The evening world. Newspaper, November 9, 1908, Page 13

Meditations of «f+ #$¢ efe ete a Married Man By Clarence L, Cullen D000000000000000000 0000000000000 0000000000000 restaurant, theatre or elsewhere, |and three-quarters to serve nothing, of flirting with a cross-eyed old} don’t tell her that you're too busy for woman in a Pals- | that. Otherwise she'll vow and vum that ley shawl, don’t fly |you want to hurry her along so that off the handle and | you'll be able to take your stenographer vow to her that |out to luncheon later. you'l never take | Always enfold her in your arms when, her out again, No |betng tightly cornered in an argument, use in heaping up|she begins to cry, This serves to| vows that you'll| strengthen her in fairness, reasonable- fave to eat, You'll |ness, logic and such items. take her out again| Don't pop back suddenly when you've all right and you'll |Stormed out of the apartment after sh be unfairly ac-| begun to cry. Otherwise you might find | cused of the same |her engaged in calmly powdering her koo-oo business Nose and her tears all gone, which would | X60 he disconcerting to her and disillusion- ling to you. | Whea she messes your newspaper into a hopeless tangle, before you've even glanced at it, in order to cut out | the embroidery pattern on the Woman's Wes she unfairly accuses you, inyd'hote lunches where it takes an hour CLARENCE L CULLEN When she appears with another peck or so of near-hair puffs apd asks you how you like her hair that way, tell her that she a Tey or reminds you Fa eee noone et aoe, | Page, look pleasant and read Buckle's privately, what, grisiy Jokes Reynolan| History of Civilization instead of the aban y Aik, ake ONL aie ed newspaper. Always try to make aha pas f believe that Providence means | HiGisverswonior Macaw ana torcenr (a little things for your moral good | GRECO G ORCS Ars and vow're | and mental uplitt | Sukeas When her militant, granite-faced, sut- | fragette aunt, ‘visiting’ you, tells you | that i men are shrimps, eocene tad- poles, 1s cave dwellers and sons | generally, observe to y, at bedtime, that that | 8 a mighty superior and and that you only wish more like her, Thus, the nt will be on her way pretty soon. , iplains Vitterly of the all of your ks. wor . and the: £ callumping a frolic with fox invite attention of he ites of this ch her posit W eats a pound or 8c ted t bedtime and then wa U pi f the night with a! middl a e around and get s the « ttle and smellin t and then tell her, soothing- that the phono; music sh jed to before turning im must have too exciting for tired, over tnerves. ‘They can't help bating reasons, and they love to be that they possess overwrought she tells you from day to day ' the aps Whom she could ¢ rried out of nillionair u don't sigh heavt 41 100! pondent over it, Otherwise she might imagine that you're » didn't marry one of them, 1 and there's sake, but for pod in starting yours, these imaginings x Door WODIAGOLGOTOOODSOIIOOOI NH Sayings of Mrs. Solomon. ; (being the Confessions of the Seven Hundredth Wile.) Translated by fielen Rowiand, SOCSOOTS IDO MOM thy heart, oh my Daughter, when thou con- templatest matr yea thyself not only, Ca at but "Can 1 STAND him | c thy that thou mayest nd man’s buff. paineth when thou henrest his ring at owt ALL he telleth thou knowest him to be ABSOLUTELY- thee lying? PERPECTLY RIGHT—ey n soda thou coffee and wouldst flirting and thy hair; orsets and powder upon thy nose should Yea, would adopt common sense shoes and be. come a vegetarian or a Buddhist for ou love hi ina addy a soiled collar—ey on’ though he smoked a pipe and lost his fro: d his: watet-linc | For, verily, verily, I say unto thee, ea and all of these things are likely | to Pappen Now tet no woman marry a man with w would not be deliriously | happy in te Sahara ert-yea, even in a it with canned bacon for! dur on . For the woman who marryeth for ce nee discovereth that there is no sharin in marriage, even from the of the chiffonter drawers anid ives-in-law convenienc the clothes brush to the entertaining of he G YY Wy ty i YjYy/, d WY fff, lL YY Uf at THT U GE com ‘iy LMU AY Must BE MURDERING, Wy, rae ae aAo i) | HH UTE S93 Sf Wize E> A Flight of Fancy ANG, y) Sy y reat | | | LZ SS} \tain to make Bl very general favor- SSS By F. G. Long UR martyra of the six- teenth century are our precedents and exponents of the nineteenth,” says | Whipple. | It is only the negative man who sees | no progress, “Brother Jasper made no discovery when he declared: “The world do |movel He simply echoed « truism. Some people, however, seem bent upon strangling that golden fact. In magnifying our own little ills into mountains of evtt we blind our- selves to the real truthe of Nfe. Do you think @ Herod or a Nero would be possible in the twentieth century? Do you imagine that any of the so- called ctvilized nations would counte- nance a Borgia or a Cortez? We are a long way from the millen- nium, but we're on the way, Our civilization needs civilizing, but it soars a good deal higher than that of, the seventeenth century, Since the days of Copernicus the world has not etood still. English history affords, perhaps, the most striking example and proof of the world’s progress, 1 “The Barns of Ayr,” where the Scotch, while under a flag of truce, were treacherously hanged. Think of the brutal murder of Hasel- rig, which cost England so dearly, ¢ Do you tmagine the twentieth century Briton would condone those crimes? The killing of Cranmer, despite his sins, would be impossible in this age. “The contemptible monk,” as Luther was called, but the world had made some progress between the days of Savonarola and Luther. “Richard Baxter,” says Macaulay, “be- longed to the mildest and most tem- erate section of the Puritan body, the doctrines of the ‘Saints’ would hardly pass current in England ople Are Becoming ~ ~w” Better--Not Worse By John K. Le Baron 4 ic OIDOTIDOHWOSOOSHOSHHOOHTODISISOOOS LC to-day. A Jeffreys would be « twentieth cen- tury impossibility. It 1s but half century since the last epoy mutiny, but we doubt if Eng- Jand would stand now for the savagery of that rebellion, If one seeks striking evidence that the world is growing better compare the relgn of thetlate beloved Victoria, or the present King, with those af Jolin, the Jameses, the Georges or Richard of York. The ethical:atmosphere of “the mother country” ts purer than it was. Spain 1s @ pathetic exception to the rule of progress, It proves that a nation that docs not progress must decline. “The world do move,” and the na tion that stands still cannot endure In the evolution of the ages our stand ards have been raised. We aim to-day; ‘at higher ideats, In this country the evidences of prog- ress are not so marked, for we are still In our infancy, but no one believes that this country would abet the witob- craft horrors thet stained our history but @ Ittle more than two centuries ago. We have in a large measure grown “out of the darkness—into the ght.” Can you tmagine to-day a howling} mob dragging a patrict through the streets of Boston? The justice of Garrison's cause makes the blot the darker and the proof of our progress the more marked. By the inventive genius of the past century we have made tremendeus strides forward. We have also evolved out of and way from our superstitions and our vices. We must either progress or deokine, We cannot stand stil. HE very small ay amount of labor which is ine volved in the making of this pretty prin- cesse apron is cer ite ite. It ts becoming and practical, and can be made from any apron material, croas barred muslins and the more fancy ones as well es the plain lawo | Dhue trated, Tt hae-qenet ous, roomy patch pockets, and will really protect the gown at the same time that ft ts attrac- tive in effect, eo that {t cannot fufl to find admirers among ac- tive womenfolk, let their employment take what form it may, In this case the trimming ts em broidered insertion, but there are a great many bandings thas can be used, or if & material stitched as each edge will be sufe ficient. The quantity of material required tor the medium sise ts O% yards %, 4% yards 86 oF ¢4 inches wide, with 64 yards of insertion, @ or 42 inches bust measure. Obtale Call or send by mall toTHE EVENING WORLD MAY te TON FASHION BURZAU, No, 183 Bast Twenty-third strest, New York. Send # cents in coin or stamps Pattern No, 6145 ts out in three-stses—emall’@? or Ot, medium SironiGR tangs ‘Yea, the woman wha marryet money selleth herself, but the woman These TIMPORTANT—Write your name anf addsens plainly, und who marryeth for love knoweth not that she 4s sold! And she goeth cheup. | ways specify sise wanted. Belah! | Rt ee ete es $ $ Pe *poeeees o $:69440006496-94-04:6900469060000006009048 00-06 eoegasd y Robert W. Chambers, € younger set 2x aA velati tw Society A too? and "A evetation oO e or octely “The Firing Line” and “A Fighting Chano>.”! $0004 do 0404+ 9299999924 9O99-009090-09-000.4058-006. dO099959-9990090409008 PPLODG99-D 99988OOODEEEIOEHIDLOLDD OL DOLLDOLIDGHDOOLLIDHIOELOLG PLA DDLD DDD ODODQOOPE DODO VDE DOVE LOPE DIO PIL GOD DIN, (Copyright. 1907. by Robert W Chambers) denness of their assault, that he learn | sequent upon Nina's goading and inde- | would rather have had him penniless | Fortunate or unfortunate, Gerald was| Thinking of death, impersonally, he hanging up the receiver, she rode into the Academy stables. And to curb and subdue, and direct them in fatlgable activity; and Eileen danced and present than absent and opulent, still lucky in his freedom to hazard it| sat watching the flames playing abo On his way to the Gerards’ he bought/!n he went, headlong, after her, and synopsis oF PREVIOUS INSTALMENTS. |PItY toward that hopeless, helpless, |and received, and she bridged and But they were young and foolish, and | with chance and fate. | the heavy log; and as he lay there in| box of the confection dear to Drina. | found her dismounted and standing wit! ‘Philip Selwyn bas left the army vecauss | Stricken creature who was so utterly Junched, and she heard opera Wednes- after a while they forgot to miss him,| Freedom to love! That alone was) his chair, the unlighted pipe drooping| But as he dropped the packet into his| her mother, and he took off his hat and bis wife, Allxe, unjustly divorced him to| dependent upon him in her dreadful |days and was good to the poor on Fri- | particularly Gladys, whose mother had | blessed, though that love be unreturned. | in his hands, the telephone on the desk | overcoat pocket the memory of the past | he said to her mother: ‘I've run quite marry Jack Ruthven, » cotillion leader, Re: | isolation days; and there were balls and thea- asked her not to dance quite so often| Without that right—the right to love~| rang, and he rose and unhooked the re-|rose up suddenly, halting him, He) a long way to tell you who I am. TI am turning to New York. Phillo falls 1n love| And he could not so direct them. tres and classes for intellectual im-| with Gerald and to favor him a trifle|a man was no man. Lansing had been! ceiver, could not bear to go to the house with-| Col, Gerard's son, Austin, Would you with Bileen Brroi. ward of bis breiherda: Loyal in act and deed, his thoughts | provement and routine duties incident to | jess frequently in cotillon. Which pre-| correct: such a man was a spectre in @! Drina's votee inded afar, and:| out some Iittle gift for Eileen, and it re to know me jaw, Austin Gerard. ian loess) 4 betrayed him, Memories, insurgent, | obligations born with those inhabitants yoyance had been co with success-| Hving wor'd—the ghost of what he had| “Hello, sweetheart he said gayly;| was violets now it was in the days ‘And he looked at the Mttle girl, who 5 race,{turned on him to stab him; and hv |of Manhattan who are numbered among fully by Nina, who, noticing {t, at first| been, But there was no help for 4t,/ "le there anything I ean do for your] that could never dawn again—a great, |had curls precisely ke yours, and the shrank from them, cowering among his'the thousand caryatides that support |took merely @ perverse pleasure in foll-!and there Lansing had been tn the, youthful highness? |fragrant bunch of them, which he would | same litle nose and mouth, And that pillows at midnight. But memor upon their jewelled necks and naked |ing Mrs. Orchil; but afterward, as the| wrong. No hope, no Lelp, nothing for) “I've been talking over the ‘phone to|leave for her after his brief play-hour| ttle girl, who 18 now your mot merciless, and what has been ts shoulders the social structure of the affair became noticeable, animated by |it but to set @ true course and hang Roots,” she sald, ‘You know whenever | with Drina was ended. aid very simply; ‘Won't you come out pity; and so remembrance ri metropoll |the instinct of the truly elever oppor- | to it. I have nothing to do I call up Boots| The child was glad to see him, and/home to luncheon with us? May lic midnight from {ts cerements, spectre, floating hefore his covered eyes, wearing the shape of youth and love, crowned with the splendor of her hair, looking at him out of those clear, sweet eyes whose gaze wos purity and truth eternal. And truth {8 truth, though he might lle with hands elinched across his brow to shut out the wraith of it that haunt- ed him; though he might set his course by the falth that was in him, and put away the hope of the world—whose hope 1s love—the truth was there, star- ing, elie ulm “to mak ana im to make site ‘home. Philip consents, CHAPTER XI, (Continued,) His Own Way. Me turned heavily in his chair and wtared at the fire. Perhaps he saw tn-| ferna! visions in the flames; perhaps the blaze meant nothing more to him than * . ° . e © . pn exainple of chemioal reaction, for had seen her seldom that winter. his face was eet and colorless and va-| When he had seen her their relations pant, and his hands i sely along | appeared to be as happy, as friendly as the padded arms of his easy-chatr. before; there was no apparent con- ‘The hardest lesson he had to learn tn| straint, nothing from her to indicate But Selwyn, unable longer to fulfil) his social obligations, was being quietly eliminated from the social scheme of things. Passed over here, dropped there, counted out as one more man not to be depended upon, st Was not a question of loss of caste; he simply stayed away, and his absence was accepted by people who in the breathless pleasure chase have no leisure to inquire why a man has lagged behind, There were rumors, however, that he had merely temporarily donned overalls for the purpose of making @ gigantic fortune; and many an envious young fellow asked his pretty partner in the dance if it was true, and many @ young girl frankly hoped it was, and that the fortune would be quick in the making, For Selwyn was well younger set, and that he w of becoming eligible interested every- body except Gladys and the Minster days was to avold thinking. Or,/that she noticed an absence for which he must surrender to the throbbing, | his continual business with the Govern- memories whieh came crowd: | ment seemed sufficient excuse, ng in hordes to carry him by the sud- Besides, her daye were full Gaya, com twina, who considered him sufficiently eligible without the material additions vequiged by thely cynical seniors, ang tunist, she gave Gerald every fighting! ana selwyn's dull eyes rested upon, at his office and talk to him.” chance, Whatever came of tt-and, nO line ashes of the fire, and he saw his| “That must please him," suggest doubt, the Orchils had more ambitious | geaq youth among them; and, in the|Selwyn, gravely, views for Gladys—tt was well to have Gerald mentioned in such a fashionable It does. Ing to business to-day. flames, his maturity burning to embers. If he outlived Alixe, his life would le Boots says you are not go- So I thought expressed herself so, coming across to the chair where he sat end leaning |against him, one arm on his shoulder " she said, “that I miss Do you know, also, ed “Do you you ever so much? episode, whether anything came of i OF! 4. t)4 ashes lay at his feet. If she out-|!’d call you up." \that I em nearly fourteen, and that not, |lived him—and they had to’d him there) “Thank you," sald Selwyn, |there 18 nobody in thiv house near Gerald, in the early days of his affair) was every chance of “It—at least he, ‘You are welcome, What are you @o-| enough my age to be very companton- with Gladys, and before even 1t hud as house?” sumed the proportions of an affair, had | shyly come to Selwyn, not for confes- | sion, but with the crafty purpose of in- troducing her name into the cony. tion so that he might have the luxury of talking about her to somebody who would have something to busy himself ing over there in Boots with in life if he was to leave her pro. vided for when he was no longer there to stand between her and charity. That meant work—the hard, inc “On! binding, stupefying work which stuns|somewhere. 1 thought and makes such @ life endura-|for an hour ing to the purring of three fat tab’ ant haven't anything to Can't you Looking at the fire, Drina, and Iisten- |» Mother and Fileen have gone me around?” I have asked them to send me to 1, and mother ‘s considering it." ne leaned against his shoulder, curly head bent, thoughtfully studying the turquotse ring on her elim finger. It a was her fret ring. Nina hed let Boots give tt to her. would neither quiz him nor suspect him. | pie. feat ten ee. ea hat a tall girl you are growing Selwyn, of course, ultimately sus-| Not that he had ever desired death! “Yes, 1 do. Of course I can't have * he said, encircling her wast with |pected him; but as he never quiazed| as » refuge or as 4 solution of despair, Boots, and I prefer you next. The arm. "Your mother wae like you him, Gerald continued his elaborate ays-| there was too much of the soldier in dren are fox hunting, and {t bores ime urteen. # * * Pid she ever tel! tem of subterfuges to make her per him, Besides, it ts impossible for) Will you come how she first met your father ality and doings @ tople for him to ex-| youth to beleve in death, to learn to| ‘Yes, When? “ I'll tell you then. Your father pand upon and Selwyn to listen to. apply the word to themselves. He had| “Now, And would you mind bringing | was @ schoolboy of fifteen, and one day Selwyn; he thought of | to learn to, and he had seen death, and|me @ box of mint paste? Mother won't he saw the most wonderful little girl mory lik Tay of | watched It; but for himself he had not | ob Besides, I'll tell her, anyway, | riding @ polo pony out of the park, Hes Mgbt flung for @ moment across the Liearned to believe in it, When one w I've eaten them. mi wae riding with her And he pombre background of Lis Owe sadness forty Ub ie easier Wo credit “adh right’ said Selwyn, laughing and | lost bie heed and ren after ber unui! mother? He has run a very long way to be polite to us. “And your mother's mother looked at the boy for a moment, smiling, for he was the !mago of his father, who had been at school with her, Then she said: ‘Come to luncheon and tell me about your father, Your father once came @ thousand miles to see me, but | had started the day before on my | wedding trip.’ Ann? er Gey aan! ee eee “And that te how your father first met your mother, when she wes « tle girl," Drina laughed: ‘What @ fanny boy father was to run after @ strange gir n @ polo pony! ¢ * * Buppe | pose he had not seen her, and b a not run after her, * * * where would J be now, Uy Puilipt * 9 * 4 you please tell me?” ‘still aloft among the cherWitay sweetheart.” (To "Be Ovatinuet.) =e a