The evening world. Newspaper, June 23, 1920, Page 21

ail gh FF ie. WEDNESDAY, Loves Parties, Pretty Dresses J And “Spreads” Like Other Girls, Yet Is a Poet Prodigy She Is Only 14 Now, Yet Displays Both an Understanding of Big Subjects and a Quaint Humor. ‘tevenson. Fay Si Copyright, 1920, by pa phi Beda Co, (The New York Evening World). HERE is a very clever little girl in New York who has been writing poetry ever since she was nine years old. To-day, at the age of fourteen, she may. well be termed New York's child prodigy or youth. fal literary genius. Her name is Doris Bethoff and yesterday when I visited her at her home, No. 70 Morningside Drive, I felt that back of her merry, in- telligent, almost piercing hazel eyes there gleams the wpirit of the poetess. Seated in the living room of her home this dainty slip of @ girl just entering her teens gave me the impres- sion that she enjoys parties, wpreads, dainty dresses and those things dear to the heart of a Mttle girl, but at game time there is a spirit of the mature woman her, @ spirit of the understands and expre@s that un- ‘Take, for in- poem entitled, of An Unborn £ iv "i light proceeded w not, for I days I shall be one of you, infant knowing nothing, who Comes to this world—and to a heme forlorn, ae i where poverty and fiith iWnere. iokness and distress disturb that should be, that speaks I learned while dwelling up ‘Whence I have come, a poor, unwelcome guest. K He » To change my life for better or for 4 _ fo smooth the path that I may have my share, ~» (To which each new-born child is rightful heir) » Give it umburdened by the pauper’s course! i And fift my people from their lowly place.” * “T don’t know fust how I came to write a poem like that,” said little Doris Belhoff in response te whether she thinks her poems out or whether they come to her as an (nspiration. “I have always been very observ- ing,” she continued, “and many times when I come home from a walk I feel Uke writing about what I saw. Lots of times I push these thoughts away ‘because I have lessons to do or I want to make fudge or go out with my chums, but then again I find that I just have to expreas them. Sometimes when I am in school (I attend the School of Ethical Cul- ture) I find that an idea comes, and often I jot down a few notes before I go on with my lessons.” “You must feel like quite an old poetess,” I said. “I understand your ‘first poem was written when you ‘Were nine.” ~ “Yes, my father gave me a beauti- DORIS BEIHOFF. ful violin as a birthday gift,” laughed Miss Beihoff, “and I think that gift Pleased me so that it rather awak- ened any of the ‘poetess’ I may have in me. At first I was going to write him a Uttle note, but after I had written it it seamed too flat and not really full of the gratitude I felt, so I started a poem and here it is: “A tale is told by bow and strings, No mortal tongue ean tell; But the violin, it only sings When mortal plays it well. It rivals artist's pen and brush, It tells of mouse and mole, Of woodland-birds, the owl and,thrush, ‘The jay and oriole. i The nightingale ‘twill imitate, Its voice twofold as sweet As when this famous bird does mate, And hearse ita babes’ first “tweet.” T've such an instrument myself, gift from you, Dad dear; So I'll harness up my music-elf, To make my work sincere. Til struggle on, with wings and bow, So that I may some day The gift you did on me bestow, In harmony ropay.” Of course every one has to be “dis- covered” and this very clever little poetess was discovered by Mr. John Golden, the well-known aaithor of “Poor Butterfly,” “Goodby, Girls, I'm Through,” and a dozen other for- tune-making songs, Mr, Golden is a {rend of the Beihoff family and he thought so well of Doris’s poems that he sent a number to Judge. That Judge appreciated the talent of this little girl is evident by the full page ft devoted to her work in a recent issue, “The important fact about this “i*- tle girl other than her youth,” says Judge, “is the technical skill with which she weaves her rhymes. In depth of thought, variety of theme and cleverness of construction they measure up with the best work of our contemporary casual bards.” ‘To illustrate the humorous side of thie young mind I quote the following poem: FLU-BEY. I started with my comrades three Upon a jolly walk; Kind was their attitude toward me, And carefree was their talk And love their joyous hearts had seized, ‘They were my friends—my own, Till all at once I coughed and sneezed, And lo! I was alone, The garr Jrcmily Le MIS Cardelli. Copyright, 1980, by Tho Press Publishing Co, (The New York Evening World.) HH, dear, how tired I am!” sighed Mrs, Jarr, when Mr. Jarr came home the other evening, “and ['m glad you've come home. These children have me wor- ried to death.” “What's the matter with them?” asked Mr. Jarr. “They have not been good at all,” replied Mra. Jarr. “Not satisfied with having a good time yesterday at the Picnic—where Willie made himself sick eating popcorn and Emma got so fired and nervous we had to hold her in our laps all the way home, and she cried all the time—not content with that—and I know no other children f#hat have had so much, that see so many things, that have #0 much pleasure—they have been bothering ‘me all day to give them money to go to the moving pictur “Why didn't you give it to them and let them go?” asked Mr. Jarr. “T aid intend to,” replied Mrs. Jarr. “But if you give in to children too easily it just spoils them, and so when they asked me first I said, ‘No, cer- tainly not!’ And then they cried and carried on so that I wouldn't let them 0 just to punish them. As a result ‘IT bave a headache and you can go out to the drug store and get me some- ‘thing for it.” ‘: “Why didn't you send them to tho picture show then” asked Mr. Jarr, “if they bothered you and you wanted them out of the house?’’ . “I was so upset I never thought of 4 iceineeitiiinuitaaenreiinsiatinmessisstiiissilililllis iin. that,” said Mrs. Jarr. “Besides, that would have been letting them have their own way.” “Mamma é6aid we could go to the moving pictures if I'd stop crying coming home from the picnic,” said the little girl, who entered at this juncture, “What did you cry for?” asked Mr. Jarr. “Because I wanted to see the mov- ing pictures when I got home,” said the Httle girl, “All right,” said My, Jarr. “If you annoy your mother this way I will not let you go to the moving pictures, I'm going out to get something for your mother’s headache, and I'm go- ing to take you along with me so | will know you will not be worrying her while 1am out.” The children ran for thetr hats and walked out of the house with their father in great glee. In due time Mr, Jarr returned, and alone. “Here's your headache powders,” he id. 6a! “My headache's better now,” re- plied Mrs. Jarr, “You need'nt have gotten themy Where are the chil- dren?” ? “Why,” replied Mr, Jarr hesitat- ingly, “they wanted to go to the moving pictures and I left them there. ‘They'll be home after a whiiw Do you know,” he added, “they are the best children in the world, Just give them whatever they want and they are no trouble at all.” “They have got good dispositions, that's fact,” said Mrs, Jarr, “But there are Mrs, Rangle's children on this block who are perfect imps. If they eet thelr minds 0 aaything r MOUNTAIN SCENERY I PIFFLE ! SEASHORE WITH CHICKENS . . THE SEA AIR WILL Do You Good PA SAID CHICKENS IN | BATHING SUITS, | THAT'S THE SCENERY © FOR HIM. ie 66] will suspend sentence if you Promise not to come to New York again for three years.” ‘That's what Judge Mulqueen told two young women from New Jersey, brought into the Court of General Sessions on a charge of shop-litting by the Stores Mutual Protective As- sociation, And speaking of cruel and unusual punishments, what do you know about that? As I hurried across the river to find out just how the dread decree was going to affect the lives of Mra. Margaret Brooks and Mrs, Margaret Killion, both of No. 2 Union Street, Jersey City, I thought of how one of the worst penalties that could befall a misbehaving citi- zen under the Caesars was bantsh- ment from Rome. I remembered that other tragic banishment tmmortalized in Etward Everett Hale's story, “The Man Without a Country.” Just imagine if New York were a Forbidden City to YOU! Never again to stroll along Broadway and climb over its torn-up sidewalks, never again to be overcharged and under- fed in a Manhattan restaurant, never to pay a ticket speculator four prices to see one show, never to spend a lot more money than you can afford for pretty clothes you don't need What indeed would life be like for most of us if we were banished from New York? How could any Judge keep even a Jerseyite out of the Charmed City, I wondered. There are the ferrics that run above the waters and the tubes that run under them, and probably an airplane could be ohartered if other methods of rapid transit failed The old joke about Boston—or was it Philadelphia?—that the best thing in it was the train for New York, is ishing Co. fork.) they'll carry on terrible unless it's given them.” “Well, thelr parents spoil them by not being firm with them,” remarked Mr. Jarr, “I believe in kindness but firmness, and when I say ‘no' to my children ‘they know that ends it.” He believed it, too, But children know how to raise parents these days, . . ye i ‘You Ber ! CHICKENS IN BATHING Suits THAT S THE SCENERY FOR. NE ! I'LL THINK IT OVER. Just as true for many an inhabitant of North Jersey, who sleeps in the suburbs ‘on account of the children,” and lives in Manhattan, where both his treasure and his heart He. “Nothing but a ball and chain,” I said to myself, “can keep a girl who has been to New York from coming to New York again.” But I was wrong. “Cursed be the day I set my eyes on New York,” Margaret Brooks de- clared to me when I talked with her in the kitchen of her tiny Jersey City flat, “and cursed be the day when I set eyes on it again,” For Margaret, Judge Mulqueen’s decree of banishment certainly will hold. The blue-eyed, plump, childish mother of two little children, al- though she herself cannot be long out of her teens, wishes she never had seen this big city of ours, “But don't you ever want to see the theatres, the shops"-—I was be~ hdaahing. Co, hie New York Evening Worki,) By Maurice Ketten Do CHICKENS WEAR BATHING SUITS | | AT THE SEASHORE MA > | 7 OVER, New York—A Forbidden City to Two Jersey Girls Marguerite Mooers Marshall. ginning when she interrupted me. “I never was in a movie theatre in my life,” she declared with tearful vehemence, “And for thoke stores— oh my, I guess I don’t want to nee them again! I can buy anything I want right over here at Jackson Avenue. “I never went to New York before” —the story was rushing out now. “I Was born tn Ireland, and I came right here to Jersey City, and [ was mar- ried here. I never ate a meal in a restaurant in my life. What do I do when I want a good time? Qh, I take the children up in the park. “I didn't mean to go to New York that day. I had gone down to buy something for supper, and I met Mar- garet Killion, to whom I hadn't spo- ken for over a year, although #he lives across the hall from me. “Neither one of us knew anything about New York, and we had to ask a cop how to get to the store we went wi, | To THE WHY NOT SEA SHORE To THE FOR OUR (MOUNTAINS ; VACATION eeragsa" SEs WIFEY ) GO WHERE THE _) HICIKENS WEA J HAVE THOUGHT k JOHN. WE ‘LL Ga To THE THe KID SPILLED THE BEANS RQ). to. I couldn't go there again if you was to ask me to do it. And we met temptation and we fell. “At first, in court, I thought the Judge eaid I waa to be sent away from the children for three years, and I thought, “They'll kill me first.’ So when I found out that hé just told me to keep away from New York for that time, unless I had to go with my husband on business, I was so thank- ful, and I knew it was a good thing. I ought not to have gone there in the first place. Oh, I'll never leave my children alone again, “Oh, I know I've disgraced mysett, But nothing like that ever happened to me before, and It wouldn't have happened this time if only 1 hadn't gone to New York, And [ guess other people besides me have made mis- takes, But New York—never again for me," finished Margaret, a smile just showing on her subdued, shamed little face. | The Three Most Beautiful Women of France VER 2068 competitors in the great contest for t With out disqualifying actresses, the prize winners were chosen among the girls leading quiet family lives in the provin ces. The photo shows the three w First, second and third prize, prize winners, Left to right WEDNESDAY, THE GIRL JUNE 23, 1920 SSS ST OS Oey TO GRADUATES Culture That You Grab in College Counts More in Con- versation Than It Does in the Kitchen--The Only Volume That Nellie Needs When She Goes Back to the Farm Is a Cook Book. By Neal R. O’ Hara. Copyright, 109, by The Press Publishing Co, (The New York Evening World.) LCORATING a milk. D irl with a college education is like dipping the lilly in Edueation simply teaches the fair June graduates to face the world in summer furs and open-work stockings. yoars in the Latin factory is a terrible wi No jane ever learned more about sinks than Sanskrit in colle Aside from that, four e of rouge. and no wren ever finished knowing more about garbage than she did about Greek. frail’s biggest problem. Tha Dope on Ancient Greece Can't Rate With the Dope on Modern Lard When You're Going to Culture that you grab in college counts more in conversation than tt does in the kitchen. The dope on ancient Greece can’t rate with the dope on modern lard when you're go- ing to fry some doughnuts. Nor will the sharp-edged satire of Johnson help peel potatoes for dinner. There is only one volume that counts when Nellie goes back to the farm, and that’s a cook book, But the colleges for flossy females rate the book on kitchen conduct along with De Maupassant’s Tamale Tales and Balzac’s Hard-boiled Series, Which means that the girls never see ‘emat all, All chickens think the whole world is pure till they see benzoate stamped on a ketchup label. College misses fire with the girls for a flock of gilt-edged reasons, You can't expect a dame to keep her mind on a Bachelor of Arts when she's after a bachelor of any kind, The colleges fall down by giving the chickens Latin when what they want is love, and Anthropology when what they want is engagement rings, When Mary had a little lamb it didn’t satisfy her, and when the aver- age jane has a little sheepskin to-day she’s in the same frame of mind, The real trick is going from an alumna to an altar! If a wren doesn’t skip from commencement to the kitehen inside of two years, her coilege education is a flivver, No chicken that ever crossed a campus has ever yet preferred high Whether to graduate cum laude or without petticoats |s alwayd Fry Some Doughnuts. marks to low necks or Greek history to French heels. The educated dame these days believes the tree of know- ledge should have its limbs wrapped up in open-work stockings. And al- most any undergraduate frail would rather be a slave of fashion than a master of arts. If knowing the recipe for sixteen brands of fudge {s knowledge, then the girls’ college is a roaring success, Practically the whole senior class knows enough about fudge to start another sugar shortage. And if tha dope on both kinds of shrimp wiggle is regarded as important by educated men, then the seminary for frail has made good with a bang. But sliding from the sublime to the obnoxiout, few flappers know a pig's knucklé from an ox tail. But four college years are a lot in 4 girl's life, especially when she adds up her birthdays. You see ‘om water ing the campus grass with the tears they shed at commencement. And can you blame ‘em? If you'd blown ip $20 for armor-plate corsets and $100 more for a form-fit dress, wouldn't you weep if you had to wear a loose- Atting gown of pure biack shoddy? And maybe your complesion. doesn’ go with black, 4 Yep, commencement ts a gad time for the highbrow baby dolls. It's the parting of the ways. They can’t tel! whether life's journey is going to be a school teacher's path or a cook’s tour for ‘em, Yea, bo! Turn on the tears! REVENGE neverDAWS By Sophie Irene Loeb. Copyright, 1920, by The Pres Publishing Co, (The New York Bvening World.) E Rochester recently returned verdict of second degree mur- der against a woman, Her husband is walt execu. tion at Bing Sing. The story is @ gruesome one, but it is one of revenge, pure and simple, It seems that rr mer suitor. Gmvtamamered® = Whereupon they both took it upon themselves to ne re- venged on him In al y spot in the woods they tled him to a tree and practically beat him to death And now what is the result? Hore is this couple convicted of the most terrible crime on the calendar. T are suffering untold agonies. crything hag been done to save them without success What has their revenge done for them? ‘The worst possible thing In the world, In the vernacular, it has put them “down and out.” Here are two young people starting out in life together with every pros pect of the future killed—done fer Also 4 little unborn baby will doubtless bear the brunt tn later years, These lives, to say nothing of relatives, practic broken, all be- cause of a sinister desire for revenge. Nothing good ever resulted to people who insist upon taking the law into their own hands in the spirit of revenge It might be true that the victim lity of wrongdoing and/ de- punishinent, But Lam safe in waying that, could the couple who performed the punishment have fore~ yeen What would happen to them as . result of their act, they never would lave acted as they did y are not satisfied until ced, and then after- dissat for the balance lives for having taken the revenge. The that they take jus trouble with such ce into are people is their own the best hands and beliey judges of Justic ‘As & usual proposition, they are the » ' SUPREME COURT ta worst judges because they are them- v 80 closely concern When, oh when, will we realize that revenge is but dead sea fruit? It in return, The mo- ction is nothing com- ftermath of woe that resulta. ‘Also people fool themselves with what they term the “unwrittem law.” ‘There is no such thing. If there is an unwritten law it should be written: and the person who deludes himae! that he is going to “get away with | usually finds that the written law ts strong enough to punish him for hay- © ing availed himself of the unwritten one. Young couples, like this one, have = good example before them. In nearly every case the thing to do is not to let their future happiness be the stake to satisfy malice, The best thing Is to let bygones be bygones or else seek proper reco Certainly to@ecure revenge for somer thing that has happened in the past in nearly every case brings nothing y, hardship, and very often death ftself, — n . ¢ Prem Publishing Co CTO Tork arene Worth) D*= FRIEND: A friend of mine has a wonderful idea, It is this: He never lends money. However, if you “touch” him for a loan he gives you @ check with these words “LT never lend mon I give you this with the understanding that / when you get on your feet you will pans this money on the same way it is passed to you. “It I lend you money, tt will do you no good, but probably make us enemies, If you have the thought In your mind that you must make good in order to repay to another the good 1 have done you, then there is some incentive.” Through the kindness of my friend, many men, and women too, have been put on their (eet, Lending money has a deadening ef- fect, while ths result of my friend's plan is to wake @ person up. President Wilson has said: “The satisfaction in human: ise rae | to wake vomabedy, up.’ Yours sims cerely, ‘A ‘SMirne, 3 —_- ne enn a