’7 / i ii" youns My sue-s ch. '0 m ll uni the heat that In“. R . M ii. ihe cup-duty in the M It Life Lyrics THE WAY YOU AR‘ - you live, not the we: I ‘ ' -‘ '- ij.’ )‘Ou r‘Ch. but (’1. ~ ~ w»; walk. rid will Judge. whatever Mill, “chi wiH praise. or the .1 at .21 blame. . i".l".\ - ~~ are: you do. not the way you ~ .. i; mu spend. but the way 1 .. the least. or will like the i' 1. ~ "u v ork, not the way l"' w 30.; sing. not the way u ; nu whine. but the way 2‘ it you down. or will ‘ . far— 3 . « ~ ~ on seem. but the way . \ V'VL‘ THiNK YOU'LL QUIT. -u_.'ll quit. Youodo not "13. speak to people . ""i’ilhf‘i‘ job to strike . r «me is always fair. ~ " .. hours are rather short. , or too. is rather light: \' ‘ r- Hi like another sort. - " "7.1"! just exactly right. r ‘oh "on had before ' m had, not near as bad ' "ca-med. “‘hat mode you the business that the? 'm more than others ":1 made you work at w lrtt the place for good I: for one exactly right. .. another move in mind: ' "" .‘J‘n )Ou want to gut. '5 Iiuito another kind - Mu have had as yet. ' m V'Ty much to do. - «2 short hours. and lots .:.. i-n they're always nice to ' v that's just exactly Pith!- my hey. my girl. my a!“ ‘vh to Job we often go. “~m find. and seldom can. ‘0 l'nrndises here below. 4 Wm often something wrong. ~~ with ev'ry Job in sight: . i-c‘il have to get along rnc that's not exactly fishi- ' 'l‘e house has troubles. M .- mt has worries. too. 3° s, ilwrc‘s something wrest ' "’l \Oi] .3” "l“ W!» never thought about. ' :"‘ "M entirely perioct. n0. _ " "'z-‘nmers perhaps polite: “‘ '0’.“ u! on the payroll. thossh. "”‘o loll we're not easetls "0‘- SHORTSTORY THE LEGACY, LEFT ’ BY UNCLE JOHN Iy ANTHONY REIMIRT. ' ROLE JOHN had been ill for seven months before he died. and had been attended by a horde of relations. Uncle John had lived forty years in the little cottage at tho and of the road. In his old Ago he had grown crabbed and crafty and mean: he had dismissed :l: genhouseltoeper and attended to won I until striclt mortal illness. on by his Then his relatives swooped down —for everybody knew the old man was wealthy. There were Brother James and Brother Thomas. Sister Angelica. Cousin Betsy. Cousin Matilda. and an uncounted host of nephews and nieces, vying with one another. One brought him broth. one brought him flowers. one looked after him on Tuesdays and Satur- days. and another on Wednesdays and Sundays. Sister Angelica. with whom he had been estranged for years. came in every evening and there was an affecting scene be- tween them. Who was his favorite? Niece Mary. the local stenographer. who was nearly forty. but happy in her inevitable spinsterho‘ seemed to hold the old man's heart more than any of the others. They told Uncle John shocking stories about her. but Uncle John seemed too far gone to take these tales at their proper valuation. They were as sweet as honey to the old man. and pressed their rival claims upon him. Cousin Matilda was a widow. with flve children to bring up. But Brother James thought that. as head of the family, he should inherit the bulk of Uncle John's property. Uncle John had certainly never had such a time in his life as in those last months. He lived upon jelly and chicken. and his room was like it hothouee. Uncle John inci- dentally detested flowers. Niece Mary was the only one who didn‘t give him expensive presents. but then she only got fifteen a week. and it is hard to be generous on that amount of money. One night Uncle John quietly fell asleep in death when nobody was near him. Perhaps it was just as well. They come in and found the old man lyinc llnck upon his pillows, a placid smile upon his face. “it's a mercy. after all he’d suf- fered. poor man!" was Cousin Matilda's verdict. ““‘ell. he lived a long life if not a merry one." soiiioquised Brother James. And two problems perturbed them OWingly: How much had Uncle John left. and who was going to set the bulk of it? , "I should say.” said Brother Thonms. pursing his lips. ”that my brother was worth about forty thou- sand." "Forty thousand?“ cried Brother James. "How for will that go among us all? Of course. I ain't suggest- ing that John has left more'n a, trifling remembrance to most of 'em." he added. The will was read the mornins after the old man's death. by the gray-haired lawyer, in the shabby little living-room. "To my brother, James. in ac- knowledgment of his headship of the family, flfty dollars." The terrible silence was cut by a snickerlng laugh from Cousin Matilda. "To my brother. Thomas, in sc- knowledgment of his kindness to a crabbed old man—" "Ah!" There was a universal sigh. 80 Thomas had got it. had he?” "Twenty-flvo dollars.” This time everybody except the brothers burst out laughing. “To my sister. Angelica. my house and its contents." "Worth five hundred at the out- side!" miffed Sister Angelica con- temptuously. "The mean old—-—" "Hush! Hush!" cried the indig- nant voices. ”To my cousins. Betsy and Matilda. and each of my nephews and nieces. except my niece. Mary. ten dollars apiece." lndignnnt. dagger-glances at Mary, who sat alone in one corner of the room. "To my niece. Mary. the remain- der of my personal estate, to: ethcr with my recipe for happiness. How much? How much? There were agonizing looks at Mary. They forgot to shake hands with her when they filed out. it was a little over two hundred dollars. the lawyer informed Mary a little inter. He handed hcr a letter from her uncle. the envelope inscribed “Recipe for Happiness." .‘iarv opened it: "My dear, i wish i could do more ,fnr yaw hit you foilon‘ this advice fund it'll iwe no good :is money to you 'm; long as run live The next heat ithing to having money is purtend- i “1'... _ Last Night‘s Dreams And What They Mean LIVER. MONO the foods of Dreamland A liver has a high rank. accord- ing to the great majority of‘ the mystic interpreters; though there are many of the oracles who are inclined to qualify the general significance for good which resides in such a. dream. fouling); the tics as that it s a .- leint 0min to dream of cooking, or of eating. liver, but that to dream of merely seeing it is not so good. There are others of the mystic fraternity-«and quite a number of them too—who say that if the piece of liver seen in one's dreams ap- to be decayed :r dried i‘swto‘t: men that the reamer :u‘c'h :iven to high living and dissi- pation and is in danger of losing his wealth. Or if he has not wealth then or losing his income or posi- A POINT IN tion. But if the liver is fresh look- ing. then the union is for an increase in financial prosperity. domebtia ihnppiness and all round good for- tune. It must be rather a. horrible Idream of the nightmare variety to ldrenm of seeing the liver of one's jencmy, yet all the oracles mention 'such a dream and say thatQit signi- .fles triumph over foes and an en- 'riching of the dreamer at the ex- ’penae of his enemies. To see the liver of any horned animal—espe- cially to dream of cooking or eating it—is accounted most excellent luck. as it signifies an approaching in- heritance. good empioyme and a. rise in dignity and importance. Pig's liver will do. but is not quite so favorable an omen as the liver of a horned animal. ETIQUETTE ‘ MAKING FRIENDS. ild up a friendly feeling Ono's: any one for whom such a feeling has never exisgd gr the only way p - maT-MJ“: gradual method. '1‘: attempt anything so dramatic an sudden reconciliation uld 3m motive at say about it gradually. at In time. you knovV. the worst will begin to fetlet what it progress—not with the end of being bosom friends—for perhaps after all there is an innate lack of congenial- ity between Your families that brought about the original falling out—but so that you can be friendly neighbors. After all. in the entire community there are only two or three persons suited by tempera- ment to be your closest friends. and thebestamug‘omentistomakeof all the rest acquaintances .who bear no grudge or spite toward you. "NEVER PAYS— "ro “cut" any one who has been a friend or acquaintance simply be- cause of a misunderstanding or paid for a now automobile. an antiouoddeboardablockofstock. amtocbafurcoator other nmwantto brows always pucker at the thought of fashions to come. It was bad enough yesterday hav- ing to take on the fashions of to- day. but,“ may be worse getting used to tomorrow's. That seems to be their apprehension. So this question: "What-of the styles to come?" is not often asked with Joyous anticipation. though there are some women still who look upon all new fashions as an absorbing adventure. The more change in the cut of a. sleeve gives a. variety to existence. Life for them can never jog along quite monotonously so long as there are ever changing kinds of fashions to essay. To the moot question the first answer seems to he that skirts are to be shorter—they are getting shorter before a number of very presentable women in this country had taken up with the lengthened skirt. it took us conservative Americans so long to adopt the very short skirt that by the time we had made it our own we were not quite in the mood for the longer one. “'9 were afraid we wouldn't be quite decent wifi a short skirt and then we were afraid we would be dowdy with a. long one. And now the makers of clothes in Paris have cried right ' s THERE are some women whose ’li '- OI-o fl" i“ \ r5" l" Suit of block. satin with circular about face. leaving a good many wome who take only an inaccu- rate i t in fashion not quite sure whether betas are coins “D or going down. At least there is this comfort—— it is easier to shorten the tomb of your frocks on hand than to lengthen them. A smooth unbeltod line at tho front—which might be spoken of as Moyen Age——is a new mode sure to gain gorund. The sil- houotte that the French call “mince". for which our “slender" never seems quite adequate. is is no danger of losing prestige. ‘ In fact a closer draping of fabric about the waist and hips will give smelled of even greater slender- ness and though the circular note will 'be used on skirts and flounces it will not be done in a manner to add width to the line of the figure. The suit in the sketch is to the point. it is made of black satin. and the "Jacket is draped into long- waisted lines that are emphasized by the circular flounces about the hips and the elbows. The Housewiie’s Economy Calendar. A NATION IN WHITE. propensity of us Americans for wearing white. Of course. they like it. but they wonder how we can aflord the money or the time that is needed to make it possible. Just think of the number of people you see in a day who are clad in While——Whlte that is pretty gener- ally spotless white. You go to the dentist‘a'and if your dentist is one of the progres- sive sort he “operates" in a. white surgeon's smock that covers him tram his neck to his ankles. At any rate. he wears a. white washable coat. and it may be that he has as an assistant a. young woman dressed in a nurse‘s white uniform. _ Having served your sentence at the dentist's you go to your favorite dairy store to buy butter. and there you are waited on by a young woman whose suit frock is entirely cnvcrcd by a fresh white apron frock. and your butcher wears a white apron and coat—not always immaculately white by the time you ,got there. but doubtless fresh every morning. i Our American ides seems to be that work clothes should be white: a not unusual European notion is that they should be dark. so as not to show the dirt in France they put black smacks on their school children and their "cache-touts" or avcrnlls or creepers are usually of in :k or some other dark color. To .«e nurc we have within the past few scars borrowed the idea of block may clothes for children from France. but it was as a matter of fashion. not of expedience. And. fortunately enough. that fashion is on the wane. Our little babies we always dress in white. and the nurse who takes care of baby now has a. white frock as a matter of course. More and more other household em- ployee are wearing white, The most startling instance of the adoption of white undoubtedly was when a certain street cleaning com- missione provided white suits for street cleaners. Rash as this seemed EUROPEANS are amazed at the flaring jacket. There is a beige at the time to many. it has proved collar, crossed and tied at the such a wise provision that the city wist. cleaner is known by his white suit. 5 - i ——. ‘ITTLE . -Looks cssedup in her mother's bestciothcs. ‘ If. .i. doesn’tfikawc * ‘ #- Miss Lilly awfully .11, .r:. ~ because being a fond and ambi- i HE new momma who has just said a rather quiver! and ap- prehensive farewell to the trained nurse and goes downstairs this to life and work.-to put to rights an unkempt home which has so sadly missed its mistress while she was laid aside, and to begin the perilous. difficult adven- ture of brand-new motherhood.. with no one but kind neighbors or near relations to guide her. will find nothing much to help her in a book on the child I have Just been reading. This is for the fortunate (we shall see about» that) mother who has a couple of nurses at her beck and call. day and night nurseries. a butler. housemaids. cooks, and many mansions to smooth what you might call the milky way of chiluhood for her. I And the astonishing thing about it is that such well-placed mothers should have any problems at all. It seems, however, that they have. \Veli. it's a great blow to me. tious, if plebeian and needy mamma. I have always cherished the comfortable notion that my own ewe lamb could easily have turned out to be a miracle of love- liness. a sort of female Lord Chesterfield in miniature. a charm- ing. well-bred. accomplished young woman had I the cash to afford highly trained governesses, nurses, and servants to look after her. and proper places to put 'em 11.1. As it is I am still banking on the polishing possibilities of some flue girls' finishing school to sup- ply the culture and the exquisite manner which have not yet shown signs of sprouting with any super- abundance. But alas! manners and fine ways and good table habits are not indigenous to childhood's soil. not even when it is blue—blooded; and’there are such things as head; nurses. built-rs. and an army of! mania to sweeten life. 6 And the well-tn-do parent has’ many problems to face. There is the painful possibility! r fldre Glad Eyes of a Woman a, use nos ~0— emu. n”. by (selectors Newspaper m —o— OTHER WOMEN’S D that a faithful nurse may tem- porarily oust the mother from the place in the child's heart. And a woman who would be best for its curls may be worst} for its character. i And the search for a person who i "will be responsible for their growth. their nervous system. their manners. their religion. it is hers to instil the prejudice. fears. loves. faiths which count. for so much. to determine their, diet, physical. mental and spir- itual—in short. largely to sow such a harvest as they will be reaping for the whole of their lives. How dlflcult to find every- thing you want in one person!" Yes. I expect it is. But I must say I took much comfort from at least one passage in all these super-difficulties: , "One form of fatuity to be ' avoided is that of trying to ex- plain awsy your child's tem- porary eclipse of beauty. charm and intelligence. Children are as variable as the weather. and. their faculty for letting you. down on special occasions is in. expressibly annoying." How true that is! . What fond mother. after having bored a friend to tears with a glowing recital of her child's really astonishing intelligence. forwardness and prettiness. has not endured the humiliating pain of exhibiting said child-wonder and having it behave o a little stuck-dummy. betrayin he erudi- tion of a village idiot. with all its physical attractiveness somehow vanished away. leaving instead an awkward. plain little child. nice and all thht. of course. but cer- tainly nothing to get excited about. And yet to know full well that in private life it can reveal pic- tures of adorable loveliness and quaint virtue. The beauty of children ebbs and flows as that of a beautiful woman. And they bloom best in the still hours when nothing particular is expected of them. i _ t- . By EA. HOSE attractive communities I nestled here and there in quaint rustic places, where the bees are humming. the wild grasses are waving in the passing breezes, and thfi tinkling of bells is heard in purple pastures. tell a beautiful ‘ of peace and content. Often far away from the clamor~ ous haunts of mortals where gold is god. driving. lashing. heaping bur- dens of care upon gailed shoulders. stealing from life its sweetest de- lights. these little hamlets. when one comes unexpectedly upon them. seem to reflect the quietude that we imagine exists among the courts of Heaven. A few scattering cots where everybody is neighborly. where amity seeks not a League of Nations nor a Court of Public Opinion. tell a story of criendliness and sodality of which the nations throughom the world seem quite unfamiliar. Being neighborly is the simple secret of universal happiness. the panacea. or world ills. ruptures and revolts. Although the happy man feels very kindly toward others, others must reciprocate the feeling to get happiness all around. and this all around happiness is available to Something to Think About Being Neighborly WALKER Who does not catch something of the thrill of delight experienced by two lovers in the lane, loitering hand and hand? To them buttercups are as sweet as roses. the sky is always blue. the sun is perpetually shining and the birds are singing for no one else. And so it is with the folk in the humble cots. contented with their station in life. pouring praises each day from their hearts which seldom flnd utterance in words. but stir their souls to sublime emotiona “’e may be highly meritorious. we may have the power of a king. the learning of a. Mecaenss. the wealth ‘ of the Indies. but if we are not neighborly we cannot be happy, at peace with others. or escape wrangies. wars of words and mur- derous arms. If neighborlinees does not come‘ out in our behavior toward one an-‘v. other. there is within the soul all unfriendly sentiment. in spits of our affected smiles and assumed good manners. When once the hill: places of the world decide to be neighborly and put their decision into actual prac- tice there wili'be no more “rum- bling of caissons and guns.” no more killing of brothers and wanton waste of priceless trees“ ho everybody. poverishlng peoples for ages. r Jewel. color fig , Lucky ~ ~e. livtwit-wweit - ~~= .N’ uoousvous; HE moonstone is the talismanic ltatthtotimocotfldbesuroofat- tractiutbooppoodtesexalthough btholovoom'swhichmightfollow r. ;.8.‘..i..-va:. ’ * .u" .9. 1. .mfitmu
Norwalk Chronicler