The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1897-11-14

I Il guess they'll go TO Europe on tnelr
wedding trip. Albert says he has always
wanted to go abroad. but has never felt
/ that he could spare the time
Yes, used to save all my husband
l cast-off clothes and give them to the poor
woman. She made them over for the chill
dren"
"Alberfs father is going to make him a
partner in the business as soon as they
| come back"
land those wretched little rooms that
they lived in! My heart often ached for
I those unfortunate children, playing around
on the bare floor, with their cold, blue
knees sticking out
"Ah, Here is Jeannette!'
"Whv. how do you do" said Jeanette,
holding out a hand to Mrs. Adkins
Come, said the latter, throwing her
arms around the sweet, beautiful girl, Il
shan't be satisfied with mere hand
shake I'm going to kiss you" Smack!
Smack SmackD "Therei Your mother has
been telling me all about it! Now ] must
be going. Good-by. Come and see me
soon"
And as she left the house her heart that
had erst been heavy was light again.
1t is surprising says Leslie's Weekly.
to know how many women there are with
a deep and burning interest in Humanity,
with big II. Individual humanity, as
represented by those who have direct
claims upon them, does not interest them
in the least. Their own husbands, their
own children, do not appeal to them, and
they have but languid interest in their
own homes. The writer was visited one
day recently by a humanitarian of this
type. Her mission was the uplifting of all
Humanity. She had, she said, consecrat-
ed her life to that end. During her call
she revealed the fact that she was 1000
mil children
They could, she affirmed, get along nice
ly without her" and she felt that she
could do a far greater and nobler work
for Humanity by working for this glorious
cause of temperance" This was her mis-
sion. 1t had been but a week since I had
met the mother of several small children
who was trying to "uplift humanity" by
going about organizing clubs for the de-
Velopment of The New Thought" After
listening for nearly an hour to an out
line of the plans and purposes of this
New Thought" scheme, l was more than
ever convinced that old thoughts are best,
particularly the thoughts of our grand
mothers regarding the first duty of wife
and mother.
There is much of exaggeration and
cheap wit in the comic papers regarding
the neglect of their homes and families
by the "new women" who have bTanched
out into fields heretofore occupied by men
alone. A good deal of the criticism of the
new woman is unfair and unjust, but the
fact remains that the woman with mis-
sion is in many cases a woman with pain
fully distorted views regarding the duty
she owes to herself and to others. The
writer not long ago heard a woman, adj
dressing a large gathering of people, say:
Il have given up my home and children,
my husband and parents, to go forth and
spread abroad the glorious gospel and to
tru 10 win ND to ,Yfs Nv
life henceforth is to be devoted to God
and humanity"
The question naturally arises, Can a
wife and mother devote herself to any
thing higher, or better, or nobler, than
the proper training of her own children?
And does not her duty to her children,
her husband and her home transcend any
duty she may owe to others? The enthu-
siast may say no to these questions, but
every true and loving wife and mother
Will say yes to both questions When a
woman has a home and children, no call
to duty is higher or more imperative than
the call that comes TO her from her own
home and in no sphere can she do a great
er or better work. The good she might
do elsewhere cannot be offered as an ex-
cuse for the neglect of those who have
the first claim on her love and care. 1t is
sometimes true that love of notoriety
and an empowering desire to be seen and
heard is the chief motive of the woman
with a mission.
Since Last We Met-Jennie Jones Cum
bingham in the New York Times.
The leaves have changed since last we
met
And I have watched them slowly fade:
I did not think you could forget
So soon, the vows of friendship made.
The summer swallows plume their wings
And soon will take their southwark
flight;
The world a darker shadow filings
And day gives place to longer night.
But in my heart a sadder chill
Than winters touch of frost can bring,
A restless grief beyond my will,
To find my love so frail thing.
It's life was but the summers leaf;
Its length-the shortest winters day.
A bud in summers rosebud wreath,
And then it faded quite away.
The leaves have changed since last we met
And thou art changed with them to me;
Tho needle to the pole-star set
Was not more true than l to thee
The leaves have changed since last we
met
And all the world is changed to met
But never will my heart forget
One look of thine so dear to me-
1t is distinctly questionable, says the
New York Tribune to be in a town as a
resident just now, and those society peo-
pie who have opened their houses for the
season for various reasons are living lin
cog" as 1t were, and neither receive nor
visit. Their entire time is taken up with
shopping, being martyrized at their dress
makers, and-what Is worse than all
servant-hunting. They indulge meanwhile
in loud lamentations over the hardship Of
being in New York at this season, and en-
vying their friends who are darling about
in hansoms, having run up from their
country places to give orders for clothes
and directions for various renoVatious in
the stately mansions which a few weeks
later must be ready to receive the family.
And yet. Fifth avenue Chat part of it. at
least, that is available) and the Park are
filled with smart tournouts, and the side
walks are crowded with well-dressed peo-
pie. To whom do the former belong. and
who are the latter?
IAN the people 1 know are In cabs or
said a