Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1914-09-14
THE STRIVINGS
OF ELLEN ADAIR
IN PHILADELPHIA
Being the First of a Series
Detailing the Experiences
of a Real Flesh and Blood
English Girl.

| l have sat here, pen in hand, for hours
here in my shabby lodging with it's drab
walls and tlaring gas jet. its cheap f,irni-
ture and its dreadful air of solitude-and
my heart is so full OF memories that I
can scarce write! All! memories and old
regrets, l will drive YOU away tonight
and be the old light-hearted Ellen Adalr
once more. Away with failure and lonelI-
ness l must win out shall make good;
this Idle dreaming is Of no avail
The rain is dripping on the roof tonight
"A gentle, quiet rain. unlike the wild
downpourings Of this strange. wonderful
country-and the sound OF IL on the roof
takes me back to my little English village
on the Sussex Downs, where life ran in
as gentle courses as the falling rain, and
was young and sheltered. Youth and
hapTness' oh. the sheer music OF the
words Yet there are greater things in
life than these, and I am learning them
now For the old Ellen Adair was child
ish, thoughtiess person, who vegetated in
her quiet English village; and now, she
is learning a harder lesson. and in n new
country, lighting better and worthier
fleht.
1t seems years. instead of bare two
months. since that sunny summer morn
ing when | sailed away from Southamp-
ton dock-with big lump in my throat.
my worldly all in my shabby trunk, so
tucked away in a corner of my shabby
mourning frock. and n desperate deter
,,,iD 20 L., ba nd
wonderful country to which l was going.
What crowded experiences have inter-
vencd since then! and |, Ellen Adair,
an English girl. young and strong. and
ah. dear Heaven, still hopeful am
facing this new world alone. And the
sheer lonesomeness OF this rainy night
Is driving me TO write the story OF my
life-T feel and think like 40, but am
only 2i-and in the old cracked mirror
opposite l see young face, with new,
tired lines around the mouth. But there
is added strength and resolution there.
I must begin my tale in earnest now,
and away with sentiment. In my life
there can be but little room for that.
am n worker, and must cease to dream.
My childhood was a happy one, and, be-
ing happy, was uneventful. / was an only
child, and in spite of much petting re-
mained comparatively unspoiled. How
well do l remember those old happy days
in the English seaside town. My father.
a country doctor, was so busy that /
rarely saw him, but my mother was my
constant companion. and I idolized her.
She was the kindly sharer OF my joys and
OF my sorrows, a real friend and COM
panion.
The first break in my life was at the
age OF 10. | was sent of to boarding
school In London, a quiet, unpretentious,
mi a1al unI al CO..
l was a pupil. But in that sheltered
haven We saw but little OF London life.
Occasional visits 10 the opera were a
wonder and glory--the myriad Slittering
lights of SALISBURY avenue and Picca-
d!!ly, the crowds of beautifully gowned
women and their conventionally garbed
male escorts, the swarming taXis-it was
all so wonderful. The green beauty OF
kensington Gardens or Regent Park
was q favorite haunt for our afternoon
walk, and l shall never forget my first
glimpse of the King and Queen, then
Prince and Princess of Wales, outside
Buckingham Palace. How beautiful she
looked with her golden hair, blue eyes
and delicate complexion 7 fancied that
she smiled at us school girls and We all
loved her.
But a shadow fell on these happy days.
Ny sather, the hard-worked doctor. died
suddenly, bequeathing to my mother and
me q mere pittance. and a little cottage
he owned in the south OF England. in the
heart OF beautiful Sussex. There we took
up our abode. / was barely II then. At
first I found the peaceful village life a
little dull. But l soon grew accustomed
to our quiet existence and mother and /
vegetated happily there. Books. our piano
and long walks on the Sussex downs were
our hobby. oh. the beauty OF the rolling
moOrland, with its clumps OF trees and
tho lazy cattle resting beneath, its hum
m.u- insect life and its beautiful English
flowers. For seven years these things al
most satisfied ne. I say almost" for |
at times vague longing for a wider |
horizon would seize me, a vague longing |
tur 'one crowded hour o: glorious life"
beyond the narrow negative happiness OF
my present quiet existence.
OF men in that Sussex village there were |