Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, August 8, 1916, Page 6

Heao - Tested Recipes « A Pond Lily Table * “Place in the center of the table a round pan of water; conceal edges witK ferns; place upon the ‘water a few blossoms. Green satin ons one inch in width are ar- pged to form a sunburst. Lilies or are at the end of each ribbon, " Lemon ice, garnished with mint, is ‘erved in slender-stemmed glasses. Recirel rc%uesled by readers are h&u below. The first one is for po- loaves. To make them you will fieed one pound mashed potato, tw (Bgs, onc ounce dripping, salt and oepper. Melt the clarified dripping nd mix it with the rotnoes, add one E beaten and a little pepper and ; form the mixture into little cot- ? loaves, brush over with beaten (i8R, place on a baking tin and bake a {olden brown. by 'y Chicken Salad. . Cut cold boiled chicken into small ce. With two cupfuls of this meat mix a cup of celery cut into dice. rinkle all with salt and pepper. Into e uble?oonfnll of oil stir a table- ful of vinegar. Pour this over chicken and ulerfi and toss until ivell mixed. Line a chilled bow! with lettuce leav: Il with chicken A l:nd pour mayonnaise dressing al French Dressing. Put one_saltspoonful of salt and half saltspooniful of white pepper a bowl and stir in three tablespoon- of olive oil, then add one-fourth of onion juice and one spoonful of vinegar. Mix well. That brims, having come with late summer hats, intend to remain for the winter is indicated in the tailored hat here shown. The brim is gold velours, the crown blue hatter’s plush, THE 'BEE: OMAHA, TUESDAY, AUGUST 8, 1918. The mid-season hat of changeable blue and silver taffeta spreads itself out as far as it can to catch the last rays of the summer sun. Over the symmer dress is” worn a smart au- A purple ve- lours sailor, Purple and yel- low worsted, like that on the white and pur- .Copied from a French turban is this hat with rakish side-shortened \ brim and /crown. The top of the crown and the underbrim are blue velvet, the rest, plaited blue taffeta. s The velvet stole rivals fur. is brown Higher up in the world than most of its kind is the brown velvet Tam- o’-Shanter crown of the new autumn hat. The sweeping turned-up brim OTELS AND RESORTS. z *— | Phe Small-Town T L o O L Woman the trimmings fringe. By ADA PATTERSON. in me,” ‘she said. come from a larger er in a small town in 1¢ ; flullh-.hlhul“ - The Hotel { Success of N - Chicago { comfortable, ; ike hotel the business cen- ter of the city offer- 8 Bri MAPLEW Restaurant at prices. 480 Rooms $1.50 up ‘With Bath $2.00 up TS MILWAUKEf ‘Omaha “I was afraid you were disappointed “Because f d idn’ lace.” ) By this wistful little speech the woman who uttered it betrayed the small town sensitiveness, The dwell- es to apolo- gize to the citizen of a large one, man from Detroit told me that he ways dreaded tryinfi to break into a |t New York offic e boys had -such a superior air that he was sure the lord of the office was a mighty 'individual indeed. The man was one of parts in his own commu- nity. He was a figure of influence in that well-ordered city on the lake. I rallied him about his identity. But he could not be infused with courage. Small town timidity held him in its HOTELS AND RESORTS. WHITE MTS, N. H. MAPLEWOOD Horfia , N, H. High Altitude. len-lhylnw.; MAPLEWOOD INN Opposite Hotel. Capacity 148 Torms Moderate. Superior 18-Hole Golf Course 6060 yards. The best food is Motorists' Best Radiating Conter in Mts. served in the Bosking Office, 1180 Broadway, New York, New Kaiserhof Mo Maplewood N. H. A it ukee & St. A |cere d the office tumn stole of ermine, she had made a bad impression, by reason of her home address, is do- ing a beautiful work in a big, fine way. She has no need to apologize to any- one, not to St. Peter who jingles the t | golden keys at the gates of pearl. But small town ' sensitiveness fias given that curious twist to her vision, The small town woman enjoys ad- vantages that her sister in the big, notar maelstroms of civilization sin- ly envies her, She has time to She has time to think. She has to know. William Dean Howells said, “I do not write my books for people who live in large cities. They do not read. I write for people who live in small towns,” I could dictate a list of rea le jersey scarf, Klnda the crown. By BEATRICE FAIRFAX., Men pride themselves on being “good sports.” But I think that in their dealings with women they for- get what being a “good sport” really means! Nothing is “sporting” in the best sense unless, it is based on principles of honesty and fair play. A man who lays any claim to being a gentleman brings the spirit of fair play as a mat- ter of course into his clubs, his ath- fetics, his business life and his amuse- ments of every sort, except those in which women are concerned. = The average man in his relation- ships with women wants amusement worried denizens of the largest city in the world whose dearest ambition is “to get a little place somewhere, away from this rush, where I can read all the books that I have been wanting to read for years.” These hurried folk, look enviously at the commutor, weighed down by heavy bundles, They know that that man is going to some place of peace, some little haven from din, where he, an stretch his feet upon fender or piazza l"lll,. according to season, smoke his pipe and read the evening paper without twenty-five persistent interruptions. That is what the small town means to him—the place of un- interruption.' The commutor, with the humility of his small townness, jokes shame-facedly about his armful of Elrce[s. To the man who stays be- ind in the big city the bundles are the badge of a desirable state. The little woman who deplored, at least for the moment, the fact that she was a small town dweller not only has time to read, but to know what her city cousins do not know. “I dread going back home,” said a New York woman to me. “The home folks are so well informed. ' They know the height of all tall buildings in New York and who lives on Fiith avenue and where, A visit back home alwavs makes me feel that I am an ig- norant person.” names a column long of busy, hurried, | 2 entertainment. If he can get it for the asking he takes it. But he values what he gets for nothing at nil. My girls write me that the men they know lose interest in them when denied kisses and caresses. All around me in social life I see the same thing ~—men demanding the privilege of “making love” to women whom they do not even pretend to love in any fine sense, And ever since the days of the old song, “He loved and rode away,” that is just what the men have been doing. They make love lightly when permit- ted, and tire easily. Worse still, they “kiss and tell.” And this is reprehensible enough, unkind and even dishonorable. But what makes it even less “sporting” is the fact that whenever men are expressing their honest opinion to each other or to an older woman for whose favors they are not striving, they acknowlcdfe that they are look- ing for an ideal girl who won't per- mit herself to 'be kissed and caressed by all and sundry. Oh, yes, men confess it. Their “dream girl"—the girl they mean to love and marry is a girl who holds herself too high to permit any light and facile lovemaking. As for the rest they say, “Oh, I'm just amusing myself. She ought to know that.” he ought to—but she doesn’t! Too many girls fancy that the way to hold a man is by letting him have what he wants, Girl after girl has confessed to me sadly when it was too late: “Oh, I was afraid to say no. There was Molly Green waiting., And if I didn’t -give in to him, I was afraid he'd go after her.” Too late the girl learned that after she had given in to him, the man gets tired of what was his for the asking and goes off for new worlds to con- quer. The spirit of the chase makes men like hunting, but is it “goqd hunting” to blind the quarry first and then to hunt it down? 9! Where is the masculine instinct of fair play? How can any self-respect- ing man reconcile the statements he makes to the girl he wants to win, without the responsibility of marry- ing and supporting her, with the statement he makes to outsiders for whom he has enough respect to cause him to_tell them the truth? To Susie, John says, “Oh, I've got to kiss you. You know I'm fond of vou. Don't torture me by refusing. You couldn’t be so selfish and un- kind." And Susie, either because she is a loving, self-sacrificing little thing, or because she is emotional and easily moved, lets John kiss her. Then John tells his men friends or some older woman for whose men- tality he has plenty of respect that he's going to marry a girl who is dignified and who holds herself above idle lovemaking—the sort of girl, in fact, who is fit to be a good man's wife. And he feels very noble and righteous as he says it. Is that honorable sport? 1Is' that “fair play?” I leave it to you, boys— d your own_consciences. Ith Hints -:- Fashions -- Woman’s Work -- Household Topics velours, the trimming black and brown variegated quills, Thorough or Nothing . BY FORTUNE FREE. “A great number of people must be thorough or nothing,” said Moody. The weords sound quite nice, don't they, as if a big compliment were coming? But he went on. And most of these people are nothing. There is nothing that sounds bet- ter than the person who declares he must do a thing thoroughly or leave it alone. We feel that we ought to know where we are with him. The worst of it is, however, that he so often prefers to leave the job alone. He might have done! something—something_small, perhaps, but still something. But no! If he cannéd¢ do the thing thoroughly he's not gomg to put a finger to it. The finger sticks, Some time since I lived in a road where the house had a little bit of a garden in front of them. It was quite a prim little road. We were not millionaires, equal to calling in the best horticultural skill or buying the most extensive displays in floriculture, Still we kept up to a certain respect- able level. There was one “house, however, that was scandalous. It was the fly in the pot of ointment. The bit of front garden was simply a disgrace to the whole of us—more than that, it was a regular hotbed of weed viciousness. The weeds in that garden infected all around, and people in the soad studied the direction of the wind anxiously. If it was in the east, it blew dandelion and thistle seed to the people up the road; if it was in the west the “down” people got them. We used to expostulate with the owner of the crop. He was a most fervent admirer of gardens, he assured us, (He loved them. Providence, he pointed out, placed Adam in the garden. Nothing would lease him more than to “go in” or gardening, he ‘declared, but he hadn’t time and being a thorough person, if he could not do gatdening as it ought to be done, he wasn't going to touch it You meet these thorough people very often. Terry, the actor, knew of them—a lady who was “thorugh” on the subject of dress. Her hus- band’'s fortune—or want of fortune, rather—forbade her dressing in the style in which she would have re- velled. But there was no one like .her for knowing how a person ought to dress, and she could tell you ex*- actly how all the other women for a mile around showed their utter ignorance of it. Their taste was schocking. She would not wear a dress to look anything like any one of them for the world. Not- being able to study appearance, however, owing to her husband's restricted ‘means, she resolved to dismiss the 31}:])]'Cct entirely from her mind. She 1d. “I believe in studying appearances Mr. Terry,” she explained to him, “if you only have the time and money to do it. But if you haven’t what’s the good? I say leave them alone. “There’s Mrs. Jones up the road. She gety a new hat—poor thing!— and she’s delighted. But a new hat or a new pair of boots only shows up what isn't new upon you. And what’s the good of a thing if it isn't the best? If I can't get the best, I say, have none at all. What did you say? You think I've dropped a sixpence? Oh! It is only a button, isn’t it? Thank you so much. Would you mind putting it into the orna- ment on the mantelpiece? I've got all the others there, When I have a day to spare I mean to sew them all on together. Would you believe it? There were sixteeen of those mother-of-pearl buttons on this dress when I started—all for show—and (IOW there are—" Seven buttons and nine pins! We may yearn as much as we like for thoroughness—which means per- fection—but if we are to be happy and get along satisfactorily, we must take off our hat to much that falls short of it. One wishes, perhaps, to do somgthing thoroughly and then, tryin one’s hand at it. Well, it's disheartening, isn't it? The very ear- nestness of our desire to do a thing perfectly makes a little failure all the more disconcerting. . “The bigger the ideal you set be- fore you the more discouraging is the failure to approach it,” said Rus- kin, and Shuttleworth once remarked that there were numbers of people who would be really good Christians if only they were not discouraged at finding they could not be perfections. Bird’s Nest By CONSTANCE CLARKE. Rolls of hot bread are-indispens- able for the breakfast menu. With many the question is abruptly settled with the word “toast,” but for those who exclaim with “Heine,” “Oh, what lovely, beautiful eating there is in this world,” something else must be pre- rnred. This is an excellent hot bread, iahtt yet sufficiently * adequate to satisfy at the breakfast. ' To make: Take four cups of fine flour and rub into it until smooth half a cup of butter, three-quarters cup of sugar, half a teaspoonful of powdered cinnamon, thtee whole, well-beaten-up eggs and half a cup of water; add to it an ounce of yeast mixed with three-quarters of @ cup | of warm milk and a pinch of salt, and make into a light dough; cover it over with a cloth and set it aside | b till the next morning. Then roll out the dough on a board with a little flour into a sheet about a quarter of an inch thick; cut into strips half an inch wide, leaving a strip on the top edge to hold them together; twist these in and out to form a nest, leaving the strips separated, Put the nest in a frying basket and fry in deep boiling lard until a light brown, dust over with powdered sugar and serve with coffee for breakfast. Tomorrow—Fillets of Flounders with Green Peas. ¢ i How to Trea_t Varicose Veins By ROBERT WATSON. “Life,” said Emerson in an essay, “is a series of surprises. The simplest words—we do not know ‘what they mean, except when we love and aspire. . And what he said of life might be applied to our weekly batch of let- ters. It is a series of surprises. My measure of love and aspiration, also must be inadequate, or the simplest words in some of these epistles—I do not know what they mean. Here, for instance, 1s a letter. Ap- ropriately the writer signs it “Folle arine.” L “My muscles,” she says, “are behav- ing badly; can you give me a cure, lease? I have a varicose on the right, ut it seems the ankle and bobt-bones —1I can't sleep at nights—they are so sore and burn inwardly; no breaks of any kind or marks other than the varicose. I prefer troy weight to avordupois. Troy is lighter. Can I rub the ankles with anything? I have been walking eighteen miles weekly. I take 3 walk every night of three miles.” Now, what is one to make of that screedf A measure of significance may be apprehended, but only by allowing words an unwarranted range of meaning. The picture dimly holds a woman, debilitated and weary, fighting through days of housework, all the time conscious of weight and discomfort about her legs and feet. The veins feel full They show up as swelling cords, which meander erratically, look perilously overfull, and bulge painfully at odd spots when she tries to do much. And she is always doing too much. At the end of each day, when her whole spre system cries for rest and relaxa- tion, a sense of duty drives her out along the lane for three miles of physical culture—sheer agony—be- fore she goes to bed. And bed disap- points her. She is so tired that sleep will not come, and the strained ves- sels and overwrought muscles ache and burn, But her letter—its medley of mus- cles and bones and “the varicose;' the occult aside about weight—it simply “darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge.” I am inclined to dip beneath the surface of her writing, and seize the word she failed to write, and make it the key to her complaint and my answer. There is no such thing a “a varicose” any more than therc can be “a beautiful” or “a purple” or “an urgent,” for “varicose” is an adjective. You may have varicose ulcers, vari- cose eczema, varicose veine, even varicose formation upon shells. Her varicosity evidently disfigures a vein qr veins. If that reading be correct, and the muscular inability purely a result of defects in her circulation, the con- duct of “Folle Farine” needs reform and her idea of rubbing with some- thing is full of risk. Her day's work should be light- ened. The less she stumps about on her weary legs (over and above, the measure demanded by inevitable duties) the better for her distended veins. Always when she sits down she should if possible extend her legs upon a couch or high stool or chair. This cases the circulation, helps the return of blood from her extremities, diminishes the wearing, tearing ten- sion upon vein walls. Three miles, performed six nights out of seven, is gratuitous cruelty, mischievous med- dling. And to rub the irritable veins with anything or nothing is to invite disaster. Inflammation would almost certainly follow. It might already be present, and inflanimation in a vein means that a clot is to be expected inside the tube—a plug of congealed bloed, held by nothing but its own co- hesion from journeying off with the blood stream which soaks its edge— and that journey involves death, pa- ralysis, or a fearful fight for. life. . Therefore, there must be no rub- ing. The best “Folle Farine” can do is to live simply, quietly and pay par. ticular attention to the avoidance of constipation, which notably aggra- vates congested and varicose veins, To sponge her legs and feet, night and morning, with cold water would tone up the walls of these poor veins and improve her contlition. And she may also gain by wearing upon the right leg (or each leg) a crepe ban- dage or elastic web bandage from the foot to just below the knee—putting it on before she dressed in the morn- ing and taking it off at bedtime. \