...tu article and I don't sup-
THIS is not exactly a very deli-
;uso it will make particularly
I
mint reading. bun it needs
or : :igr-rlhtlly.
Anti. so here goes—for my first
1- ;~: r'incnce?
ii 2v «lo you spoon?
you one of those girls who
'. - and carers their young men
f'zl'. View of the passers—by_ in
;,... on commons. by riversidos.
1 on beaches?
tum. you conduct your love-
.,...::.sz Without the slightest re-
, . for what people may be say-
,. tr thinking about you?
rm Mm one of those nuisances
t-itn't visit friends' houses
yu'li' beloved without exas-
; axing the company present by
; billing and cooing and dem-
. 'ritmns of affections which are
l'u'H-r left for moments entirely
pr: ..tu to your two selves?
you one of those married
7...;ln who behave in front of
‘.,r guests just as if they were
[*iw ~slttinz on your husband's
ww. kissing him, and generally
'.iL'lnL: n lovesick silly of your—
\i'r‘ll. i hope not. because I de-
thn lot of them.
I'm all for love and lovers.
liut l‘m still more for love's
.i t'n‘ly.
Into is a very delicate flower,
:2. l in never tired of telling you,
infnl i should think the very worst
thins: for it would be the glare.
tr.» rihnld laughter. the sneers
sol the cold looks when it is
ternly worn for everyone to
fl '- ll.
And yet some lovers and
.. .l,
. l.
l" ..r-
invessr‘a can endure all these un-
Ili‘afialll things with perfect
Humilnity. and even a sort of
prion. I can't understand it my-
i know that courtship in big
«i‘ -s is carried on in very difficult
<..' "lleSlIIiCGS and that lovers
r. l'efldnys. unless they live in the
r irltry, have not the leisure. nor
the space nor the time to devote
:1:
- 1-.....
3’ I“. m‘
—°-—.
cm”. Im. ‘0'
The locusts Norman” W
——h
HOW DO YOU SPOON?
to the pretty arts of love.
The proper time. the proper
Place and the loved one together.
are easier written than accom-
Dllshed!
I know all this and I know the '
lover in the city very often has
nowhere to take his girl but to
the movies. the trolleys and the
parks and all those other places
where he enjoys about as much
privacy as a sparrow.
But even so. love must be
treated with dignity. with respect
and proper pride. A young man
must not subject his belle to the
ridicule of lookers-on—and there
are plenty of these about. all
ready to play gooseberry—when
he kisses her or acts a little too
demonstratively.
I always feel when I go to the
movies and see couples with their
arms round each others' necks.
billing and cooing when the lights
are dim, that a moving picture of
themselves and their antics would
be Just the very thing to make
them sit up (properly) and take
notice.
They would see how utterly un-
becoming and ridiculous they look.
and the young men in particular
—if they were nice young men—
would realise how they are lower-
ing their girls in the eyes of those
who are more or less forced to
watch their lovemaking.
If you have no home in which
to conduct your wooing. you must.
of course. go out into the cold
world and do it there. Nobody ob-
iects to that. But it is when you
let us into the secret of your af-
fections that we make complaints.
Behave like little ladies and
gentlemen, even when you are in
love!
Keep your lovemaking strictly
to yourselves and make of it some.
thing that will leave behind ten-
der and beautiful memories.
Which is something that no pub-
lic spooning is guaranteed to do.
Also don‘t forget that if love
is blind. other people most cer-
tainly are not.
j #—
SHQETSTQRX
The Village Artist’s Revenge
By ELLA SAUNDERS.
WM. 192.9, by The steam Newspaper W
in Preeport. marm. since
~vou went away. Quite a few
of .3 Old folks gone. I guess. MY
" um" Why. yes. there has been
t ”we changes, too. Them pictures?
" 'A. I'm glad you noticed them.
‘” i rrmcmber Ellen?
'.\"; it's queer about Ellen. You
r ’ ’ A when she took lhlt cm. to
r ' . the city and be a painter no-
.. .~ thought very much about it.
you see, “'ill Calder had jut-91
M they said. and I guess it's
-,iftor her father only left her
- ‘2 mired dollars instead of tho
“ .‘.l'ltlS we all thought old Mr.
‘7' ’ ‘l u as \vorth.
W11. she must of been gone
’ .. or ten years, I guess, and here
"- tomes bark—bought the old
't -:r now—and she 'pears to be a
frowns painter, though none or us
-,.—. u it. Making her fifteen thou-
": l rt year. they say. Yes. 3"?“-
; :z's Certainly proud of her daugh-
“Y 53, there's been some changes
‘i. them pictures? Why. an:
it. fed them for me. Charge.
-"~ ‘ihng. Pretty. ain't they? And
I” a painted for a lot of the folks.
it v 1.- for her old name. Wm Calder
"its: say. she's stacked his house
with the paintings she's done for
Jim Pretty scenes! I don't won-
w“? Phe's succeeded."
l Tris looking in wonder at the
men. for, of all the dsuhl I hid
‘ ‘7 seen, these were th‘: “:3.
1* ml. oar-in bands of co r. -
““fitim'ill ":0! things. girls' faces
‘9'“. country scenes -dust what
‘ , 2le appeal to the unsop
If these were sampxlfiswof Elisa
Finns work, then
r' H'y that she was a famous m
'-‘ -: a lie. transparent to the person
b 'h the smallest knowledge of art-
I walked up the hill to Will
”1 I'r‘s place. Will was at work.
i :i his wife remembered me and
s‘N‘Ned me over the bong wit:
Th1“. The living room w“
{Lion's ”infill“ .
".\:n't they pretty!“ ‘1‘ It?
”1“”. "I do think it was sweet 2‘
her rlnlng all these for use—sod :3”
F‘ ”-nt. mind you—floss boa"...
Hui Will used to be friends-
,
she meant that t2: 1::
Lhn more than 0
pf: :2 mm. Thompson'l whim
lnrl been bad, those were
tale—tho vilest dang!“
ovrr seen. Porn!”
ventgred to oflsr the. at I book-
down price of O m M
but I doubted M
Can’t you see the this“? '1"!-
livid blue-sad m the gist.-
of ”immensity-"ma“;
colored M N m w I“
cattle brow“ W hm
greenest 1 I10. ”’ n... I
me. for I M m ,_
was on a W “ fl m '
tn“ 1 u‘
of
me. and I was as pleased to see her.
She had grown refined. spirituous.
l marveled more and more that
such a girl could have painted those
awful things.
I marveled more—I gasped when
I saw the pictures on Ellen's walls.
I recognized two of these as the
work of the young woman painter.
Miriam Keith. who had been the
rage of the season. It was evident
that Ellen appreciated good pic-
tures. Then how in heaven's
name? . . .
it was Ellen who opened the sub-
ject. after I had told her that I had
called on Mrs, Thompson and Will.
"I suppose you are wondering
about the paintings?" she asked
slowly.
"Well—yes." I ventured.
"I.” said Ellen. "am hfiriam
Keith."
I sat gasping at her like a.
stranded nsh.
”You see. when I went to New
York I chose to take another name.
I wanted nothing to remind me of
this hateful place. I was an un.
sophisticated girl. 1—! succeeded at
last. Then. when I was rich. I felt
the longing for a country place. and -
I bought the old house. Here 1
shall remain Ellen Nash. In New
York I am Miriam Keith. Now—do
you understand?"
She said no more. but suddenly I
andthersmgsoftheartistupou
people who had gossiped about
w, M about her. These pictures
on their own level. and she
[and tall: a clever and such a subtle
a?
”new“!
“www.moetofan.
gang up his house with those
trashy
there
story
IWWW'”
Elisa : v... y‘ . . . 2”
to w ‘
"it“
in
‘u’.
TEMWWTIENM
J
\l
t.
6~§
Thsys-glahaaessthsww
Rs—bhrdshsassmusahsdfi
Who-than
THE ONE WHO WON.
Two there were upon a quest:
One went east. and one went west;
One was rich. and one was poor.
One the highroad. one the moon
One of them (no matter which.
Maybe poor. or maybe rich.
One with wealth. or one with not.
Road or moor, no matter what).
One of them. who trudged along.
As he traveled, sang a song.
Played with snow, and laughed of
rain.
Smiled to see the sun again.
One of them found many things
All along to give him wings.
Morning-glory. whippoorwiil.
Often helped him up the hill.
One of them. I'm sad to say.
Traveled quite another way,
Cursed the rocks. and cursed the
road.
Ev'n- labor. ev'ry load.
One of them (no matter whom,
Man of gladness. man of gloom.
Man of wealth. or man of naught)
Found at last the thing he sought.
One of them (no matter which.
On the highroad, in the ditch)
Found the thing he sought. although
Which it was 1 do not know.
One of them. I know at least.
Found work fun. and life a feast
If he won, or if he lost.
Found the Journey worth the cost.
Two there were. W'hichever camq
“‘ealth or want. or failure. fame.
Good or had. or right or wrong.
One at least had had the song! '
A WOMAN IN THE HOUSE-
A woman in the house. to me.
In like the sunlight on the sea.
Is like the rose: by the road.
Is like the laughter with the load.
As stars make beautiful the night.
And flowers. gardens give delight.
Yes. all that beauty does for you
A woman in the house will do.
A woman in the house will make
An altar there for hearts that ache.
Will build a shrine amid life's sin
To worship God. and ask Him in.
For you who wander. you who weep.
A woman in the house will keep
A candle burning evermore—
She is a lighthouse on the shore.
A woman in the house is like
The sun's declining rays that strike
Your windows when the day is old
And turn your window-panes to
gold.
A man may build a house of hi‘
A woman in the house it is.
Through icy and sorrow. dawn and
gleam,
That takes his house and makes it
home.
To;fiay:5l§:g;d
Luci}
use:
3%!
m
sir‘.uttgsso'*ssaasnaft
W
. V“
THE DAILY mm.
S Id ORT'STORY
‘ The Judge and His Task
By MYRA CURTIS LANE.
omnmumumxmnm
‘ T's a great honor your being
appointed a judge." said Henry
Widdimsr‘a wits as they eat
the first soul-g h their new home
at Tryout. ”And I think has going
to lib this town. Hoary.” She
snugghl up to him. "If only—”
He pushed her shoulder. He knew
what was in h. mind. the one thing
they nevu- ooke about though they
were always thinking of it.
If only they had a. child to carry
on the family honor!
It was years since that hope had
been abandoned.
“Didn't you tell me yet: once lived
in Tryon ?" asked the Judge's wife.
“Yes. years ago I spent six months
here with a lumber company, when
I was a young man." answered the
Judge. “It was up in the moun-
tains."
And his mind went back to thosg
bitter-sweet days that he had long
since dismissed from it. He had
been in love with a mountain girl.
Margaret Eames. and for weeks he
had hesitated between making her
his wife and—riding away.
Honor and decency had demanded
the former course. But then—how
could he have brought Margaret into
the refined circle of his home? It
would have ruined his future. And
so—well. he had ridden away. He
did not like to think of that episode.
which he had shut down in the
cssket of the past.
Nevertheless, when he sat in court
he would look at the facesof the
mountaineers whenever any were
brought in as prisoners or witnesses.
and wonder whether he had ever
met any of them in the past. and
whether they would remember him.
He had made discreet inquiries
about Margaret. He had learned
that she had died about three years
after he left her. Nothing more was
known of her story. or else—but he
did not think of this until long after
——the;.' had been univilling to tell
him. He satisfied himself that she
was dead.
And he was not thinking of Mar-
garet that day when the prisoner
Eames was brought into court on
the charge of unlawful wounding.
He and another man had been
rivals for a mountain girL They
had drawn knives and Barnes had
got in the first blow. The other
man had lain at death's door for a
long time. but was now recovering.
Still. the judge wondered whether
the man were a kinsman of Mar-
garet's. In some way. probably. he
decided. All these mountaineers
were connected with one another.
He tried not to think of Margaret
as he um ed to the evidence. The
5', retired. brought in the obvious
var-dist Defers ng sentence
the Judge asked Blames what he had
to say.
To everyons's surprise Eames
burst into law invective.
"What have I to at?" he cried.
"Why.it’sdashrysugrsndfolks
to sit in im: on the lines of
us! What I done I do. hon-t and
open. I didn‘t crawl into the girl's
house like a trims! and wrong her.
I fought Jim Sykes for her. man to
man. That's what I got to say.
"Send me to the pen. Send me up
for life. but I tell you my quarrel's
with Jim Sykes. and my love's for
Molly Breen. and her love's for me.
And she’ll wait for me. however
long yOu send me up for. We ain't
like yen fine people. who love and
ride away. When we love. it lasts.
That's all." '
And with his last words he flung
back his head and confronted the
judge unfilnchingiy.
~If there were those in court who
saw the resemblance between the
two it probably did not occur to
them to make deductions from it:
and if any of the old mountain peo-
ple noticed it they said nothing.
"Homes. who were your people?”
asked the judge.
“My mother was a good woman—-
God rest her! My father was a
rogue who deceived her. That's all
I got to say. One of these fine.
eddicated. soft-spoken rogues—oh.
it's easy enough for them to take
advantage of a girl who trusts
thEm."
The judge passed a sentence of
six months' imprisonment. Many
thought mat was severe under the
circumstances.
But the bitterness lay in this—
that inI no way could he make atone-
ment either to the dead girl or to
the boy. Take him out of his en-
vironment. educate him—and thus
wrong the girl he loved and had
fought for? No. it was impossible.
. And never could he grip this sort
that he had longed for by the hand.
land transmit to him the honor of
the old family of which he was the
last to rise to power.
W'hether or not the boy had
known who he was. he had kept to
his own counsel. Nobody would be—
tray him. There was hardly a
greater height of irony possible,
For. day by day. he would sit in
judgment under the grim. silent
scrutiny of the mountaineers.
‘ DING the bell, .
'L 1 Knoclt‘at the door.
Why.‘clon’t theyfan'swer me?
l‘diift‘ theiatchnnd'walk right’in.
But it's locked .h
,I And fve'no kevz“.
Flid’three other persons: U
do: down. on‘thedoor; apps: sfdrwdown, in vines.
nghtcornerdowmenthedoovmppgl!
r
ThCWhy of
I, H. mvmo Kine.
wmuuoav Iron IARRVING.
IiA'l'sireiheluQaad un-
lucgydsystobemarrisdon
So
We Chew Reaction Against Tee
' Much and Too Many Colors By
Choosing Frocks of Black and
White.
T seemed as if the scarlet tans.-
gers and cardinal birds, rm 3"».
Say. and gold-wing-d m use
denim. the peacock. no passes
wereguingtobeleadersoffsshh‘
thissummer. Itseemsdaszfths
only thing a bird snthout m-
colorsd plumage could do was sills-
ply to give up hope of being in the
mode—and the only thing you or I!
could do was to buy and wear
bright-colored clothes whether we
found them becoming or not.
And now, by way of a reaction
against so much bright color. the
magpie has come back into fashion.
You may not have realized that
this tendency toward the black and
white combination was coming until
you chanced to look into the display
window of some mart shop to see
every: frock and wrap and hat and
accessory there displayed black or
white or black and white. This dis-
play of the magpie combination that
has been made by several of the
mart sheps is not merely the result
of a whim or the desire to be differ-
ent. It is the result of a very defl-
nibe and quite recent vogue for black
and white that has come as a reac-
tion against too much color.
We have had colors early and late.
We have danced and dined in gay
color. Our sport clothes have been
Block aeorgette frock trimmed with
large diamond-shaped motifs of
lace.
the match of Joseph's coat. our
mucus- have been like the ruin-
bow. We hrs warn guy has for
tmudmeotmhavemahoe‘
and onrried handbags c: brunt red.
ll. a- greon. The thing has been
m on our nerves. We aren’t
(data man enough to be able to
shad. :L And so we've been getting
our-aty- into a proper frame of
mind her back and white.
A m recently shown by one of
the m Amt-nan damakers
was of black georgme with a twist-
'ed girdle of black and white. An-
omer black frock comes into the
magpie category by means of a
white lat: coils: and Jabot.
The sketch shows a black geop-
getoe frock with the usual plaited
skirt and straight smooth bodies.
The note of attraction is in the dia-
mond-shape motifs of white lace. ap«
plied to the skirt and the bodice.
There are even“; aim of the
black and white comblrasnon that
use worn with the all-white frock.
or even with the colored frock. and.
of course. the handkerchief of the
moment for th; evening is made of
sincerest white linen with trh'nrning
of black lace.
; = THE
HOUSEHOLD
Edited by All! IITTENHOUSB
DRESSING UP YOUR BED.
orateiy dressed than they are in
these days When we reodze‘ tho
importance of getting as much air
as possible while we sleep. Bed cur-
tains and drapery though pictur-
esque are certainly not welcome. It
may have been essential to comfort
in winter when houses were
draughty and bedrooms unheated.
However, there are ways of glori-
fying the bedstead without using
draperies that keep out air. A backp
ing curtain adth distincuon to any
bedroom. and may be put up without
much difficulty. The bed m a
high. solid book does not lend itself
to this treatment so well as the bed
with a low back or the four-poster
bed.
The backing curtain should be
placed over the wall directly behind
the bed. and should be hung from a
line with that of window curtains or
door portieres. The curtain should
be slightly gathered or laid in plaits
and securely fastened to the wall.
One good way is to run an elastic
through the heading, leaving ends of
the elastic at each end, which can
be fastened to the wall with brass-
headed nails. Drawing pins or
thumb—tacks pushed into the wall
through the fullness of the curtain
along the length of the top will be
sufficient to keep it in place.
A good plan is to have this back-
ing curtain match the spread used
on- the bed. A coarse linen—in nat-
ural linen color——ls a good selection.
and this should be decorated with
bands or panels of figured cretonnc.
The contrasting band should ho
placed along the top of the curtain
just beneath the gathers. The back-
ing curtain should always be of
washable material. so that it can be
sent to the Wash. at least every gig
weeks.
BEDS used to be much more elab-
#-
fl
jaa.
many good souls of both
sexes, who with more or less
solicitude have been consid-
ering the ill-nature of old Mother
Earth. have reached the concluo
sion that her offspring are sadly
in need of a spiritual elixir.
Looking at our case of irritabil-
ity seriously. it is found that we
have forgotten our good manners
and the pleasant art of promoting
good-will.
In the struggle for existence.
and especially as we get older and
knots cranky, weseem to move
about In our professions and avo-
cations in a state of mind that
borders on enmity towards all
mankind. We may. be able to
number an infinite sf acquain-
tances, but not find one among
upon whom we can look as
av end.
We seem to be in an ugly mood.
ready at the drop of a thoughtless
word to open battle and fly at one
another with clinched fists.
Our tempers are on edge in our
homes. on the streets and in our
oilces. We are churlish. selfish
Something. to Think About
Promoting Good-Will
W
and selfishness.
It is observed. too. that in our
lucid moments. after we have had
a sniff of pure air, we dare I
smile and venture forth into dis-
courses touching pleaaantiy upon
the value of amity and the worth-
lessnesa of discord. ‘
The next day. perhaps we are
at a Donnybrook Fair. playing in
the old game! And now. all of
a sudden. what are we going to
do about it? Let us via! the
noble part and foster goodowill.
MWWWTHEW"
I. _
Page for Women. Children and the Horn
Through the
Glad Eyes of
a Woman
Norwalk Chronicler