Virginia citizen. (Irvington, Va.) 1891-1921, 1910-01-14

NO put That Il rrst- Insttnctively do
women frd their bezk selves In wife,
hood and motherhood.
Deep down in the woman heart Is
the mother instinct and the motbef So
licitude-tbe love for man and
home and a baby.
Watch the Mauds and the Margarets
at their favorite play OF keeping
house" They sing their dollies TO
sleep and tuck them away.ip the min
iature cradles, cook their meals on the
toy stoves and serve them I'm toy
dishes Oh toy tables. all as inteptly
and faithfully as IL IL were not make
believe.
1t is the real homing instinct that
moves them happily. ike young binds
planning the future nest.
Aud pothing less can ell up the wo-
man heart-not wealth. not social dis
tinction. not success in a public Gu
reer nor any other thing.
Woman is built that way.
Every great woman artist has so teS-
titled. Which does Incompatible Mary
Anderson care for the more. her home
or the stage she gladly quilted for her
home? Aud which career does the
great singer Schurnann- Heink love the
better. her stage success or the care of
the big brood OF children at home?
Dear Maud and Margaret.
May they win realization of the
keenest longing of true womanhood-a
husband to love. home to keep, a
baby TO sing luilabies to!
WEX7
This is a pitiful tale of little Jan
Stock, victim of the mine disaster at
Cherry, Ill.
Jan, son of a father killed in the
mines, was aged fourteen. He was
sensitive child who read books be-
yond his years and passionately loved
music.
But Jan was the man of the family
at fourteen.
The morning of the awful fire in the
mines Jan was In bed sick, and the
doctor said he must stay, but he
knew the rent was just due
So the brave little fellow pinched
his thin lips together and went to the
shaft. the miners lamp lighting up bis
pale little face and his poor lunch in
his little tin bucket.
1--WE must not give up, little mother"
he said as he kissed her goodby.
And she?
Leaning against the shaft house that
fateful day, sobbing in her old brown
shawl, the mother walled:
"My God. | kissed him and sent
him to his death: l sent him to die
in that hell hole below there for $1.13."
Motherlike. blaming herself.
And when they got her to her home
in the little shack, while the fiery in
ferno ragged below, poor Barbara Sto-
eek, robbed now of both husband and
son by the Moloch of the mines, said
to Il woman reporter:
Never again shall | be able to draw
full, long breath. Something clutches
me when | look into the face of a
child. j can see llttlf Jan, my baby
boy, lying there in the passage with
his head resting on his arm and on his
dead face the patient, loving smile he
always had for u.s."
The poor woman grew hysterical
and then, half crazed. talked proudly
of how Jan read the big books.
at was the old family coming back
I'm him. Once. intths old country, his
fathers folks were mobiles. or late
years they have been working people.
Jan went to his death smiling, like
many a man of his race before him."
Is 1t not an unutterably sad mys-
terry?
Why should such q noble spirit as
JAMS be blown out by the hellish
flames OF the pit when others, gross,
sordid and nnheroic, are permitted to
quietly burn to their very sockets?
To say there is no. kind Providence
that permits It To be so Is to give
over to blank despair. We are shut up
TO the belief that all mystery has a
meaning.
One thing can be done.
The laws OF Illinois say no boy I'M
der the age Of sixteen'shali be permit
ted to work in or about a mine.
The laws must avenge the death OF
Jan Stock.