The Birmingham age-herald. [volume], March 23, 1913, Image 37

About The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950

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DOLLY HEARS OF REAL LOVE “LIKE CATHEDRAL
_MUSIC EASTER MORN"—A STORYETTE^—-By DoJ]y Dahymple
•■The best and the worst of this Is
That neither Is most to blame;
If she's forgotten your kisses.
And you've forgoten her name."
Hetty poked the leafy mold with the
•nd of her chiffon parasol and yawned.
"Swinburne expresses some things —
sometimes," she said, "and to my mind
the casual lover finds in his verses all
the justification he wants for any spring
love—”
"Spring love," Billy Bunting said In
B hurt tone, "I wouldn't have told you—"
"Certainly," the girl anticipated, "but
Wince you have made me the melancholy
confession, we might as well thresh the
Blatter out, sensibly.”
“But," he demurred, "I only told you
because in the position—"
"Of the detached third—a disinterested
■fcnlooker," Betty supplemented, "you
•were sure I might be able to help you."
I He nodded.
j "Something like that," he assented.
"You’re In love wiwi A.nne, and you're
kicking yourself, mentally, because you
know you haven’t played fair with Nancy
►-whom you thought at one time you
loved. You gave her every reason to be
lieve that she was the whole world to
(rou. You know that?"
"Well," he drawled, "maybe I did—
(What of It?"
Betty's laughter tinkled on the clear
klr.
She caressed a bunch of lovely Easter
flowers and held them closely to her
heart.
"You poor, dear, deluded man, she
glghed wistfully. “Nancy’s no worse off,
to .be sure, without you, for she's forgot
ten your kisses, and—’’
-I didn't say I'd ever kissed her,’’ Billy
Hunting interrupted quickly.
"Of course not," said Betty sweetly.
•■Certainly you haven’t kissed her. They
twere only dream kisses, but the point
% am trying to reason with you about Is
♦his: There's no cause for you to re
proach yourself—In, well—In March—for
the state of your heart last November.
If Anne has drifted into your affections,
■with this spring's apple blossoms and
Jonquils, and the first arbutus, take the
Joy the moment sends you; love Anne
while her fascination lasts, but don't
gpoll today by corroding memories of yes
tfiday—”
"They— er—er—weren't exactly, er—er,”
fie apologized.
-Corroding,'' supplemented Betty. "Cer
tainly. I know they weren't. I used the
word hoping you would correct me.
Kancy was sweet.”
"I can't altogether forget," he was be
ginning again.
"Why try?” asked Betty. "Why strain
your poor little fickle heart to do any
thing but love Anne? Nancy was yes
terday's rose: Anne blossoms today;
and—"
“Took here. Betty.” Billy Bunting In
terposed, growing very serious, "you are
making a joke out of what might be a
tragedy. You've quoted the Swinburne
* tuff when It doesn’t express the situa
tion at all. I am reproached enough.
I feel like a hound-pup, because for a
time I did weigh heavy In my mind. I
held her in my heart. I dreamed about
her—day and night—and I'm not sure
that 1 didn't love her.”
"Of course you aren't," said Betty,
knowingly. "You are a generous man.
even to your own shortcomings. But
what if you did love Nancy yesterday?
Hon love Anne today.”
“A woman ran t understand, said tne
man, with a tone of finality.
“Only a woman ran understand,” con
tradicted Betty. “You are dangerously
fascinating to women. I know that, and
1 m one of your keenest critics.”
He winced under her cool words, but
the girl’s face gave no indication that
her meaning lay deeper than the sur
face.
“You know perfectly well that I was
crazy about Nancy last fall,” he said
presently. “You are my closest and mpst
confidential friend and have been since
!«\e were kiddies. I told you everything.”
“You were fond of her; 1 knew that,”
the girl said understanding^.
"We weren't engaged or—or—anything
like that,’’ he said, "but er—er—”
"I understand," Betty said sympathetic
ally, "but If that's the case, why re
proach yourself?"
"Well—Anne somehow just sort of came
along," Billy Bunting continued in an
apologetic tone, "and she Just somehow
fcowled me over. It wasn't anything that
PCanry had said or done, but still at the
same time, I fell way down In my measly
heart that I owe Nancy some sort of an
explanation. A man can't ask a man such
a thing, but 1 was just wondering, Betty
dear, I've asked you to do all sorts of
things for me before, and I’ve done all
sorts of things for you, and I was just
wondering if you couldn't get Nancy off
and talk to her in one of those confiden
tial girl talks that women have so often,
and just—well—er—er—see how much she
"cares and—that's a dear. You will, won’t
you?"
"I will, indeed,” said Betty. "It will
give me the chance I’ve been longing so
for."
Betty’s blue eyes looked far away down
the street and she smiled at the man and
said:
"I believe I'd like to. Tt will give me
the chance I have long wanted—to really
know' Nancy. Of course, we are awfully,
good friends and we’ve had those girl
talks you mentioned just now, but we’ve
never gotten close enough to talk about
real heart things. T.et s go home right
now, and I'll write Nancy a note and
ask her to come In tomorrow and have i
lunch with me.”
They started home, walking leisurely,
and the man was delighted that his
scheme had worked so well.
Deep down in his heart ,of course he
didn't knowr that Betty really loved Nan
cy very dearly—so much so that while she
had never talked to her about her love
affairs, she had the Intuition to read the
Inside lining of the pretty girl’s heart—
and to divine all its secrets~one of which
had been her affair with Billy Bunting.
Next afternoon the two girls sat be
fore a spluttering w’ood fire after lunch
and Betty’s eyes rested with grave ten
derness upon Nancy, who was the in
jured party in the case, according to
Billy Bunting’s way of thinking.
"Nancy, dear, what are your ideas
about love?” Betty said presently, after
she'd led up to the subject In a very
clever and adroit qianner.
Nancy’s bands clased her knees, as
she huddled up In a big arm chair.
"Dike a child. I’m learning all the
time,” she said, after a pause, "and
there’s so much more for me to learn
that I wish you’d postpone that ques
tion a few-er-er-years.”
"Years?" repeated Betty. "I thought
you were going to say—days."
"No,” the other said, with a little
rising inflection of her pretty, soft
voice.
"I went to walk with Billy Bunting
yesterday," Nancy resumed, "and we
sat out in the park and talked about
—you."
Nancy laughed.
"A very comfortable all-round sort
of understanding laugh, it might have
been termed.
Presently she smiled and said:
"Don’t you know, Betty, what the
love of a man like Billy Bunting re
minds me of—-compared to real love? It |
hasn’t come to me yet—the big love— |
but I have a very sane imagination, and
I can comprehend what it means. I’ve j
•een it. I’ve got a married sister—
and then my mother and father, whose
lives have been ideal for 30 odd years.
The emotion that Billy Bunting takes
for real love is like the silly, foolish
music of a little hand, orgam—a worn
out record. His love' reminds me of
the cheap emotion in the song, ‘Love
Mo and the World is Mine.’ Poor old
Billy Bunting. He isn't to blame that
his heart is made of wax, that records
every woman’s voice that comes into
hie car. once I believe he thought I
cared for him, and—”
"Did you?*' Betty said, breathlessly.
"With a hand organ . sort of senti
ment," the girl admitted, xbut not with
the real love Jlke Cathedral music on
faster morning. That kind is holy and
high and carries one off op its beauti
ful wings. Billy Bunting s is the kind
that comes with the night, with the
I foolish fireflies in the park. Real love
is the early morning sort of glory.
There’s a feeling of secretiveness about
a love shared with him. Even before
[it’s love. Even when it s In the stage
j th girl l?n’t sure that she under
stands how she cares and—"
She stopped perfectly still.
"I'm all mixed up," she said, stam
meringly, "but 1 don't undervalue men
of his type. They arc made to teach
silly women comparisons. What is 1'
thai some one has written:
•• *1 could love the down, if I'd never
seen the king.’
I suppose tV® the same way with
me," she went on gently. "If a girl
hasn’t had her experience with the
cheap sort of men who are perfectly
assured and satisfied with their own
fascinations in dealing with women—
she couldn't possibly look up and know
the real man—the one whose mind is so
far removed from such thoughts that
ue doesn’t consider himself at all. Boor
Billy Bunting. He reminds me of a tot
tering old professor. He Is so versed
in what he thinks is the lore of love—
when really all his scientific society
knowledge is nothing; he hasn't the j
capacity for genuine feeling. His love
is a curious mixture of regret or some
thing that's gone before, and a very
imperfect present sort of glory.
Betty suddenly remembered that she
bud a note to write.
She went to- her desk and scribbled a
1 11 let doux.
She sent the maid out to pusl It—late as
it was.
It went like litis:
••MV Deal- Billy:—Don't reproach your
self, niy dear friend, about Nancy. Love
y our Anne to your heart’s content. Nancy
admits that you were a 'dear.' which ts
a very damning sort of state ol mind for
'Memories Preserved.' In the mean time,
she keeps faith with ‘The Man' who is
'on t lie way' as site expresses tt, so
romantically. and .no 'Hand Organ love,
like yours as she wittily defines it, need
apply. Maybe you'll still be a Bachelor
When she Invites you to her wedding.
How's that for the part of a good friend?
■BETTY."
Billy Bunting was Just finishing his
dinner when the note arrived.
Read It—whistled—and pushed his plate
aside.
"Well I'll be-er-er," he began, hut didn't
finish ll. "it's true then, that she has
forgotten."
lie pulled oul of his pocket two senseless
little scribbles from Anne—his latest
heart's love and disgustingly tore them
up, and threw them in the fire.
-—-1_-— -—-—
Daughters of Eve and Postscripts—By Karl Kaffer
IN untangling a mysterious, or baleful,
or any other kind of complex situa
tion, the French say:
“Cherchez la femme"—And the woman.
In arriving at the kernel of a woman’s
letters, we might paraphrase a little and
say, Find the postscript.
That is, we might as a rule. Of course,
there are occasional exceptions, Where
a woman in a sudden flash of reasonable1
consecutivences will start right out with
what she has to say, in the beginning of
her letter.
But not often.
The safest rule Is, Find the postscript.
And this reminds me of a little exein-1
plifying the rule, which was written by
a certain young woman to her cousin. .
And just how that letter came Into
hands that would eventually lead it, all
unsuspecting, into the columns of a Sun
day paper is quite another story, and not
to be gone into at present.
Sufficient unto the day is the evil
thereof. There will be quite exciting
enough times for this poor scribe when
Priscilla reads her Sunday paper. .
Follows the letter, undiluted, unrevised.
unexpurgated:
“Just a line, Helen, dearest, to tell you
about Uncle Jack's accident. It hap
pened yesterday. I had just come in
from Martha Smythe’s bridge. She had
eight tables and, honey, it was a mess!!
No rules, nor order. You could play roy-j
al spades at one table and at the next
you couldn’t. And the players she had
there! Half of them positively couldn’t
count their score. Mary Brown wore that j
same old blue marquisette (1 know it
must be attached to her!) And Patty
looked frowsy as ever—like she had slept
in her clothes, you know. Lucia was
wearing a perfectly darling new coat suit,
a kind of grayish velvet, with a rose chif
fon blouse—and a gorgeous new sunbursM
They say her father is on his last legs
and is almost insane over the expenses
at home. Their machine was attached f*>r
a grocery bill, but dotty mention this.
I wore my old rose princess (of course).
"However, leaving off clothes (heav
ens! not exactly that, but changing the
subject), what do you think of this?
"Effie Reeder is going in strongly for
‘literature and the higher arts!’ Effie!
Now, wouldn’t that make a tombstone
laugh. When everybody knows poor E£
lle hasn't got the brain of an insect.
Well, one never knows who’s going to do
what these days.
"It is hitter cold. Everything under ice.
You take your life in your hands when
you step out of the house. That’s how it
happened with Uncle Jack.
"And Aunt Fannie and grandma are in
such n state of nerves and temperament!^
Pcor me. Between the three 1 am a
wreck. I sat up most of the night with
poor Uncle Jack.
"T won’t be having my club lids after
noon, because I must write all the kin
folks about the accident. And you know
what that means—about 50 letters.
"I am writing the details to you first,
dear, because I know' how anxious you
are to hear all the particulars, just how
he is getting along, etc.
"How I did miss you Christmas day!"
"They were all here, and* honey, there
were exactly 29 of us at dinner.
| “I am truly glad Christmas day is
only a day lung, for this happy family
group business would shatter my nervous
system if it lasted any longer! With
Aunt Emmy and Aunt Sue barely speak
ing, and Will and Nita about to sue
each other over that city lot business,
and Uncle Daniel openly disapproving of
us all and looking like a frozen statuary,
as Samantha Allan says. Oh, it was
deadly! But grandma was happy, so the
rtht of us grinned and bore it.
“Oh, by the way, 1 met Dickie Wilson
the other day, and he sent you many
loving messages. All the advice I have
to give you is don’t.
“Dickie grows fatter every minute and
his legs recede further and further from
his view. Honest, he looks like a rail
road water tank. And I object to having
a water tank calling me ‘Cousin.’
“Well, honey, dear, I’ll just have to stop
and get some of those other letters writ
ten.
“Always your deyotedy
“PRISCILLA.
“P. S.: I know you’ll be awfully sorry
about Uncle Jack breaking his leg. They
are (he and the leg) doing as well as
could be expected.” •
Is Priscilla's portrait necessary after
that letter? Why it is plain reading that
her nose very liK^ly tilts upward, and
that the state o( her bureau drawers is
something unspeakable. However, she
has a sense of humor, and that Is really
something with a capital S in this world
of prosalcs.
Did it ever occur to you that It isn’t the
clothes a woman wears, nor the things
she says, nor the fads she affects that
most truly portray her character? It’s
the letters she writes. Take Elizabeth,
for instance, from a far off boarding
school. Thus, Elizabeth:
"Dearest Old Chum: Two months and
one week from today, and I'll be home!
Glory! Won't I be happy to tell this old
school goodby?
"I wouldn't stay another year for 20
sheepskins. I’m crazy to get back and
help you and the crowd raise sand. The
K. O. T. girls had the dandyest spread
Friday night. I nearly killed myself on
fudge, etc. Who is Harry rushing these
days? Are you still loving Thomas? etc.
Well, give all the bunch my love and
please hold back some of the good times
until 1 get there. Yours lovingly,
• "RUIZAHETH.
"P. 8.: Please go over to mama’fT and
ask her to send me that chocolate cake
by next Friday, sure.”
Now, to describe or explain Elizabeth
would be insulting to the intelligence of
the most casual observer. S.fcie Is as ob
vious as a tiursery rhyme, or a photo
play-poster.
Then there’s Marian, who says:
"My Dear Friend: 1 woudl have an
swered your highly appreciated letter
lyng ago. but T really have not had time,
etc. First. Maud hac| company, an old
school friend, and that kept me busy, es
pecially as the cook, etc. Now, J will take
yom questions just as they come and an
swer them all. No; I did not go down to
Uncle Johns, because Maud and I have
so much of our spring sewing to do, etc.
Yes, mother Is a good deal better and
father is also In better health. Yes, I re
ceived Carrie's photograph, and I think It
Is lovely, though It does not really, etc.
“Yes, I think we will go on the moun
tain next summer, and 1 hope so much
that you can go with us, etc. No, I have
not had my room done over yet. Yes.
1 think f will have it in white and green
Do come over next week and let me know
what day, etc. And now, with kindest
regards for the family and love for your
self, I am your affectionate friend.
•MARIAN.”
”P.-8.: By tlie way, ho sure to bring
that new pattern you were telling me
about, and please try to match that silk
for me at Stem’s.”
Do you not see Marlon? Slim and
trim, and prim? Or perhaps fat, and trim,
and prim. Trim and prim, anyhow. She
probably stuck to shirtwaists and man
nish ties long after they had gone out
Without doubt there isn't the suspicion
of an upward tilt to iter nose; it isn’t in
her letter, anyway. And her mind is just
as orderly and as immaculately arranged
as her bed or her bureau drawers.
Tlie beauty of a tidy room means more
to her than the glory of a sunset. Always
to Marian, a primrose is a primrose;, and
she will see nothing funny whatsoever in
things which provoke Priscilla to unholy
mirth.
But wasn’t it postscripts we were talk
ing about ?
And are you doubtful? Well, m.v friend,
just to prove tilings, the next, time you
have an importantly thick and bulky let
ter from your wifi*, and you are In a ter
ribly big blurry, and want to get immedi
ately at the vital point of the matter, just
go at it Chinese fashion and start at the
end.
You’ll save lots of time.
They weren't much consolation.
“Well 7*11 be-er-er," be started again—
his withered pride and crushed conceit
being frightfully upset by the realization
that Nancy had never cared for him,
and In reality looked upon his love and
her affair with him with utter contempt.
'Mv ‘Hand Organ love! Whew! And
think of her telling this to Betty. I was
a precious fool to ever confide in her.
What must she think of me, and how she
must adore Nancy!"
The Old Rail Fence
From the Wilwaukee Sentinel.
In this age of rapid progress, with
all sorts of new methods and mate
rials, many of the old modes are be
ing discarded and will soon be mere
memories.
Very few of our young people, for
instance, have seen the old fashioned
rail fence which was once used all
over this country by thousands of
farmers. Th e native forests were
abundant, and immense oaks. with
large, straight trunks that would have
been excellent for manufacturing what
is known hs quarter sawed lumber for
the fine furniture, w’ere chopped dow n
and split into heav.v rails that wrent
to make "worm fences.
In many sect tons. especially In
Pennsylvania. Ohio. West Virginia and
Kentucky, where the black walnut grew
so abundant in the early days of the
country, the trees were not .considered
of any more value than the ordinary
forest timber, and they were often cur
and split Into rails, which were light;
in weight, but were very durable,
sometimes being used In tail f.-nce con
struction for the greater part of a cen
tury. In certain localities some of these
old walnut rails are to lx- found yet.
Such trees as# were used in making
them would bring large sums at the
present time. One farmer in eastern
Ohio recently sold 2ft large black wal
nut trees to a dealer in fnnev timber
for J1300.
Chestnut js a wood that splits easily
and in tunny localities t hese trees were
cut and made into rails. Now the
chestnut is a valuable timber for many
uses.
The old style rail fence, which most
of our grandparents were familiar with,
was. when properly erected, a very sub
stantial structure.
The rails were about 11 feet in
length, usually being split so as to
have three sides The corners were
sharp, and when properly laid up
would make H .solid fence. Heavy
chunks were often used at the cor
ners and the fences built from eight
to ten rails high, laid at an angle,
one on the top of the other. When
the fence was finished except the top
rail, stout stakes or rails were set up
at each bend in the fence, one on either
side, in such a manner that they rested
in the angles and crossed to hold the
top rail, or “rider,” as it was called.
In some sections people built what
was known as the “post and rail”
fence. The posts were square or a lit
tle broader one way than the other,
and five or six oblong holes were mor
tised through the portion that stood
above the ground, and the ends of the
rails sharpened and the points stuck
through the posts. This method en
abled the person to build a falrlv
straight fence, and It was possible to
cultivate more of the land.
Soon after the new method of build
ing a rail fence was tried the trees
were sawed into boards, and post and
board fences were all the rage; but in
a few more years the factories turned
out great quantities of wire and tho
wire fence has taken the place of al
most every other form of inclosure.
During the period when rails were
extensively used shingles were split
from short lengths of the straightest
grained oak timber and houses and
barns were roofed with these. When
properly put on. such a roof would last
for more than half a century.
Now the roofing Is nearly all done
with slate or metal, or some form of
pulp, woven and pressed into sheets
that are treated with paints of various
kinds to make them durable. The old
fashioned roof has disappeared from
many section entirely.
I.ogal Husiness
From the Cleveland Plain Dealer. ,
A certain man in this town went to
•all at the office of a certain other man
in tills town Friday. The office boy told
the caller that the boss was out on
important legal business, and *the caller
went away. But the next morning (we
tell what we have heard) the caller called
again.
"Where's the boss?" he asked.
"Out on important business,” answered
the office boy.
"lx»ok here, boy! I was here yesterday
and you said t he. boss was out on some
legal business.”
"Yes. sir."
"Well. F went and found him up against
the bar In the nearest saloon. Is that
what you call legal business?"
"Why ain't it? is it illegal to get a
drink?”
Operations
Avoided
T housands of surgical operations are performed every year in our
^ great city hospitals upon women afflicted with serious female
troubles. Sometimes the operations are successful and sometimes
they are not; sometimes*they are necessary, many tunes they are not.
It is safe to say that a very large percentage of surgical operations for female troubles may be wholly avoided. This
statement is amply proven by hundreds of letters constantly being received by the Lydia E. Pinkham Medicine Co., of
Lynn, Mass., and the following letter from Mrs. Orville Rock of Paw Paw, Mich., relates her sad experience, which is only
one of thousands that are constantly occurring. Had she taken Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound at first, as she
finally did, her dreadful hospital experience would have been avoided.
Here is her own statement: Paw Paw, Mich.: “ Twoyeaft ago I suffered very severely with a displacement. I could not be on
my feet for a long time. My physician treated me for several months without much relief, and finally sent me to Ann Arbor for
an operation. I was there four weeks, and came home suffering worse than before. My mother advi^d me to try Lydia E. Pink
ham’s Vegetable Compound and I did. Today I am well and strong and do all my own housework. I ow|, v health to Lydia E. Pink
ham’s Vegetable Compound, and advise my friends who have any female complaint to try it.”—Mks. OkvV . Rock, Paw Paw, Mich.
If you are ill don’t drag along until yotf are advised to have an operation, but remember that fof mirty years Lydia E. Pinkham s
Vegetable Compound has been the standard remedy for female ills and has saved a vast army of women from surgical operations.
No sick woman does justice to hers,elf who will not at least give this famous medicine a trial.
A HAND80ME REWARD WILL BE GIVEN
to any person who will prove that any of our testimonial letters constantly being published in the daily newspapers are not genuine
and truthful, or that any of these women were paid in any way to give their testimonials or that the letters were published without their
permission or that all the original letters did not come to ns entirely unsolicited. THE LYDIA E. PINKHAM MEDICINE CO., Lynn, Mass.
_i-.' > _ __