The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1902-03-08
THE SCRANTON TRIBUNE-sATURDAY MARCH s. 1902

American woman credit for good taste
| but not for good sense--that Is, she
| often has the taste to furnish her
house simply and we'll If she only had
the courage of her convictions. But
there she halts and fails, and there she
lacks good sense. She hesltates to live
her own life; she is afraid to do what
| she feels and knows is the right thing
| to do and she generally winds up in
doing the very thing which in her heart
| she does not want to do, and which she
knows is the wrong thing. The Amer
| lean woman's greatest fault Is her fear
| of being judged by her neighbors. She
| is invariably guided by the thought of
what others VIII say of what she does.
| BY that yardstick she dresses herself
| and her children. She furnishes her
| house. She joins clubs because Mrs
| So-and-So asks her and she doesn't like
| to refuse. She lives her life for others
| in fact but not In q high sense. 1t is
| in superficial sense entirely. Here
| and there one finds a woman cour-
| ageous enough to do and live according
| to her own convictions. Then we say
| of her that she is queer The fact
of the matter is that good sense in this
| respect Is SO rare that we confuse
| If for queerness or eccentricity.
THE American woman has wit, clev-
erness. grace, beauty and all that and
in these she excels, but she lacks the
courage to deal honestly with herself.
She means to be honest: no one will
deny that, but she is not If she were,
she would not be following the super
fetal life which she does today. She
would not be doing one half the un-
profitable things. Her house would
not be clogged up with useless bric-a-
brac which occupies her time In super
intending"
Women are certainly burdened to
| death by the demands which cause
them to flock in droves. One woman
isn't unhappy enough when she sits
down to try to puzzle out what Brown
ing was at when he wrote certain lines,
but Immediately she wants to drag all
the other women of her acquaintance
along in the puzzle business. If she
has enough prestige, she drags them
without protest, and they devote nice,
good afternoons. when they might have
had refreshing nap, to wrestling over
the problem of 'The Whatness of the
Is" Women aren't contented with
their own quiet little aristocratic chap
ter of the Daughters of the Revolution,
but they must have a big national Or
ganization whose chief object seems to
be scrapping and where only a half
dozen of the best scrappers can man
age to hold office. year after year. 1t
does not add to their dignity nor real
pniDNn1ant I'm 10 of e,
ing off pretty clothes.
Then they must sew in hocks. There
isn't any penance in a Lenten sewing
society. It's the maddest merIiest kind
of dissipation at times. They must
have classes for Bible study whose eX-
clusiveness is so intense that the sweet
ness of the Word must have been lost
to their taste. They must go in herds
to do charitable work, to dress dolls,
to read the newest novel, to find the
first spring flowers, to learn how to
bring up their children or to fry fish.
The old fair hours of sweet loneliness
are over. The ever-restlessness of the
age is hurryng the peace of self-com-
munion like Il soft white dove chased
by a hawk and there is no more quiet.
no more enjoyment of solitude.
The woman of today has few re-
sources in herself She is so accus-
toned to the everlasting group meth
od'' that she cannot decide for herself
whether to have her new shirt-waist
suit made with one deep circular ruftie
or two and she wastes hours and even
days in trying to get the concensus
of public opinion on the matter.
The average young girl acts as if she
hates herself. In the gentle old days
the young girl OF the household spent
much of her time in her fathers house
busted with her simple studies. her
books or her music. OF course there
was much gaiety, but when she hap
pened TO have q minute alone by her
self, she did not fly to the telephone to
call friend over on rush out in order
to find company. The girl of today is
nervous, restless mortal who does
not want to be alone with her own
thoughts q minute. 1t is often q Won
der that she can endure to lose the rare
pleasure of Il long beautiful day with
table full of poets at her side--or the
best magazines, the best reviews, or
the opportunity to learn new Ian
guage. a little at time
think Mr. Box is decidedly in the
right. The club instinct is a woman
destroyer We do not have the real
club fad in Scranton, but we do have
limitations of it in the countless
devices to take up our time and weak
en- our individuality. 1t used to be said
of woman that she found it hard to
live up to her bric-a-brac. Today her
shelves are so crowded with it that the
slmilitude has formed models in her