Belding banner. (Belding, Mich.) 1889-1918, 1895-06-13
THE WIT OF MAN.

Joyous gathering OF tennis players and
girls laughing TO the sun, but the
gloomy affair OF the morbidly select.
In bright red she blossomed with all
the sweets OF a woman majestically
feminine. Her crisp, black hair seemed
ready to fly out against CONVENTIONAL
ties, against hats particularly, and her
brown eyes were golden with the Joy
OF life; wit had chiseled her features,
so excellently irregular In the round
ness OF their curves, to pointed nose
and chin. could not but enjoy, as a
relief from all the elaborate angles OF
her stiff surroundings, the rapid I'M
dulations OF her 1.-THE figure. her ex-
pressive arms, dancing little feet, as
she sat there, wild gypsy. fashion
able and polished, but stin unframed
by society. Pouting like some playful
child over lessons, her mouth rigidly
set against the Pickering dimples Of
irresistible laughter. she listened to
the pompous old Due de Retz, or an
swered his wise sentences at random,
WIN Il wave or her hand.
who is she?' inquired of M. PIN
odan de St Ouen, a walking edition
OF lie Tout Paris" tightly bound In a
frock coat.
why, that is In belle Comtesse de
!Crequi de Canaples; widow, mon
cher, young, rich. If you admire her,
here's your chance. The duke is dying
to talk politics with the Dowager de
Bsudricourt. Forward. to the rescued"
And NJ. Pimodan emitted that short,
dry cough which serves him as laugh
or cough, while / stepped up to NJ. de
Retz, who gratefully introduced me.
Dear cousin. Mr.. Castlehigh-Com-
tesse de Canaples."
And he retired as Nine. de Canaples
smiled up at me with her humorous
eyes. Her voice was fiuently musical
as she gaily said, 1--WE are not quite
strangers, for / have met your charm
ing sister at the Piot-Chandieus." Be
fore 1 could frame a compliment, she
suddenly added, ''Do you love her"
"Who?"
"Your sister, OF course. i like every
man to love his sister"
well, / hope / do"
You only hope! Are you an Eng
lishmanf"
More or less"
LESS, decidedly less. An English
man with blue eyes like yours should
not only be honest and brave, but
sure, sure Of everything. Don't you
see? Don't you understand what
strength, what manliness there Is In
being absolutely sure, even II you are
quite wrong? 1t Is healthy; every.
thing strong and absolute Is healthy.
What are you, thenW
well, a cosmopolitan"
"Ah! bahw she exclaimed, with q
toss Of her diminutive hend, as she
surveyed me good-humoredly. And
that means that you are not interest.
ed In anything but the surface OF
things; that your Aspirations 20 no
higher than a life will carry you; that
your feelings, philosophy, love, lounge
in a mental Hotel Metropole, and
never work at home. Have you nc
preference for any country"
81 think prefer France"
"For shame! you a Castlehigh; you
whose very name seems rooted In
Saxon soil! All" she added, with an
other of her kindly smiles, IL see II
all; you think to flatter. But why
should you not speak tue truth?
adore the truth! You cannot possibly
love anything better than your birth
place, your family. your home"
laughed, saying: "You see. my
mother was French"
She seized my hand and shook Il
frankly, as she exclaimed: Then you
really did love your mother? You love
her country? IT'S well! All human
greatness OF man Is In his devotion tC
his mother. France then seems to en-
fold you In her arms; the very all
caresses, soothes and nurses you! Bu'
nevertheless, you are an Englishman
This mixture of races and names
breaks traditions OF hereditary faith
Man must be steadfast. Only a woman
may capriciously adopt and passion
ately her love across the seas; may
be irresponsible, except to God, her
self and her husband. Man must bs
| the rock to which we cling. He IL
our country, our name, our heart
Remember that song Of your people:
"In spite OF all temptations
To belong to other nations,
He remains an Englishman."
slow nice OF him! You know there
are temptations, for England meant
duty-but am preaching; excuse me
You have such a real, honest British
face, that l cannot help feeling dis
appointed at finding you a mere cos
mopolitan. Go back TO England
there is the place for the clever and
the brave
"You fiatterr'
Never
But feel battered"
you should feel ashamed, then, Al
flattery commences where truth ceases
Are you not clever; are you no
brave? Well, at any rate you have
enough false modesty to please mos
people OF the world"
l blushed.
"Have l hurt your feelings, sh'
~alA ,x,ftl, -. topd on my arm In