The Seattle star. [volume] (Seattle, Wash.) 1899-1947, 1918-05-30
Confessions ofaM1fe

ing the finer clay. we dom, really be-
lieye n word We are saying. II In all
a bit OF fiat,cry. you know" THANK
God. little book. that kind OF lying
flat;cry is going out Of s;yic)
so when ! had n glimmcring tina,
my wife was really a little better
than myself. did not feel a bit
comfortable.
II never knew IL was possible TO
make such n beautiful effect from
such commonplace surroundings and
such everyday articles OF furniture.
For the first time in my life was
able to see beauty outside OF conven.
ton.
Your Jap prints. your bronze
Bhudda. seemed "A part Of the over
whelming tenderness OF II all. There.
that Is the very word--tcnderness-
and wrote IL before I thought
Even the chairs seemed 10 take on
human characteristics. That ugly
old chair that come one gave us. that
just looked money. you had hidden
away In a corner all by itself where
II could look down supcrclllously on
it's poor but much more comfortable
neiEhborS. who did not care whit
for It's scorn.
And you. my wifc--one OF the
things ! hold precious now. when
earth IN slipping quickly away from
me. is the memory OF you as you
were tina, night Nothing had really
come between us. You still held all
the Illusion OF love. For the time
was overwhelmed with the idea OF
your fragrance and sweetness. II
was as tho had opened an ex.
qulsltc box TO find the contents more
beautiful than the outside. and lying
In its wondrous depths an incompar.
able jewel
There. Margie. you never thought
could talk like that. did you?
Neither did I. but somehow I
think. my dear, that the soul OF the
poet IL the soul OF man. Some of us
hide II under layers OF material
things until Il is forgotten and so
dusty that we are ashamed 10 bring
It out. that Is all.
II can see your eyes CLEAN now
as they did that first evening In our
first home. and | can hear you say
Dick. do you know that tonight
would not change places with any
woman In all the land. for / am the
happiest being in all the world. I
have forgotten every one but you
and me. and have no conception OF
anything except that l am yours
your wife
There. I'll wager you have for.
gotten that, Margie. I forgot Il,
much TO my sorrow. at one time in
my life. but. like the everlasting hills.
such memories cannot be east into
the limbo OF forgotten things long
You have been so much to me.
my wife. and | think II all dated. not
from that day at the schoolroom
door. but from that evening In our
first little home. Margic. whatever
else comes into a mans life after he
has married-if he married for love
his wife is always there. She is
the background.
Sounds hard. does II not7 But
after the first flush OF the fever OF
rove ~ over u Npfildn sun tllnpS 10
the idea of being always in the fore
ground--and a man knows that she
has sunk away into the background.
III woman could take men for
what they are. and serenely and
beautifully accept being the back
ground to mans ambitions, "a
mans work, a mans foibles--yes.
even mans little sins--he would
certainly return again and again to
rest and worship
Oh. Dick. Dick even when you are
looking Death in the face you must
still be terrifying in your masculine
selfishness and adorable In your
splendid truth.
81 believe. Margie, that almost cv-
cry man, no matter how many ar
fairs. how many flirtations how
many fleeting loves he has--and few
OF them have none--still want their
wives In the background. ! believe