The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 22, 1904, Page 15

to the of the & about. ut the portrait journals. By searching “Foreign Intel ut wk in we kn she is pe w talk to her, y I say I am erican husband. »and only iness an d then he could come over here r. Years ago, when I first began I argued to a must be a deadly How sad it Is, I thus, wh widows see E ope, make gouty old gentlemen feel they want to buy a hoop, but the sort of tonic for which it is claimed that if you poured three drops upon a ham sand- wich the next moment you would hear ft—the ham sandwich—grunt. s " Aiw Also, it struck me as pathetic, the thought of -these Amerlcan widows in their thousands, leaving their native land, coming over In shinloads, to spend the rest of their blighted lives in exile. The mere thought of Amer- fca, I took it, had fore become to them distasteful. The und that once his feet had pressed! * * * The old f: A once lighted by his smile Everything in America v d remind them of him. Snatching their babes to their heaving bosoms y would leave the country where a buried all the joy of their lives, seek In the retirement of Paris, Flor- ence or Vienna oblivion of the past. ar pla .. it struck me bBeautiful: the noble resignation with which they bore grief, hiding their scrrow from ndifferent stranger. Some widows make a fuss, go about for weeks 1 gloomy and depressed ightest effort to b m n- n the same f cheerful- ness they ma mmon or the morning with finishing up quite 1 with a little supper part) impromptu dance, and never detect their outward manner that they were not thoroughly enjoying them- From the mothers I turned m g eves toward th children. is the gecret of American success, I to myeelf, this high-spirited courage, this' Spartan contempt for suffering. Look at them, the gallant little men and women! Who would k that they had lost a father? Why, I have seen a British ‘child more upset at losing sixpence. Talking to little girl one day, I inquired of her concerning the health of her father. The next moment I could have bitten my tongue out, remembering that there wasn't such a thing as a father—not an American father—in the whole stree “he did not burst into tears like the o in the story books. She said, “He 3 well, thetically, just like that, “I f I replied with fervor, am sure well and happy, as he deserves to be, and one day you will find him again; you will g0 to him.” *“Ah, " she answered, a shining light, it seemed to me, upon her fair young face. “Mamma says she is getting just a bit tired of this on bhorse sort of place. ing forward to se o the fear- where passage, ved one waited for . . . . . . For one bris creature 1 thank. you,” simply, pa-y THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. and off.” “And all alone?” I com- mented with a sigh intended to invite confidence. “Well, hardly alone," che corrected me, while a look of pa- tient resignation added dignity to her piquant features; ‘“you see, there are the dear children always round about me during the holidays. Besides,” she added, “the people here are all so real kind to me, they hardly ever let me feel myself alone. We make up little parties, you know, picnics and excur- sions; and then, of course, there is the opera and the symphony concerts and the subscription dances. The dear old King has been doing a good deal this winter, too, and I must say the em- bassy folks have been most thoughtful so far as I am concerned. No, it would not be right for me to com- plain of loneliness, not now that I have got to know a few people, as it were.” “But, don't you miss your husband?” 1 suggested. A cloud passed over her usually sunny face. “Oh, please, don't talk about him,” she sald: “it makes me feel read sad thinking about him.” But having commenced I was deter- mined that my sympathy should pot be left to waste. “What did he die of?” 1 ed. She gave me a look, the pathos of which I shall never for- get. “Say, voung man,” she cried, “are you trying to break it to me gently? Because if so, I'd rather you told me straight out. What did he die’ of?" “Then, isn't he dead?” I asked; “Never ¢ being dead till started the shé retorted. “So far a cnow, he's alive and well.” o i e I sald that T was sorry. I went on to explain that I did not mean that I was sorry to hear that in all proba- bility he was alive and well; what I meant was that I was sorry I had in- word you troduced a painful subject. “What painful subject?” “Why, your hus- band,” I replied. “But why should you call him a painful subject?” I had an idea that she was getting an- gry with me. She did not say so; I gathered i€ Buf I had to explain my- self somehow. “Well,” I answered, “I take it you didn't get on well to- gether and I am sure it must have been his fault.” “Now, look here,” she said, “don’t you breathe a word against m husband or we shall quar- rel.. A nicer, dearer fellow never Jived.” “Then what did you divorce him for?” -1 asked. It was imper- tinent, it was unjustifiable. My ex- cuse is that the mystery surrounding the American husband had been wor- rying me for months. Here had I stumbled upon the opportunity of solving it. Instinctively I clung to my advantage. “There has not been any divorce. There is not going to be any divorce. You will make me cross in another minute.” But I was becom- ing reckl “He is not dead! You are not divorced from him! ® ® * Where is h I demanded with som= heat. Where is he,” she replied, as- tonish “where should he be? At I looked around shed room with its of substantial rest- 15 grew to feel a rd. All the fulness. “What home?” I asked. “What months that I wn her, seen home! Why, our home in Detroit.” nost a never once had I “What is he doing there?” I *had d 2 single L;‘;fl pate: cboas her become so much in earnest that my ‘MERE ECHOIN: never once had I heard her curs- voice had assumed unconsciously aterial, hand-carved, Of the many who called authoritative tone. Pr(sumahlyuitl}h\a“ ROOMS WFIERE of those upon her in her charming flat not one notized her. She answered my question in Berlin. It must have been the Christ- troit?” “He was quite willing for me into a heartless, selfish creature. What THE MAN WALKS husbands. had ever, to my knowledge, offered her as though she had been In the witness mas before, I think.” “If he is the dear, to come. The American and sort of a home do you think it is In BY AIMSELF— though myself, most decidedly consolation or condolence. It seemed box. “How do I know? How can I kind fellow you say he is, how is 1t is a good fellow, who likes wife Detroit, with you and the children odd, these an husbands; they llous. The overbur- possibly tell what he is doing? What (hat you haven’t seen him for two to enjoy herself.” “I am not asking for over here? Tell me, Is the Amerjcan must be & e type of humanity. rt, finding no outlet for its do people usually do at home?’ “An. years?’ “Because, as I tell you, he is ycur view on the American husband. husband made entirely of driven snow th ever 1 grief, no sympathetic ear swer the questions, madame, don't ask at home, in Detroit. How can I sce him I am asking your views on the Ameri- with blood distilled from moonbeams, children scattered over Europe. - It ne girls ap- into which to pour its tale of woe, them. What are you doing here? Quite when I am here in Dresden and he is in can wife—-on yourself. The American or is he composed of the ordinary in- isn’t going to work; it isn’t right that ¥ of them; two or breaks, we are told; anyhow, it isn't truthfully, if you please. My oyes Detroit? You do ask foolish questions. husband appears to be a sort of stain- gredients. Because if the latter, you It should work. ¥ou take the advice dren are born to them, good for it. I decided—no one else were fixed upon her. “Enjoying myself, He means to try and come over in the ed-glass saint, and you American wives take my advice and go back home. of a sincere friend. Pack up—you and there seems to be no seeming keen—t I uld supply He likes me to enjoy myself. Besides, summer if he can spare the time, and‘ are imposing upon hi It is doing I take it that in America proper there the children—and get home.” I left. m as far as this that sympathetic ear the very I am educating the children” “You then, of course—" ‘“Answer my ques- You no good, and It can’t go on for- are millions of real homes where the It was growing late, I feit it was time i. Can nothing be next time I found myself alone with mean they are here at boarding-school, tions, please; I've spoken to you once cver. There will come a day when woman does her du‘ty and plays the toleave. Whether she took my counsel hen their ¢ itutions? her I introduced the subject. “You while you are gadding about. What ,, about it. Do you think you are _ the American husband will wake up game. But, also, it is quite clear that I cannot say. !cnly know that there e of any help to them? have been living here in Dresden a wrong with American education? When forming your duty as & wife, enjoying to the fact that he’s making a fool of there are thousands of homes in Amer- still remaln in Europe a goodly number tonic, T don’t mean, long time, have You not?” I asked. did you seeyour husband last?” “Last? yourself in Dresden and Berlin while himself, and by over indulgence, over lca, mere echoing rooms, where the of American wives to whom ft is appli- merely intended to “About five years,” she answered, “on Let me sec! No, last Christmas I was your husband is working hard in De- devotion, turaing the American woman man walks by himself, his wife and cable. JEROME K. JEROME. — = — - - ———— - | ON THE BEHAVI | ILDREN IN PUBLIC PLACES | e ~ — - —_—— — L - — > 3 from attendance by too sharp a con- for their amusement. No one has children are contact with the her on the street, in churches or breeding cak well nfluences which have . Bad taste, coarseness cope for ex- proclaiming one’s assoclations and family for ng 1 are judged In public entirely by ce and actions. The ple who see children have no quire into the standing of the ¥ to make excuses for thoughtlessness. They grade them at first sight, and parents owe it to them- gelves to see that their children behave appropriately everywhere, no matter how far they may be from home. ny young people who are carefuily ined at home and who conduct hemselves with tolerable propriety un- der the parental eye are very careless about their behavior when unaccompa- nied by their elders on the street or in public places. They thereby cause much eriticism on their own characters and many unflattering comments on their parents. Chijdren should early learn that good taste and good sense require that a high standard of conduct should be maintained with special strictness in *public. They should be taught that no well-bred people wish the attention of . strangers called to them; that to make one’s self as inconspicuous as possible is the general rule of conduct outside of the home. Many of the foliowing specjal rules are intended to secure this result. Attracting Attention on the Street. See that your children know that all showy or gaudy dress is in bad taste on the street, because it attracts notice. Quiet colors should be used; extreme fashions should be avoided. Have them understand that noisy talking and laughing, indulgence in rough sport, are rude anywhere. They are especially so on the street, or in public conveyances. Young people are often thoughtlessly noisy on their way to and from school. They take up more than their share of the pavement, crowding and pushing others, or block the way at street corners while trying to bid one another adieu. By their bad manners, they bring on themselves, their family and their school an amount of blame that can easily be avoided. Other actions, awkward in them- gelves, and drawing unpleasant notice, are such tricks as eating, or chewing gum In public, pointing at objects, turning around to gaze at people, or staring at them, or staring in at pri- vate windows. See that your children are told that these last faults are not only awkward and noticeable, but are signs of a vulgar curlosity that is never felt by a well-bred person. Greeting Acquaintances. Another group of rules concerns the greetings they may give to those whom they meet. Much of character is re- vealed by the way in which they sa- lute or speak to others. The little act Twenty-Ninth Talk to Paremnts | By William J. Shearer | o of respect shown in taking off the hat may tell volumes about their natural tact and bringing up. It would be well if all children would learx to greet ac- quaintances courteously, to take off the hat properly, and on the proper occa- ons, to address strangers, when nec- essary, in a polite maner, to give in- formation cheerfully and to help gladly any one who may need assistance. Children should be told that friends and acquaintances are never greeted by a courteous person with the rude “Hello!” so common among our youth. The hat is taken off—not poked at with a finger. The name of the person greeted is al- ways spoken. The tone is always pleas- ant; never surly or condescending. A gentlemanly boy will raise his hat in bowing to ladies and to elderly men; to any friend recognized by the lady whom he may be accompanying; to any acquaintance who is in the com- pany of ladies; when a gentleman with him galutes a lady; when he {s with a lady and salutes a gentleman whom he krows; when he helps in any way a lady who Is a stranger; when he parts company with a lady. Manners in Traveling. Instruct your children that in travel- ing conduct should be marked by quietness and unselfishness. All travel brings enough discomfort without the added annoyance of nolsy and rude fel- Jow-passengers, or the trouble caused by those who selfishly disregard the rights of others. Public conveyances and stations are not the places for loud talking, for the discussion of private affairs, for the display of fine clothes, or for continual eating. See that they are made to under- stand that ore of the worst vexations of travel is the selfishness often shown. No one has a right to dispose of his wraps and luggage so that they are in the way of others, nor to occupy more than the seat paid for. when others need accommodation. Neither should he open windows when a dangerous draught or a shower of cinders for his neighbor will the result, nor spread a newspaper before his neighbor's face, nor wriggle and flounce around contin- ually to others’ discomfort. A thoughtful, kind-hearted person can do much to make a journey less wearisome to others, and to increase thelr comfort without being officious. He can help ladies with parcels, or can turn seats for them, or pull down blinds, or assist those unaccustomed to traveling. He can do all this in a tactful manner, and without in any case trying to make the acquaintance of those whom he help, or to be fa- millar with them. He—or she, rather in this case— can have the ticket ready for the con- ductor without the delay often no- ticed. The well-bred person will never crowd past others, or be in a hurry, which always implies confusion, and often results in accidents, mis- takes or loss. He will, too, keep his seat till the train stops and leave, it more safely and gracefully. At a service in church we should scarcely expect to see bad manners, as we should suppose that the sacred- ness of the place and the solemnity inspired by its associations would be sufficient to guarantee correct havior. Yet auy observant attendant at church will notice many things in children which betrays great thought- lessness, a lack of a sense of propriety and a want of the reverence that should be a trait in every well-formed character. Many of these faults are due to carelessness, many to ignor- ance, and their correction should be insisted upon by all parents, See that they understand that it is bad manners to come to church late; it disturbs others and attracts notice. It can generally be avolded. It is commonly the same people that walk in late Sunday after Sunday. The habit shows a disregard for others’ rights that is inexcusable. Tell them that in the rare cases when late tendance is unavoidable a back seat should be quietly taken, and any fur- ther progress up the aisle made when the congregation stands up. Do not fail to teach them that showy and over-rich garments should not be worn to church, They are out of keep~ ing with the object of the service; and they attract notice, and sometimes quite distract the attention of others. Plain dressing is in better taste, even for those who can afford expensive clothes; and the poor will not be kept trast between their garments and those of their wcalthier neighbors. Explain that no gaping around to see who are in seats further back, or who are entering, should be indulged in. If the culprits in this respect could see the ridiculous and “gawky" effect of their twisted necks, perhaps vanity would stop the ill-bred practice. See that they are told that no whis- pering or laughing in church is per- missible. 'Nothing is more irreverent than this; nothing so disturbs the wor- shipers; nothing so deserves instant rebuke from the officiating clergyman. Of course, no right-minded child will wear his hat inside of a church door, or scribble in books in the pews; yet occasional offenses in these respects call for a word of protest and caution. No well-bred person will lounge In church, or yawn, or be Inattentive. He will, so far as he can, follow the forms of the service, and take part where it is proper to do so. He will, of course, not laugh at anything said or done, even if the form of worship be unfa- miliar to him, or the ceremonies incom- prehensible. He will not be guilty of the “bad form” shown In slamming books into racks, instead of gently slipping them in; or in making preparations for de- parture while the minister is concluding the service. He will remember, too, on the way out that the church is not the place for soclal calls. Reverence re- quires that he should pass out quletly. Manners in Places of Amusement. Children should learn that in places of amusement bad manners are an in- fringement on the rights of others who have come for pleasure and have paid any business to come late to a play or a concert or a lecture. It breaks in upoy the performance and disturbs persons and audience alike. If one must be late, he should stand until the musical selection is finished and then go to his seat with as little incon- venience to others as possible. Children should be told that talking during the performance is intolerable, as it distracts attention and deprives others of pleasure. Expressions of im- patience at delays are like such ex- pressions everywhere—ill-bred. Com- posure and patience mark the gentle- man and lady under all circumstances. Applause should be given to what meets with approval. It is right and proper to give such a tribute to skill and artistic merit; but a demonstrs- fon with the feet is unnecessary and rude. One should stay until the close of the entertainment, even If it has proved tiresome, unless some impera- tive reason exists why one should leave early. At the present time hats are generally removed by ladles and girls at public entertainments, so that the woman or girl who keeps her head-covering on Is rather conspic- uous than otherwise, and may obstruct the view of those behind her. Finally, teach your children that no rules can provide for every variety of circumstances that may come into their experience as they meet and deal with others; but the possession of good sense, good taste, and an un- selfish spirit will show them what to do in each case. If their behavior is guided by these, they may be sure that it will be appropriate.