The times. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1890-1903, 1895-11-03


OF tho generous father who tolls to main
tain them In comfort, and OF the gentle
mother who denies herself much that they
may nave so many pretty things, to
count the cost and draw the line between
the essentials and the nonessentials, girls
who are unselhsh and eager to be JOY
and a comfort in the home rather than
an expensive and useless burden. We
want girls with hearts. girls who are full
Of tenderness and sympathy with tears
that flow for others ills and smiles that
light outward their own thoughts. We
have lots Of clever girls. and brilliant
girls. and witty girls. Give us a con-
signment of jolly girls, warm-hearted and
impulsive girls. kind and entertaining to
their own folks and with little desire
10 shine in the garish world. With n few
such girls scattered about life would
freshen UP for all Of us, as the weather
does under the spell of soft spring rain.
Speed the day when this sort of girl shall
fill the world, overrunning the spaces
where God puts them, as climbing roses
do when they break through the trellis
20 glimmer and CLINT above the common
highway, a blessing and boon TO all
who pass them by
Every day / ride on a train I'm the
early morning with hosts of business mon
on their way to town. They all have
the appearance OF being well fed and
cared Tor. To use scrptural phrase,
their eyes stand out with fairness" and
they are seemingly on the sunny side OF
care As the train gldes by the prett,
suburban dwellings where .hese men live
l am pained TO notice something which
forms the basis OF the present musiny.
Ihere Is an invariable nutfering of hand
kerchiefs from the windows Of the houses
we pass, to which there is not the slight
est attention paid by these home-speed-
ing husbands. In my minds eye | can
see half-dozen danes leaning against
tne cold. damp window pane, flattening
their noses against the slippery glass
mat they may speed the sad heart of
their unwilling lords TO town, How they
NY from the coy breakfast table and
seek the chilly outlook Of the window,
How faithful and unforgetting they are.
and how they say TO themselves poor
Fellow; he shall not go away to that
dreadful grind of business without a
final good-by wave from me-"
And they imagine that their husbands
sit with thronging tears and watch the
huttering handkerchief. saying unto them
selves Bless her dear heart. there she
IS! L knew she would NOT forget on
how hate to tear myself away from her
ana my happy, happy homer' Don't YOU
go on believing any such fol-de-rol. nv
dear. those men never even glance vo,lr
way, and they never see one Of vour
handkerchiefs! The moment they oct
INTO the car they begin to smile. and tho
smile broadens into a laugh when some
one tells good story. so that when the
lrdlh slldes by you the sinners have as
cohiPie'eiy forgotten you as you have
forgotten the feather you wore on your
nat dozen years ago Men are hum
bugs They are nothing more than bovs
IN elongated trousers. They remind me OF
the mold in confectioner's window
iaIitles as TO shape, but empty, And vet
IKE them. We all do. II We didn't
there wouldn't be 50 many Of us 10 shake
those unheeded handkerchiefs Bur what
Is the use OF our continuing to make
spectacles Of ourselves in chilly parlors
or on freezing doorsteps, waving a low
ing farewell TO creatures who never take
note or our demonstration. Tomorrow
morning when the dear. overworked. dis
heartened fellows go 10 town let us go on
eating toast and drinking hot and creamy
coifee-it will be pleasanter for US and all
the same TO them.
cont like clocks. They are like your
frank people, always bawling unpleasant
truths, As | look up from my work M
intervals and catch the eye of that bra
zen little monster on the shelf is almost
seems 10 De saying: An. ha, Wouldn't
ike TO keep your bloom little longer
would you? Don't like 70 think how late
i'm the day it's getting for some folks.
and how near the bedtime of the gravel
But mortals can't hold onto youth. and
they can't forget the grassy inn where
they must sleep tho night OF death away
NoIre on the lightning express that stops
at no station this side Of eternity and
I've got hold OF the throttle. my dear"
Well. go on with your exulting beat Of
passing time, little clock. Swing yourself
loose and hurry on away TO the sea as n
spiteful tug tackles an outward-bound
ocean liner. Some day we will get II all
back on you. when We stand under the
new heavens checked off with no meridian
Of time. We shall forget you and your
paltry environments as completely as the
summer forgets the storm. Meantime |
wish | could demolish you with meat
ax,-Amber, in Chicago Times-Herald