The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1897-08-04

uOG nave 4eo Jou 5o apooo on"o SlAA
Ely gray muslin. I had a contempt
for cheap things, especially for you
didn't I, my dear p
"You certainly did," she said with
a kind of sad, reminiscent smile in
her tone of voice, ''but this muslin is
good enough now. But you had bet
ter 70 to town. There are four little
grandchildren here to dinner and
Aunt Ann wants the rice rightaway."
"And wants it right away" Ihummed
to the tune Of "Auld Lang Syne."
Somehow I can't get that refrain out
of my mind-"And wants it right
away"
Sometimes I think that men don't
understand nor appreciate woman's
nature. She was created with a love
for the beautiful, for ornament, for
flowers and gems and jewels and gold
and silverware and damask and fine
linen. She can't help her nature,
and this very nature proves that she
is nearer heaven than we are. What
do I care for diamonds /? Not a cent.
I wouldn't give a dollar for a bushel
of them. An old-fashioned tin waiter
with flowers painted on it is as good
as a silver one to me. [ wouldn't
wash the window glass more than once
a year, and e washpan suits me as well
as a china basin. But I recognize the
fact that I am a man with an unrein-
ed nature. The twelve gates of the
new Jerusalem that are made Of preci-
Gus stones are no attraction to me;
neither are the gold-paved streets that
St. John saw in his vision. But still
I have hope of getting there and be-
coming more refined, for I do love
flowers and pretty birds and orange
trees and luscious fruits and beautiful
scenery and mountains and the great
waters of the mighty sea. My wife
and my daughters can spend half a
day in To- king at the beautiful things
in the show windows in Atlanta, but
I never stop to gaze or to admire ex-
cept, perhaps, to look at the photo
grapher's display or the life-like mol
els Of lovely women that seem smiling
at my three-score and ten. Reading
and observation teach me that all good
men have reverence for womanhood
and are conscious of her better nature,
her better morals and emotions.
Shakespeare and Scott write of women
as ministering angels. Wadsworth
says of her creation
"a perfect woman nobly planned.
To warn, to comfort and command"
No great poet W. such a rake as
Byron would have written:
'As we'll believe a woman, or an epltaph,
Or any other thing that's false"
Even Soloman in all his glory with
his wives and concubines, said:
"Young man, rejoice with the wife
of thy youth, and be thou always raw
isbed with her love-"
Edward W. Box says in the Ladies'
Home Journal: "No economy is so
false and misguided as that which
seeks to withhold n pleasure from
the life of a good woman, a true wife
or a loving mother. The best home a
maa can give her becomes tiresome if
she is asked to live in it and stay in
it 365 days in a year. The Lord
knows that woman's life is hard
enough. She travels a path Of endur-
ance and suffering to which the aver
age man is an entire stranger. Then
let us make that path as pleasant, as
easy and as bright as possible. Every
dollar that a man spends on his home
for the happiness and comfort of his
wife will come back to himfour fold"
That is true-all true. Better mend
the broken pane Or that sash cord or
that gate latch and sometimes take an
hour off from business and take her to
ride. The Odd Fellows and Masons
and Knights of Pythias are good in
situations, but should not come in be-
tween a man and his wife. The
mother wants help with the children,
for I tell you, my brethren. there is
no care nor anxiety like nursing and
caring for a little child, and nobody
but a mother will do it willingly. A
mother who has reared eight or ten
children from infancy to maturity,
and four years of the time during a
pitiless war, when she had to flee from
the foul invader with her little ones
and hide them, half clad and always
hungry, can say with Paul, II have
fought a good fight I have finished
my course" Yes, Paul said that,
but he was an old bachelor, and knew
nothing Of what a mother suffers.
The most pathetic line in all poetry is
that of Fitz. Greene Halleck, where he
apostrophizes death:
'Come to the mother when she feels
For the first time her first born's BREATH"
The death of a young mother in
childbirth is the saddest of all natures
calamities.
Maternal love-maternal interest !!
What is it that so inspires a woman
to bear her fate-to suffer and be
strong? BILL ARP.