haven't enough sense to get out of the way and give a man a chance to make love. How can a fellow have the nerve to make love to a girl when father is sitting by the drop light, not six feet away, reading the evening paper, and mother and Aunt Jane are gossipping within earshot, and little brother is listening behind the portiere? And how can a girl play up her little arts and artifices with the family looking on, ready to guy her about it as soon as the front door

, closes behind the man? iTHEY FORGET. j Every man and woman must rej member how they acted in their own I courting days, and yet in spite or this '. you will hear a father say that he is not going to let Sally and her fool J beaux drive him out of his own favor

ite chair in his own sitting room. Very well. Let him stick to it if he wants Sally to be an old maid and to have to support her instead of her having a husband to do it. Of course, the architects that arrange modern flats don't take love-

; making into account. They crowd the little winged god out, which is per

haps one reason why there s less marrying in cities than there is in the country and small town. The moral of all of which is that if you want your girls to marry you must give them a chance. You must help along the love game, not strew tacks in its way.

A SHOEMAKER

One of the most eminent English shoemakers was William Gifford, the first editor of the Quarterly Review. He was born in 1757, a delicate, puny lad. whose childhood was full of vicissitudes. After a short school education during which he showed great aptitude, he was apprenticed to a shoemaker: and we read of his working out problems in algebra on a piece of leather with a blunted awl. An "algebra" was one of his most cherished possessions; that, together with Thomas a Kempis and a black letter romance, where the main Rource of his boyish inspiration; and before long, he plunged into literature on his own acount, earning an occasional sixpence by reciting his poems. As a shoemaker's apprentice, however, he was not a success, and some worthy people subscribed to send him to school again. From this point his career developed with wonderful rapidity. He won a clerkship at Exeter college, took a B. A. degree, became tutor to Lord Grosvenor's son, and finally published a translation of Juvenal, and

two satires, which attracted the notice of the literary world. Soon he was drawn into the strife of politics. He edited first the AntlJacobin, which was brought ont by Canning and his friends; and finally, in 1S09, became editor of the Quarterly Review. Some eminent Tories were associated in the undertaking. Canning and Barrow, Southey and Croker all lent It their support; but the editor was the most aggresire Tory of them all. A strain of sourness and bitterness persisted throughout Gifford's fortunate career. It occasionally made him enemies. Southey complained sadly, his ruthless treatment of authors and their works. He was said to have been the originator of the assault upon Keats "Endymlon." His judgments were harsh, and he had manifestly the "temper" as Socrates would have put it "not of a philosopher, but of a partisan." Yet no character is without its savage grace, and it Is kindly reported of him that he loved children and animals.

Why Women Have Nerves

The "blues" anxiety sleeplessness and warnings of pain and dis-T ffl tres are sent by the nerves like flying messengers throughout body and't F limbs. Such feelings may or may not be accompanied by backache or

MRS ADA BERNHARDT TO DELIVER ADDRESS Mrs. Ada L. Bernhardt, of this city, will address the Indiana Library association on the second day of its annual

I meeting, which will be held at Marion, i Ind., October 15, 16 and 17, according

, to the program announced yesterday, i L. J. Bailey, librarian of the Gary j Public library, is president of the as- j ! sociatlon, and Miss Julia Mason, li-, i brarian at Princeton, is secretary. j

headache or bearing down. The local disorders and inflammation, if there is any, should be treated with Dr. Pierce's Lotion Tablets. Then the nervous system and the entire womanly make-up feels the tonic effect of DR. PIERCE'S FAVORITE PRESCRIPTION when taken systematically and for any period of time. It is not acure-all." ' but has given uniform satisfaction for over forty years, being designed for f A tingle purpose of curing woman's peculiar ailments.

soia in uqum lorm or tablets by druggists or send 50 one-cent stamps for a box of Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription Tablets. Ad. Dr. R.V. Pierce, Buffalo, N.Y.

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