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New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, February 04, 1905, Image 7

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DINNER DRESS.
Of paie p'.nlc soft satin, trimmed with lac* and rosettes of velvet
MR. HUNTER EXPLAINS.
Children Not Absolutely Breakfast
less, but Underfed.
Thai any one of seventy thousand children may
arrive at school In the morning hungry is true, but
tt is also, fortunately, exceptional," was the state
atst made yesterday by Robert Hunter, who has
bstr. credited with the announcement which flashed
—si the city and was answered by immediate offers
*S tlfl. that seventy thousand children, go breakfast
]*■* daily to New-York City schools.
"My statement concerning seventy thousand
school children," continued Mr. Hunter, "refers sole
ly to those children who are underfed and under
nourished. There is a great difference between
hungry, starving- and breakfastless children and
Children who are underfed and undernourished.
There !s no means of. know]!:;,- how many hungry
cr breakfastfess children wo to school daily in the
c:*y tit New- York. Neither the teachers nor the
' v *rVO«s ctn give us any i-iea. as to the number,
but any one familiar with the lives of the poor
aaf fa ' Jar with the figures of distress in this city
will not Question that this large number of chil
dren are underfed and undernourished. It may be
tfcat they have coffee and bread In the morn
fcg, cr that they spend a penny for food at some
stanij about the school, but they arc. neverthe-
Jew, children who are suffering from lack of proper
c»url»hincnt and are unable, in consequence, to at
ttir th* best results physical or mentally.
"At a meeting of a committee * few days sine*
•feral representatives of the leading charitable
crr«riza.tions in the city considered that my estl
ias.te of underfed children was not unreasonable.
One or two thought that it was probably an under
estimate. Eut to have this whole statement »used
•? If It referred to children actually hungry, starv
tcg or breakfastless Is unfortunate, and gives cur
rency to a seriously erroneous conception. It is
fcsped that the School Board will investigate the
•hole Question of underfeeding, and that It will
Jtrtaps, £s many of the foreign cities have done,
take some provision for dealing with the evil.
"There Is no question that these children are seri
ousiy handicapped at the very beginning of their
i:v«B, and when the underfeeding is chronic it
Bears that -.hey will probably not be able to de
**lcp into men or women who are sufficiently
•^"W.£ physically or mentally, to overcome the
ebetacies which confront them, the gT^atost of
*tich is ti~e poverty in which they tind them
selves.
"The estimate of seventy thousand underfed
•eh:«cl children is, I believe, conservative. It is
**«<:•; upon carefully gathered and supposedly ac
«rate statistics concerning the number of evic
tion* the number of unemployed and the num
ber of persons dependent poll charity in the city
sf ?«r*--YoTk."
DR. ELSIKG'S VIEWS.
A^sr.p the men actively interested 5n charity
*to. from the beginning of thi= discussion, were
ftspost'. to question the truth of such widespread
<«Stltf. as the etatement credited to Mr. Hunter
*MBBM to prove, is Dr. W. T. Elsing. pastor of
tfce j> Wilt Memorial Churrh, at No. 2SO Rivir.g
«i-«. Zt. Elsing has been a city missionary for
***<y-ttree rears working In the congested d : "-
Mga RirroundJiic his cnurcX and seldom, indeed,
•Joei he or his eight regular sssistants find a
Uaiiiy absolutely without food. When hs read of
o* s«v-t thousand breakfast!** ss children he x*
•olrs? to isvextipa-t- fcr himseif. with the result
£« *' present he is giving aid to one family that
mi no fo & a !n the house.
'* be* mv investigation," he f-'An. yestercay
f-.'tmoon, to a Tribune reporter, "with *he children
fTO City Mission Pundsy School. I visited every
•SBrtoent not pas^in? even the Jnfar.t classes.
■*4 SB : . to them. 1 have read in the newspapers
taat thousands of children po to school hungry
♦very morning. If you know of any children in
yviz echool. or in the house or block where you
***. who ere hungry, pi^ast cive me their name*
*~i addr<; • ■ - • -
."7 had in this way a lookout - m'.tt-e of about
«sr burjirefi persojjj, vrtio live in the most con
futed part of New- York, to assist me. but not a
■*£* case of hur.ger was ought to my notice. I
*-«c had a personal interview with the residents
2 the Alfred Corrtr.jc Clark Neighborhood House.
j-tere are tr.roe kindergartens connected with the
«Us«. bot not one of the teachers was able to
!**-■ * «inj instance where a child came to
•-aool in «uc- a hungry condition that It attracted
tuectian. 3 next vUitcd two '■"- '" public school?.
2. wild: there *-■ about f;ve thousand children.
? c * principals informed me that they did not
««•» '.* a single instance of hunger In the schools.
1 i».rr;*r at or.c erhoc', that the majority of the
tT^ T brought half-a loaf of bread to eat during
*» rtc**s.
*. A* ***" as say observation goes." continued Dr.
:t:~~e, "'" '.. r .^rt It no unusual distress smong the
J^ r 5* 1 the lower East Fide this winter. It is
Vj^wy.true that thousands of school children in
•v":"* 0-*.0 -*. through Ignorance, poverty or Ehift
r*P«*. ere not properly nourished, but I do not
"were that tLey are actually bread hungry. Any
TEACH THE CHILDREN
-*. de^doua dentifrice makes the toothbrush
£«Gn «^;.\ SOZODON'T la a fragrant liquid
r* ri penetrating the little crevices of the
««3 It purifies them.
SO2ODONT
TOOTH POWDER
«.« . »
*^»*s the delicate er;arncl, but does not
jZT"^ this It prevents the accumulation of
Jz~f» without fnjarlr.s the enamel, a property
--a ooly in POZODONT.
'■ • FORMS: LIQUID, POV» T I>EE,*PABTEi
attempt made to supply the school children with
wholesome, nourishing food, either through private
chanty or at the expense of the city, ou^ht to be
most carefully considered by oar wisest sociologists.
ors and philanthropists, or more harm than
lay result from these well meant efforts."
THE ARMY STILL FEEDS THEM.
The Salvation Army Is sti'.l carrying on Its work
of glvlnc free coup every mornlt.g- to school chil
dren and fed 550 boys and girls yesterday at its
seven centres.
"We don't know anything aix>ut the statistics of
the number of hungry children," said Colonel Cox
yesterday, "but we saw a need and we have tried
to meet it. If there are only seventy instead of
seventy thousand hungry littio ones, much the
better."
Colonel Cox does rot believe that the army's
distribution of free soup can do anything- but good.
■•Til* tickets are given cut only by our officer?,"
he said, "who ar> Icloufl about it. What harm
can it Jo to put -orae hot poup into an empty
stomach?"
KITCHEN FURNISHINGS.
All Should Be Attractive and in Good
Condition.
The value of attractive kitchen utensils Is not
often appreciated. Housewives give their servants
battered saucepans and tins, and expect them to
keep these spotless and to take pleasure in cook
ing with them. A servant doing kitchen work gen
erally takes interest In It if she has utensils In
good condition to work with. One actually enjoys
washing dishes in a brand new dlshpan.
If the kitchen itself is a neat, picturesque room
with snowy curtains at the windows, neatly oiled
floor, clean, glazed paper on the walls and every
thing comfortable and convenient, almost any ser
vant will feel an aspiration to keep it in that con
dition.
In furnishing a kitchen one may. on the othe
hand, make the mistake of having too many
utensils and too many patented contrivances. The
average servant girl, who is only used to the
simplest and most ordinary utensils at home, will
invariably leave the patented things on the shelf
and use "any common makeshift.
Though the kitchen should be simply furnished,
there Is r.o reason why the things a servant does
use cannot be picturesque and in good condition.
Nowadays there are many charming mixing bowls,
etc.. in blue and white earthenware, that look bet
ter on the shelves than the common ware, and are
often Just as cheap.
It Is wine not to have too much kitchen china
for the servants to use at mealtime. There should.
of course, he a sufficient supply, but if there are
too many to draw from the servants will never
report breakages to tha mistress, and it is said
that some lazy servants will not take the trouble
to wash their "own dishes, hut leave them in some
out of the way corner of the cupboard until the
whole supply is usf-d.
It is hOinetimos asserted that because a servant
girl is a human being then should be pictures,
etc., in the kitchen, a nice rug on the floor and a
screen before the stove or sink Any experienced
housekeeper knows, however, that this i- not prac
tical, and nn sensible servant will be bothered with
things purely ornamental, always in the way and
always collecting dust or grease. A kitchen is
merely a workshop. *•••<■• working hours are over
tli«- average wrvant would rather •■:' or rest else
where, and some place ought to be provided for her.
Where there are several servants they can visit in
the ."servants' dinins room." and they should have
the pleasure of making that as cosey as they wish.
NOTE? FOR THE SICKROOM.
A restless invalid can be .made much more com
fortable if the nurse will pin down the edges of the
undersheet to the under part of the mattress. The
sheet should be stretched tightly across it and
fastened with safety pins.
Keep all medicine bottles out of the. room, or at
least where the invalid cannot see them.
Tea and coffee, where a patient is allowed to have
them, should always be taken Immediately after
they are made.
Food for the tick should be of tKe best quality,
neatly and delicately prepared. Every meal should
be a surprise, and it la a good plan to leave the
patient alone while eating, and never bring him
more than he will probably want.
Of course, every one knows that plenty of
ventilation is necessary, though there should be no
draughts of air directly blowing on the patient.
Each individual disease tmould have a peculiar
diet of its own.
It !a well not to heap much bedclothing over an
Invalid. Down torts b'.°s are desirable, because
they are so light, ami at the same time, so warm.
There are not many things more annoying than to
lie under the weight of heavy blankets and com
forters. It is a good plan to wrap an old baby
blanket 'or sna,wl around the feet to keep them
warm. Another small -blanket to lay against the
back will be appreciated.
"Co food or drinks should be allowed to remain in
the sickroom. They Should be kept in an adjoining
room or on the outside of a window, carefully
covered, and where they may be kept perfectly
C Where one Is Just recovering from a long illness
o- is a'chronio Invalid, it is often a good plan, if
nermls^ible, to move him from one bedroom to
another a week perhaps in one and then a week
in another. This will give variety, for an invalid
tires of ceding the came, furnishings and bric-a
brac Jn the same place day after day and week
after week. It has been suggested that an Invalid
or a" patient who is convalescing, and can be moved,
might sleep in one bedroom and spend the daytime
Never tell horrifying stories or anything un
n£asant to any invalid. This would seem like an
unnecessary injunction, but it is a common thing
done by many well meaning, thoughtless people.
Talk to the patient only about agreeable, cheerful
or uplifting topics. "11: -.-.\v..-' ;
"WHY ATTEND CHURCH?"
Nine leaflets on different phases of the Sabbath
problem have been issued during the last year by
the Woman's National Sabbath Alliance. Among
them are "Why Attend Church?" by Dr. Donald
Sace Mackay. and "Mistakes A^cut the Sabbath,"
sy°nr D J. Burrell. The alliance will make
e&cial' prices where a large number of the
pamphlets is wanted for distribution. Any cne de
siring camples has only to write, Inclosing five cents
'or postage, to „ the Woman's Nadonal -Sabbath
Alliance. Room T<«, Ho. 153 sth-ave, N«w-Yorj£ City,
NEW- YORK DAILY TRIBUNE. SATURDAY. FEBRUARY 4. 1905.
WICKI-D. SILLY INSECTS.
Kate Upson Clark Applies Term to
Women with Wasp Waists.
" won't New-York ever be finished?' a
little boy asked who had been visithyr the city
while the *übway excavations made or.a yawning
chasm after anoth- r.
- "Probably not. i No. more will life. We are always
pulling down and building up. What used to be
essential Is no longer so. and things that used to
bo trifles have become vital. Still, amid the eternal
flux ' there ■ are ■ certain fixed elements', certain es
centials. What are. they?" ;•;
■ Mrs. .Kate TJpson Clark told the . New-York
League of Unitarian Women, which met yesterday
in the Church of the Saviour, Brooklyn, that in
order to find out what are the essentials and what
the non-eseenUaSs of life she had had recourse to
her friends.
"The first frier.d 1 consulted was a clergyman,
and he retailed:
"'A broad charity is the great essential.' Of
course, that was only another way of putting
Drummond'a 'sreatest thing- in life*—
"A clever .ad good woman, when 1 asked her,
said, 'Sincerity,' ar.d she went on: *1 could bear
almost anything from a sincere person, while r.o
number of graces an charms would be tolerable
in one who lacked it."
"Then I remembered that cv- SavsMir denounced
only two sins < xpllcitly, ar.d that lr.sir.cerity, or
hypocrisy, was vne of them.
" 'Pluck" was the answe.- of the third friend,
pluck being only another word for courage, hope.
It's the antiseptic ihni keeps life s<vcet. Many a
life has failed of nobility for lack of it, the truth
being that we all need the perenrial, upsprtnging
force of courage within us.
"A fourth said 'Friend:-,, 1 a fifth VheenV.lnt-rs and
gratitude," a sixth, 'Bread and water and religion.*
As there were several deeply religious persons
among the others whom I hud asked, it seemed
strange that none had laid streps on religion be
fore.
"A cynical friend made this answer: •Well, for
women, the essentials are beauty and good clothes. 1
" 'Oh, come, now!' I protested; "be serious.'
"'I am serious,' ehe retorted. 'Don't all the
women you know prove by their conduct that th^se
are tl c essentials to them? Aren't they willing
to sacrifice their very families for them?'
" 'Honesty and a good digestion,' 'Doing the rtuty
that I!e3 nearest one,' 'Contertmeut'— these were
the essentials of life to others whom I questioned.
■Money and health* were the desiderata cf another,
and 'Unselfishness' was desired by the last person
I asked."
Having finished with her friends* collection of "es
sentials," Mrs. Clark proceeded to give her own
Ideas on the subject, using the figure of a palace
to typify the individual life, ana the component
parts of the structure the essentials of that life.
"Of course, our palace must have a fine, broad
foundation, and without hesitation I should say
that that foundation must be health. No person
can be happy, efficient or agreeable without health.
The persona who are continually aUing, co that
they have to break their engagements and drop
out of everything, might as well fall from down
right Immorality, so far as the dead loss to the
world (although the evil effects would not. of
course, be so great). So much illness Is wilful—
about 75 per cent, I believe. Surely, by the time a
person gets vo be thirty— or at least forty— she
should know what agrees with her and what
doesn't, and be strong enough to take the- one and
decline the other.
"This sounds elementary, but it needs repetition.
Children should be- taught that every action, even
eating, has moral significance.
•'Ol'ten, you hear people say: 'Oh. T'm ail right;
i never have to have the doctor."
"But health Is a great deal mure than merely not
having to have the doctor. Health is something
positive. It meaus a wellbing so abounding that
we feel joy in our work.
"We shall never have a strong, virile race till
our women get over trying to resemble fashion
plates. I,ook at the fashion magazines— just look
at them!" Mrs. Clark spoke in derisive tones and
the women before her rustled consciously.
"Those butterfly figures, cut in two— l thought
they were a joke at first. Just made for people to
laugh at. But I find they're not. Look at the girls
on the street — they're all trying to copy those
wicked, silly little insect*.
"It is curious to see how many of my friends'
'essentials' are comprehended in health. Benevo
lence, for Instance. Isn't every one mc*re kindly
disposed to otm: i for feeling well and b^lr.g well?
You do sometimes meet cross peopii who are in
perfect health, but much of our irritabil ty is due
to poor health.
"I know amiability is commonly associated with
rains, and it is the fashion to speak of amia
ble people with a sort of pitying contempt, as if
they could not help being sweet in disposition,
nature not having given th«>ni much in the way of
mind, and unamlability being 1 a sign, of gei
"But. oh, all you geniuses in my audience, " sad
Mrs. Clark, abandoning- her manuscript a.nd facing
her hearers with a quizzical smile playing over her
face, •won't you try to be amiable?"
Health being the foundation of the palace, the
primary essential of life, the walls, must be built
of convictions, and into the walls must be p':t i 1 ar
windows of hope.
""Let your food be love." said Mrs. Clark. "There
was once a mother whose little boy h.ul to say a
text in Sunday school, so ehe taught him to say, 'I
am the Li>?h: of the world."
"She had him repeat it again and again, till sh«
was sure he would make no mistake. When he was
called upon, he stepped out on the platform and
said. 'My mother is the light of the world." In
more than one way the mother is the light of love
in the home. She ?cts the pattern of love.
"And we must heat our palace wiih enthusiasm
and inakr- the roof of religion." said Mrs. Clark, in
conclusion. "Our palace may be equlpi ed with all
the virtues, but If there is no fire under the en
gines the machinery won't stir. We not only need
to believe in purity and honesty, but to believe in
them pass.onateiy. enthusiastically."
HER 104 TH BIRTHDAY.
Miss Rachel, Martense Too 111 to Celebrate
It Yesterday.
The birthday reception which Miss Rachel Mar
tense, of No. 38 Linden-rive., Brooklyn, always
gives on February 3. was omitted yesterday, and
Miss Martense did not even know that it was her
birthday. Struggling with an attack of pneu
monia at the great age of 104 years, she was un
able, to leave, her bed, and lay in a semi-conscious
condition all day. Notes of congratulation and
flowers were continually arriving, but she was not
told anything about them, and when the doctor
mentioned to her in the morning that it -was her
birthday, she did not seem to understand. Yet
such is the vitality of this remarkable old woman
that her family does not despair of her recovery.
She had a very good day. they said, end they be
lieve that she may live to see still another birth
day.
Miss Martense has been ill for the list month and
a half in consequence of a cold contracted about
the middle of December, and her being alive to-day
is little short of a miracle. During- the holiday sea
son she had sunk so low that all hope of her recov
ery was abandoned. She was unable to take nour
ishment, and was quite "nconsclous, but she rallied
in a most surprising wsyi and has been improving
ever since. A few call were allowed Just to see
her yesterday afternoon, and were surprised to see
how well she looked.
Miss Martens* does not look her age within
twenty or thirty years. Her complexion is fresh
and clear and remarkably free from lilies, and her
hair, though snow white, is still abundant. Her
hearing is still good, but her eyesight has failed
considerably. Previous to her present illness she
took a keen interest in the events of the day, and
always wanted to have the newspapers read to her.
She has not been able to walk for fourteen years,
but that is the result of an accident sustained when
she was ninety.
This remarkable vitality is attributed by the fam
ily of the centenarian chiefly to the stock from
which she came
"Fresh air and regular habits will do something."
said her nephew, Martence Story, yesterday, "but
you must have the, ancestors."
"And the ancestors of Mrs. Martense. it appears.
were tremendously long-lived people, though there
is no record of any having lived to be 19*. One of
her Filter's lived to be ninety, and her mother died
at eighty-five.
Combined with the influence of these ancestors
was a passion for gardening. Miss Martense has
always Ic-ved pictures and flowers, and she spent a
great deal of time painting pictures and grow
ing flowers. She worked in her garden until she
was ninety, and when 'he could no longer stoop
over her borders, she used to sit on a box and
cultivate them. Still another cause assigned for
her longevity is a good digestion, shown by the
fact that she was able to 'at a 1-i-^e dish of ice
cream the other day and called for more.
Miss Martens* was born in 1801. and has lived a.i
her life in the neighborhood of her present home.
She attended the old Erasmus Hall School. n::d
her nephew. Joseph Story, with whom she liven,
possesses a curious relic of those days in the form
of a certificate of merit, dated April 2. IS!". It is
signed by the Rev. A. Neal. and reads:
"This certifies that Rachel Martense. by close
application and attention, h^s for six wfrt-ks ex
celled her clnss. and receives this as a testimonial
of the esteem and approbation of Her t « s <- n '~ i - __
No one seems to know why Miss Martense ne\er
married. An early portrait shows that she was a
most attractive young woman, and familj JJ^V,
tion bears witness that *be had "plenty of beaux,
but why she did not accent any of those suitor*
history does not state. ...
GOOD CHEEK.
Rave you hail a. kindness shown
Pans It on.
'Tvu not given for you »ion« —
Pass it on.
Let It travel down the years.
Iy»t tt wipe another* tears.
Till in heaven the ! deed appemra.
Pass it on.
When night comes, list thy deeds; make plain the
jray
"Twixt heaven and thee: block It not with delays;
But perfect all before thou sleep'st; then say
There's one sun more strung on my bead of days.
What's rood, score up for joy; the bad wed
scanned
Wash off with tears, and gel thy Master's hand. ,
. —(Henry Y'aughan, in "Rules and Lessons.**
MONEY RECEIVED.
"Sunshine Friends" have contributed 423. to be
used lor special good cheer work; -A Friend" in
Bosto'i. ho does not wish her name used, has
sent her check for $10, to be forwarded to the
woman in Kansas who la supporting a mother
with cancer; L. M.. of Btaten Island, sends $3. for
the same purpose: Mrs. Belden. of Ohio. $2. to pay
postage on sunshine contributed by her. and Mrs.
M. B. H.. $1, for the coal fund. Mis? Anna 8. >.«
borne contributes stamps for postage.
SUNSHINE DUES.
One now member of the T. B. B. offers to give
Si a month as her dues to the general society, and
another will give S3 a year. The office depends on
oranch and individual duos to pay the expressage
and postal expenditures in distributing cheer. AH
special Rifts are expended entirely for the purposes
designated by the donors.
WANTS.
A blind Invai.'d asks for a couch caver and a, boy
of nine years needs an overcoat badly.
MUSIC BOOKS.
Miss Johnson, of Trenton. X. J., has a series of
education music books that she would like to civ«
away, also an old book entitled "Songs of Z!on."
• . J* IWiT 'l K/W^/TY
The fourth story of an entirely novel series. A
mother with s.x daughters tells the story of the
life of each one— their bnby trials, their adventures
as girls, their love affairs, etc. The stcry of Hetty
Is now told.
IV.— HETTY.
Tee— but mother doesn't understand. She Is old
fashioned, and such a womanly woman."
The words broke on my ears in the voice of my
fourth daughttr. who was at that time between
fifteen and sixteen. The schoolroom door was ajar,
Hetty's voice, clear and a trifle impatient, floated
out to me as I stood, arrested by surprise, in the
passage.
Old-fashioned! Dear, dear me. why I was still
In my thirties. I looked upon myself as quite an
up-to-date sort of person, and I did not feel in the
least bit old-fashioned or passS. I was often In
clined to pinch myself to make myself believe that
I was really the mother of nearly grown-up daugh
ters, for I still felt as young as ever, and it seemed
as if it were, after all, only yesterday that Dick and
I walked across a certain gorse covered common in
springtime, and he said to me. in that quick, boy
ish way that covered nervous tremors:
"I say, darling, do you think you could marry
me?"
What I answered to that abrupt quest'an thl?
series of stories makes obvious, but I wish to make
it plain that I really felt very little older than on
that afternoon nearly twenty years before, and it
was quit© a Bhock to me to hear Hetty call me
old-fashioned. And also such a womanly woman.
"Bless my soul," I thought, "what is the child
talking about or driving at?" and I chuckled a
little when I told Dick the story in the evening,
though at Ue Bams time I siehed as T realized for
the millionth time what difficult creatures girls
w-ere to comprehend, or, as our gardener used to
say, "to get up sides with," and how many stum
bling blocks lay In the path of a mother of six
daughters.
Dick laughed when I asked him what line he ad
vised me to take with Hetty— laughed and said that,
being a woman myself I was, naturally the best
Judge of what girls were made of. and should be
easily able to bring Hetty to her senses.
From the first Dick had been a dear about what
he called "my province" In the househoM. He was
not one of those men who wish to put their fingers
into every corner of the domestic pie, and he al
ways said that I knew a great deal better than he
did what It was best to do with children, and
therefore he would not Interfere with their manage
ment unless ' specifically asked for his interference.
The result of this wisdom on his part was that he
and his srlrls were on delightful terms of bon
camaraderie, and he was not looked upon as a dis
agreeabl? final court of appeal and puni<her, as is
so often the lot of unhappy fathers
But it was all very well for the old darling to
say that I must necessarily understand the work
ings of a girl's mind, because I was a woman. That
conclusion does not in the least follow. I know
the workings of one girl's mind, my own. and I
had once flattered myself that my daughter! would
be faithful little copies of me. But they were not;
their minds worked In utterly different ways, and I
had found that a mother must make a study of her
children just as thoroughly and seriously as she
makes any other study, if she wants to know her
subject
Perhaps, for their pood and that of posterity, an
even more comprehensive study would be advan
taeeou?.
Hetty was a frank and outspoken person. -.Ith
many of the characterisi'cs of a boy md I resolved
to go straight to the ro<>t of the matter with her
Next morning therefore, when fter breakfast
she came to my tiny Pitting room to fetch some
book she ■" : "" I '" take to school with her, I said
quietly:
"Het, dear, I like to he a good chum with my
girls; will you tell me why you think I am old
fashioned and overvromanly""
She threw back h r bright mane of ha!r. and the
color ran over her dear, freckled face.
"Did you hear, mummy?" she said, a note of re
gret ii her voice; "of course, I didn't mean to say
anything to hurt you." she added remorsefully.
I did not smile, though the child's almost ma
ternal fear of having hurt my feelings was really
very funny.
•'I happened to overhear what you sad to the
others,"' I answered: "but It didn't hurt me, dear. I
simply want to thresh l! out with you. What makes
you think a womanly woman a poor sort of a
creature?"
She looked at me frankly OB( of her big brown
eyes.
"You see mummy, it's such a silly, petty sort of
thing sitting at needlework, and always having to
order dinner every day, and doing all the regular,
tiresome woman sort of things. It was because
you said I couldn't so and play hockey with the
bojs that rr.».ds ir.e think of it." she ended desprr-
I smiled then I really coukl not help it. Mur
der will out. and I must confers that Hetty was
a most outraged is tomboy. From her earliest
babyhood she had preferred hoys to girl*, and boys
games and occupations •• the tamer amusements
of her own sex: and that not in any coquettish and
foolish spirit but simply because she was simply
at heart three part* a boy.
Her grave request to he allowed to go and play
hockey on the public green near our own house
with some of our boy neighbors had met with a
decided refusal from me and 1 pointed out that
he was growing too old to rush and scramble and.
Jostle with boys, ard must be content now to p!ay
cernes with those of her own sex _;
"Hetty my dear," I said, after the lor.s use
that succeeded her last remark, "you are going to
be a woman— from choice, but of necessity.
"Wouldn't It perhaps be more rational -to decide
to make the best of a bad job?" ,_„,., .
"But I don't see," said th* child. why the
weman should have to do all the stupid, stay-at
home dull kind of things. Why can't a woman
so out nnd kr.ock about in the • orld like a man.
<ust ;is I Wiint to go and rl:*:* hookey with the
bOVE?" • ,■
OU! eternal querjion of t!.e modern woman: now
liad you evolved yourself In my Hetty's breast:
Dick -md I were such sober, matter of fact sort
of people, without big yearnings or strenuous
thoughts, only anxious to make the best use of our
little span of existence, and with simple, straight
forward ideas of life and its duties. Hetty had.
Any member desiring these books win please ••- '
address to the offlce. •'..< i
SHARED HER SUNSHINE.
Miss Komomiskl writes that she received the
pretty shells sent to her from the contribution of
the Bahama Islands and . distributed them among ,
some of the patients at the sanatorium, and so |
gave them Sunshine pleasure. She adds: "As I
meet so many people here. I learn of the vast
airount of good accomplished by the T. S. S. The
magnitude of it can never be told, and it continues ;
to increase."
NEW MEMBERS.
The nam*i> of the following members In ten States j
and the Uistriet of Columbia have been added to j
the general enrolment bonk of the T. S. S. : Mr«. |
J. C Kellogg Clara H. Keller. Miss Frank Birch, j
Mrs. Sarah M. Bnrbour. Mr*. Katherlne S. Hayes.
Mrs. A. B. « Twine. Mrs. H. W. Sackett. Mrs. M. I
Welden. Mrs W. Woodruff. Miss M. B. Sheridan, j
Mrs. J. J. Washburn. L. Thompson. George H. rat- ;
lin. Mrs. W. Peterson. A. 5. Stagier. R. Swift. Mrs. ,
C. W. Scranton. Miss Ch«r!otte D Blgelow. Miss I. }
Busey. MTs. J. F Leslie. Miss Mary E. Golden.
Miss Hazel Keough. Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Kimmel. ;
Miss Ruth I. Davis. Miss Allen* M. Tuttie. Helen \
Wright. Mrs. M K. Potter. Mrs. C. Cornell Mrs. I
G. S. vans. Mrs. J. Braithwaite. Mrs. A. rotter. '
Mrs. •;. H. Robinson. Mrs. Edward King. Mrs. :
Lupenia R. Lee. J. P. Juhe. Herbert Xottage. Mrs
J. M. D.. Mrs. F. <*. Simpson. Miss Eleano: U
Roberta. Annie S. Osborne. Miss William Mlldner. :
Miss Margaret J. Santos. Mrs. Norman S. Brum'.ey. j
Helen Price. Mary C. P. Gray. Miss Emily D. Je.T. :
Mr- R. 8. Harres and Mrs. S. J. Klr.gsl* y.
• ■ONTRIBI'TIONS
' Mrs. I • '.■•'; of Akron. >'-■•. has sent her usual j
liberal contribution or excellent sunshine for dis- ;
tribution— clothing, trimmed hats, nv.iffler. material
lo make up, unfinished fancy work, bedroom shoes.
fine wools, etc. Also many short stone*, all ar- .
r;m«*e<3 tO mail. Som» of these will go to Miss j
Adams, In Alaska, who needs just this kind of sun
shine to brighten the dark days that are now being :
■»nrlured in that section. Mrs. Barnes, of Man- >
hattnn. has also contributed some warm flannel |
skirts, pocketbooks and much fine reading matter: !
Mrs R. Bowdish. of Brooklyn, four new flannel
skirts, for children: Mrs. Thomas Nicholson, of .
Jersey City five pairs of knitted slumber socks;
Mrs. and Miss Wells, of Long Island, valentines:
Mrs. F.. of New-Jersey, men's clothing: Mrs. J. B.
—ar.o. clothing, furs, etc.. and Mrs. S. J. Kings!*; .
a book of pcems.
"I b"l!eve in havln' a good time when you start
out to have it. If you git knocked out of one plan, ;
you want to git yourself another right quick, before ;
your sperrits has a chance to fall. —(Alice Hegan >
Kice, In • Lovey Mary."
JIM *
certainly not imbibed her revolutionary theories
from me or from her father; the spirit of the age
must have entered into her on Its own account, and
with no assistance from us.
"I think," she went on, before I had recovered
breath enough to speak, "that it's so absurd that
women should uave all the horrid dull things to
do. while the men do the jolly ones. It's Just like
me having to stay at home to do needlework while
the boys go out and play hockey." she ended, vin
dictively.
"Poor little girl." I said, softly, a great pity for
my rebellious little daughter welling up in my
heart, with a sudden understanding of the. to m*.
hitherto repugnant attitude of new womanhood.
In a flash I seemed to see it all. the indignant re
coil from dull, womanly things; the angry protest
against the limitations nature has set to woman
hood: the passionate questioning of man's rights
to the best, while woman takes the second place. I
had never even understood the position before,
much less sympathized with it. Now 1 all at once
saw it clearly, through my little daughter's eyes.
"Hetty, darling." I said, drawing the child closer
to me, and determined at any cost to meet her on
friendly equal ground, and not as an elder speaking
down to her from some faraway heights, *'l don t
feel competent to explain nature's arrangements
for women, and I am as Ignorant about their why
and wherefore as you are. The only thing I can
see is that we women have fences set around us
which we are powerless to climb over, and when I
really know it is Impossible for me to climb a fence
I try to make myself as contented as I can on my
side of it. I don't dispute your point that a woman's
life is duller and less varied than a man's."
"It is utterly rotten." Hetty murmured, aggres
sively.
"Well, let us for th» sake of argument say it la
'utterly rotten," " I replied, my eyes twinkling;
"though I am inclined to believe it has compensa
tions. Still, even if it is a rotten form of existence.
while the world remains as at present constituted
we can't pet rid of our wom?nhood. and therefore
my own theory is thAt we had better make the
best of it. and at any rate be as perfect women as
possible. What I mean is that it is better to perfect
ourselves on womanly lines, instead of trying to be
manly and failing utterly:"
Hetty looked doubtful.
'I mustn't keep you now. dear." I added, with a
glance at the clock, "and unpunctuality is so truly
a womanly tailing that I don't think you wish to
be guilty of It!"
The child laughed then: she had a fair sense of
humor, and before sh» flew off to school she flung
her arms impetuously round my neck and kissed
me — a most unusual proceeding on the part of this
tomboy daughter.
"You understand better than I thought you
would," she said, heartily. "Some mothers would
just snub their daughters, and not talk things out
with them. I believe y-.u're really i more . like a
chum than a mother." she added, looking at me
with her head on one side, and I appreciated that
remark almost mere than any other my children
ever mad«» to me. I had tried so hard, not only to
win their confidence, but to keep it; to look at
things from their point of view; to keep myself In
touch with the aspect of things as seen by the eyes
of the rising generation. I was proud of being
called "chum" by Hetty.
When Dick ar.d I talked over the incident that
night (we always talked about the girls and their
characters and ways) he laughed first, and then
said:
"Ask Raymond to spend part of his vacation
wi:ii that will do the trick. "
Dick's advice was invariably terse and slangy,
bnt It was usually worth following.
Raymond was a young and distant cousin, a nice.
capable, clever boy of twenty or thereabouts, doing
well at Oxford, both at work and games, who was
looked upon by my daughters as an elder brother.
fur they had no brothers of their own. It was two
years since Raymond had stayed ith us, owing to
his having spent his vacations on the Continent,
and, although I did not quite see all the Inward
ness of Dick's saee counsel. I felt that he had some
excellent reason for giving It, and forthwith wrote
to Raymond, asking him to come to us in June.
He. cordially accepted my invitation, and Hetty
was supremely delighted at the prospect of seeing
her oltl comrade again.
"Ray used to be simply perfect at cricket." Hetty
exclaimed, enthusiastically. "I wonder" Then
she broke off suddenly and looked at me.
"But. of course, you don't like me to play with
the boys now. do you" 1 she ended, sadly.
'■I am afraid not. dear." I answered, with a firm
ness that cost me an effort, because I could not
bear tc> s»-e her bright face clouded over; "perhaps
you will rind some other way of amusing Ray."
"Perhaps " she answered, dolefully.
Raymond arrived on a heavenly afternoon in early
summer and I was alone to greet him. Hetty hay- ;
Ing gone out on a botanizing expedition with some j
of her school fr|e ; irt«>. i »is charmed with ma |
cousin. Though h« had frown Into manhood c»nc»
we la c t met. he was still as frank and simple as in
his 'schooldays; his gray eyes were clear and
bright and his whole bearing was that of a fceal'hv.
vigorous young Englishman, clean of body and soul,
holding a hiirh ideal of manhood, and with no non- '■
sense about him! -\ . -V '
•\V«> were "fttlng under the beech tree on the lawn,
cbattln* about his work and pursuits, when a fly
ing figure became visible far down the earden. and
two minutes jaw Hett3 loomed large before us—
Hetty, flushed dishevelled, pan'irg. with her fro-k
torn out from the gathers. h*r hat battered in. and
a gf neral impression of muddiness ail over her
"Mummy." she began breathlessly, then stopped
dead, as Raymond drew his long length from the
crasi and rose to his feet.
Lifting his cap frcm his curly hair, he held out
a hand to Betty, with a smile that was roll of
mischief.
"Hullo Hetty." he said, when her excessively
rrubby paw lay In his. "you look rather dllap'
dated,"" and 'us eyes ran over her with a quizzical
exnrrmton ir. ill r depths t>»at made. Hetty sauirm.
Her color -•"-d. hoc tried to pas* back hrr
tangled hair, and minjtled shame and defiance were
in the one lightning glance the shot at him.
"Well: I couldn't help it. I've bf*n chivvying:
about the woods." she said, with <=ome heat.
Raymond's eyebrows went up. oh! ever fo slirhrly.
"I " see." be «aid dryly, hi* eyes again running
->ver her from head to foot; "shall I hand you tour
tea now. or are you going to have a wash and
brush up frstT'
The words were quit courteously spoken, but I
felt they were scathlnc. and so did Hetty. She
opened h*r lips to speak but no sound cam* from
them, and she turned away abruptly and rushed
Into the hou*3 without utte<-I-~ i syllable.
"She is rather a tomboy Mill." I said, looking up
denrecatlntrly into Raymond'? amused face.
"My goodness, she is! What a Jolly pity, though,
isn't It?" he added, after a moment's pause. Im
mediately changing the subject and beginning a dis
cussion upon land?cape painting.
Hetty did not reappear until dinner time. wh»n.
to my unbounded astonishment, she walked intu
the drawine room dressed in the * -ft white muslin
usually kept for state ocea'lons, and looking most
!_..; seulately tidy. But there was a mutinous
i">-'.c-i in her brown <^>>-6. and a certain set ex
j'.cssion about her mouth which I had learned to
know, and I watched her treatment of Raymond
with secret and intense amusement.
Bhe was very distant to him at drst, but tills
position soon became untenable, because nobody
could continue to be distant to any one so sunny
and frank as he was. During dinner ah* thawed,
somewhat, and waxed entnuaia?tic over an account
her cousin was giving Dick of a footoaU match.
I should love to play football." she *»cl*li—H.
"and I know I could play, too; none of tee hoy*
who play hockey on th- green ar* really a* good
as I am.'*
"'You don't play hockey with the boys on th*
green?" Raymond's voice expressed inde*cztbal>>«
things and Hetty's fac« trrew rosy,
'•'Aeil— why not?" she said.
"Because hockey isn't a game for girls and hoy*
to play together. " Raymond answered. "I do bar
manly garner for girls who have begun to grow up.'"
Hetty lauphed a small, high laugh of mutiny.
but Raymond paid no more attention to her. ar-J
turneo to spt'aK to m- Instead. Hetty was very
silent throughout the meal, nut I saw her now
and again glance furtively at h«r cousin's face, aad
an odd look b*gan to dawn m her eyes, whether of
<"npitulaticr err*--r r*--- defiance, i could not Quits
decide.
The same exrrrssion looked out of them th»
next morning, b*;.» ilayznond either d!d r.ot observe
it. or preferred :o Ignor* it. and treated her la £■
rranK. brother!;/ fasnioa. yet with the shade cZ
deterer.c* due to a nearly grown-up girl. 1 could
see thflt the was very n;u.n imprts»t<i when ho
rose to <ip»-n thr door for her as she left the room.
and that ?he listened to his words cf wisdom wit..
an attention s.ie was r.ot la the habit of bestowing
on the words cf an rider.
"I can't stand untidy girls," th« words tn Kay
mond ■ voice floated into me library window iron*
the ternire. next monnns; "wny. your shoe laces
are both until L*-t rr.e to them up for you." X
pe?j>*<3 out. and thertr rioud Keity looking down.
wit.i crim*on face, on Raymond's bent head, while
he fastened her rebellious laces for her.
"Women ought always to look Jolly neat.** h*
went on when he was on his tTt «sea;r; "it's all
very well for beys to be grubby and untidy; taey'ra
little asses, and don't know better. It's hate
ful for Kirls t'» have cilrty hands ana untidy hair."
Hetty's hands wer? suddenly. I might almost
sny. automatically, thrust behind her back; sSa
kept her eyes b^nt on the gravel, which aha was
shuffling to and fro with her feet.
"I say. you know," Raymond w»nt on In apolo
getic tones, "you mustn t mind if i say trur.gs
ttraicht our. You haven't got a brother, don't you
-••■. so I have to do Instead. A.i v there ire lots of
little things brothers can tell a girl. You tout
mind, will you?"
"I— don't know." Hetty said obstinately; "I— don't
see what business it is of Then her i rural
sweet temper reasserted itself, and she looked \H>
at him with a smile.
"All riKht." she said: "you can say what you
like. All the same, I thinks II jolly rouen having to
be a woman."
"On: Hetty, you don't think that really, do youT*
Raymond's voice sounded quite hurt; "the world
wouiti be a jolly horrid sort of place without wom
en. . I like women to be women, not a beastly sort
of imitation men. Besides, you co-r^'t help being 1
a woman, anyhow." he ended philosophically, viut
a chuckle. .
"I don't see why we can't do the same things
you do," Hetty said, but she saia it witb. hesita
tion.
"Oh! I can't put it Into words." Raymond an
swered; "but. you see. you're made different. Girla
who ape a man and want to }oin. men's games, and
wear men's clothes, and talk men's slang, ancl
play the bally goat all round axe silly sort of Jug
gins. I think."
A fit of laughter Induced by the conclusion of th»
sermon sent me away from the window, but I ob
served that Hetty came Into luncheon that day.
looking spick and span from head to foot, and w.t.-i
Immaculate hands.
Raymond and she took many walks together, and
she no longer came home looking like a combined
rag bag and scarecrow. I fancy she was not al
lowed by her new mentor to scramble through
hedges cr wade streams as aforetime, and she no
longer breathed a word about playing hockey on
the green.
"The trick seems to work," Dick said to ma ona
night; "I thought Hetty wanted a bit of proper
pride knocked into her by a man of her own gen
eration."
"Oh! that was the trick, was It?" I said; "it
seems to be working."
Only after Raymond left as did I discover that
it actually had worked.
Hetty was sitting silently by my 6ide on the ter
race watching the sunset across the meadow*,
when she suddenly turned to me and said impul
sively:
"Mummy— l don't think I do want to do man's
things after all. 1 believe I'll just try to put uj>
with the limitations, and atop my side of the fence.
and try to turn into a womanly woman."
From that day forward sne did try to get tha
better of her tomboy ways. and. though at first I
believe it was a real struggle to her. - M suc
ceeded at last.
I cannot pretend that she ever really liked Co
mestic duties, or needlework, or any of the other
things which are supposed to constitute a woman's
special sphere. But she set herself to learn them
ail with patience and perseverance truly adaiirablo
in so young a girl, and she began to take a prid**
in her personal appearance, and an interest in hep
clothes, for which I fervently blessed Raymond a=d
hie sermons.
Sometimes I wondered— mothers t.-: 11— whether
the friendship between them would in years to
come ripen into pomething deeper, for the cousin
ship was only a distant one. and I teiiove :a lov©
that began In friendship. But the thought faded
from my mind when Raymond went to -.ada to
a ranch, and we did not see turn a^ain before h« left
England.
Hetty grew up Into a tail, vigorous girl— cot
pretty, but with a fresh, fair face ajitl sunny hair.
and with a frank, sunny disposition to —arch.
that endeared her to everybody. Her boyish pro-
I clivities had toned down into an intense lov« of
open air life and occupation, and Dick was able
to afford to give her the training for wheh, her
soul hankered. She went to a college where girls
are trained in gardeniny and agricultural work.
and very capable she proved In h<-r profession; so
much so. that at the end of her two years sha
waa offered an excellent post— and at that juncture
of her life Raymond r^me home.
He arrived quite ur> xpectediy at our hcase. I
was sitting In our liu!^ warden, and Hetty, by
way of spending ■ useful holiday, was grubbing in
one of the beds! She looked very trim ar.d neat in
the dark blue linen gown sh« wore tor gardening.
with a big blue pinafore of the same material that
somehow made her face look fairer and her hair
more bright.
"Hullo. Hetty." Raymcr.<l exclaimed, seeing her
back only because she had r.ot heard .m an
nounced. "I had no idea gardeners Why-
Hetty:"
His sentence ended In a. sort of amazement, as
she turned and faced him. a flash of color ta her
cheeks, her eyes full of a demure welcome.
"You were going to say you had no idea garden
ers could be tidy, weren't you?" she said mischiev
ously, a mocking smile on her lips; "meaning that
you didn't know I could be tidy! Oh: I haven't for
gotten your lectures to me. Perhaps I haven't
forgiven them, either," she added, with a little
laugh.
In the days that followed. It was really very
funny to see the reversal of positions that occurred
between them. Raymond was no longer the men
tor, the teacher, the guide. Hetty had learned her
lesson from him seven years ago. but now sh*
very quietly, but quite firmly, put him into an
other place. At the end of three week* he was
the child's slave, and before six weeks had gone
by, he came to me and asked very humbly whether
I thought Hetty would ever listen to him if he
asked her to go back to Canada with him.
"Try." I answered succinctly; "she is not i tom
boy now. you know. Raymond."
"Tomboy." he answered, quite 'nrtisnar.tly: **sh«
Is just as womanly as can be, ani yet she Is so
frank and natural— not a scrap mawkish or namby
pamby!"
"I shall make quits a good fanner's wife.™ sh«
said; "I just love outdoor things, but I can look
after a house, too. You made me see that there
was something worth living for on the woman's
side of the fence, you know, and now T don't a
bit want to climb over It— l would rather stay
always on my own — (Lady's Home Magazine.
XHS ROGERS BREAKS DOWN AT LAST
Much Affected When Death Warrant and
Governor's Reprieve Are Read.
Windsor. Vt Feb. 3.— Mrs. Mary X. Rogers, con
victed of the murder of her husband, Marcus
Rogers, sentenced by the court to die by hanging
to-day, but reprieved until June 2 ty the Governor
of Vermont, broke down for the first time since her
arrest when she heard read the death warrant and
then the reprieve granted yesterday bj» Governor
Bell. When.arrested. wise* convicted of the mur
der, and ov^ when sentenced to die on the gat
lows, the woman failed to display any emotion.
Yesterday, when she received the first r.ews of the
reprieve, she was apparently indifferent, but as
th* Sheriff to-day finished the reading of the docu
ment which gave her at least four months more of
life, her eyes filled with t-*ars. and sh» *- 19 so over
come by emotion that she was unable to speak.
With the- formal, reading of th* official papers by
High Sheriff H. H. Peck, tft-day. the Rogers caJ*
Is ended for the present. Attorneys for the woman
will bring the petition for a r.ew trial on the ground
of newly discovered evidence before th* Supreme
Court In May. If a new trial is not granted. It is.
expected that the death penalty *i!! be Inflicted on
the expiration of the reprieve, Fridar. June 2. I*>*
•.V/iV.'.ViV.Vi'iWiViVAViViVAW
£ Looking for a jj
| Furnished Room? ;
■I See THE NEW-YORK TRIB- 5
J« I'NE S copious and up to date 5
"■ Register of desirable rooms, with J«
"■ and without board, at the uptown %
J« office, No. 1,36 1 Broadway, be- '• .
£ tween Thirty-sixth and Thirty- jj
■!! seventh streets. - ■»
j: FREE OP CHARGE TO |
:i TRIBUNE READERS. J
•: >
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7

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