St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1893-01-22
"Well. thank goodness this is Satur2

I turned to look at the speaker, whose
girlish voice, in spite of the evident joy
of going home, had a, tired sound toit,
as | too echoed mentally, "Thank
goodness for Saturday night" 1t is
then that we shake the weeks accumu-
lation of toll and CRIME from our souls,
<ahd enter into that day Of rest without
(which poor humanity would soon be
back into the-depths from which we
have been many years climbing. The
streets even kave different look on
Saturday night. Did you ever notice it?
Every body has pleasant word for
everybody else. Tired shop girls have
look that no other evening brings. as
they crowd into the already crowded
cars, and hang by one hand to a strap,
while the other guards a package that
it is plain to be see holds some little
bit of brightness to be added
to the morrow'S makeup. Busy,
bnrly men make Jokes with each
other about what they mean to do to-
morrow. Bits of lads serving their APP.
premiership i'll stores and Offices talk
sedately about business and the hour at
which "we" close on Saturday. Work
men carry bundles that suggest, if the
of chicken do not more than suggest,
the good dinner to be eaten at home to-
morrow, the Sunday dinner towards
which the good wife has been planning
all the busy week. 60"
tits Saturday night, and if YOU come
down town after supper and keep your
eyes open, YOU can see suggestions OF
the sweetest little domestic idyls that
this dull old world affords. You notice
the couple that get III at'the next cross
ing after you are seated. They are
father and mother you know by a subtle
something you cannot define, tho both
are young. They are going out for
little fro!ic now that it is Saturday night
and the babies are i'll bed, or more likely,
her mother is keeping them. Her hat is
not very new, but you notice the ma
teral is good, and you know that she
made it'herself. She is very handy
little body. and he knew it, and
you are glad that there is still some true
lovers in the world. A pretty girl sits
across from you with her mother. You
can see the resemblance even though
the mothers face is faded aud worn, and
has that look that experience alone
can give. The girl wears a tIim-htting
idress and natty hat, and has her pretty
hair crimped over her white forehead;
you remember seeing her leave the car
every day the past week at certain
corner, and go into one OF those big
buildings where lawyers. and such-llke
folk, have their IairS, and you have
already decided that she is stenog-
rapher. But this is Saturday night, and
sshe has her weeks salary in her tidy
little pocket. and she and mother are
going down to shop. Can't you fancy
them on their rounds ? The girl
would buy all that she can
for tue mother, bat mother
protests, she does not need so many
things, but the girl, no amount OF luxury
conld be too much for her i'll that fond
mothers eyes. SO they compromise,
and some things are bought for both,
and most likely good many more for
the children at home. The mother feels
almost ashamed of her own pleasure at
| the little gifts of useless luXurieS-a bag
of candy or oranges, OF some other I'M
i accustomed thing-bUtr these are the
things that make girls say: "Thank
goodness for Saturday night" A bit
| of a boy in a worn " Jacket.
whose delicate face you have
often noticed, and alas! the crutch
by his side tell the rest of the story,
! carries basket, not a common MARKET
basket, but one of those quaint little
striped affairs called Indian Baskets
he is going shopping, too What will
l!you venture that lie does not 90 10 the
library first, and when he comes back
across the river OH top of this particular
| Sunday dinner there will not rest book
full of wonderful stories Of adyenture,a
veritable fairy chariot to carry him
away from work and worry and pain and
cross-bearing into that country where
| everything is beautiful, the giants
all good, the women fair and all the men
are gallant knights, with straight backs
and supple limbs and hearts of gold. fol
this is Saturday night? Our Puritan
forefatherS began their Sundays at sun
| down Saturday night, and they were
bright in the matter, as we are growing
to thi NIX they were in many others. The
spirit of love and self-sacrifice thai
makes Sabbath possible comes to ligh
on Saturday night. Oh, may we WheI
life's last Saturday comes, be glad tt
say, II am going home where there
shall be no more care, nor weary wan
dering feet" AUNT POLLY.