Los Angeles herald., 1890-08-08
WOMAN AND HOME.
THE SAD TIME IN A WOMAN'S LIFE,
WHEN SHE HAS NO PLACE.

The Happy, Careless, Motherly Woman.
Some Things Never in Pashion-Fifth
Avenue Belles-It Was Woman's
Idea-An Old waiter-Gentle Hints.
There is time in woman's life when
she is too old for the dance and frolic of
the young, and too young for the quiet
corner of the old No class claims her.
She feels often like an alien from the COM
monwealth of womanhood. In charitable
work and in social life the invisible line is
passed. No one invites her now to preside
at the fancy booth or hasten the sale of
flowers with her gracious smiles. Neither
is she asked to give the dignity of her age
and position as one of the patronesses of
the fair. She is laughed at if she dresses in
the gay colors her soul loves, or scolded
(by her family for always wearing black
She has no part in the play, but is quiet
ly relegated to the position of stage setter
and prompter while younger and older
women pose and win applause. Her beauty
is not at it's best. She has neither the fair
girlish face which is the prophecy of what
It will be, nor the sweet old face which is
the history of what it has been. White
hair does not crown her with glory, and
she has lost the golden curls of her youth.
The blossom has faded and the fruit does
not yet compensate for its loss.
The trials of the transition state envelop
her in the home Sometimes she feels that
her husband is almost deserting her for
the young daughter who is the second edi-
tion of the girl he fell in love with years
ago. The solving of the domestic problem
has not made such drafts upon his mental
and physical resources as it has upon hers.
10 ;c a ",
one dreams of asking him to step aside
from any familiar path.
At times she wonders if she is not
childless woman. She was necessary to
her little children, but her growing sons
and daughters do not seem to need her; at
least they do not cling to her with the ten
der caresses Of their babyhood. Studies,
teachers classmates and embryo love af-
fairs fill their lives so full that the mother
almost feels crowded out.-Harper's Bazaar.
The Happy, Careless, Motherly Woman.
But there's something white waving in
the air further down. 1t is on the wrong
corner. 1t isn't-yes it is-a baby. The
woman's hands are so full she can't wave
anything else but the baby, and he likes it.
Careless women's babies always do like all
manner of irregular things, and thrive on
them. And she is such careless, happy
go-lucky woman, with her bonnet all awry,
her arms full of bundles, and the baby al
most upside down on her shoulder. Such
an indignant woman for moment when
the car rumbles past her, such good na-
tured one when she sees the mistake she
has made. Over the cobble stones, through
the mud, splash into puddle she hurries,
her face growing more crimson, her bang
straighter every minute, and at last half
falls, half plunges into the car as the con-
ductor, angry at the delay, pulls the bell
rope sharply, and we trundle on again,
while the careless woman drops one bun
die, lets fall two more trying to secure the
first, and nearly drops the baby picking up
all three.
1t is safe to wager that she is as kind as
she is careless, that her house looks as if
two cyclones have held courtship in it,
but that you'll have the incest home din
ner if you drop in unexpectedly that hun
CRY man ever devoured. Not the fancy
ices and frills, but the cream gravies and
thick pies and white bread that your moth
er used to make, and a welcome warmer
than an August noon. The dear, motherly,
careless woman, a little too stout, little
too noisy, but with room in her big, warm
heart for all suffering humanity. There
are days when you'd rather be held to her
capacious bosom, even at the risk of being
smeared with the molasses one of the twins
has Just wiped off on her as she caught him
mp, because he bumped his precious head
with the hammer, than be admitted to the
presence of queen.-New York Sun.