The Richmond Virginian., September 17, 1910, CITY EDITION, SPORTING SECTION, Page 4, Image 14

About The Richmond Virginian. (Richmond, Va.) 1910-1920

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HKNRY MTCHKI.J. WKBSTKK
AtUhitr vttk Samufi Atman) <>/ Calumet “
Copyright 1910 by Thr ' pnturv Company
’i«i
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Itff
‘S' (Continued irotn V(«»d«.v.)
Ho did not answer her question.
He I'm recalling something which hi*
amazing meeting with, the girl out
here on the ice-floe had, l-«r a tittle
while. i*m quite out of his nilnd—the
weird, silent tragedy he had seen in
acted a ie» hour* before upon the
glacier t-ehind, the headland The vic
tim. the man in the leather coat,
must have been one of the party
from the yacht; but it »n* imp- saline
that the little hand of htr murderer^
co,itd be. No one freshly landed from
lh« yacht would have been dressed as
they were, or tvouid have been armed
with darts.
With no la tter look a! them than
had been possible to him as he hung
above their heads, he had been eon*
Vinced that they were white; certainly
the leather-coated man had been talk - j
lug to them, freely enough. In Eng
11sh- And yet. 11 white, they idust
have been refugee#—survivors. If not
•»f Captain Fielding's Hl-fated expedi
tion then of some other, tragic, un
cported ship wreck.
Hut If they were white mcn—refu
gees. why had they fled from their ,
hut at sight of the yacht which came
bringing a rescue" Why had they
driven that one luckless member of
the Rescuing party who fell In wltn ,
thorn, into that carefully prepared
ambush, and then murdered him, si
lently? Even Eskimos would not have
done a thing like that.
His long alienee had alarmed the
girt, and presently, perceiving that
this was so. he drew himself up with j
an affected start. “I beg your par
don. I drifted off, thinking of some
thing else. Living In the sky doesn’t
seem conducive to good manners. Xo,
1 don't believe there is anything to
worry about. Any way, as aoo
light comes back, wnieh won't l-e
long now, l can set at rest any tears
you row have. I'll go and find your
party, and I'll search the land, too— j
for anything else that may be there, j
And then I'll bring you word.”
"You are very good," she said with
a little hesitation, "but 1 can't let
you—”
He Interrupted her with a laugh -
"It's nothing difficult that I am pro- I
posing to do for you, yo6 know."
"That's true. 1 had forgotten your
wings. The rocks, the ice, the steep ;
places, that mean so tragically much
to them, are nothing at all to you.
Hut what are you doing now 7 Even I
you can't find them In the dark."
To had already begun unstrapping
the bundle he had made at tils wings, t
and seemed to .be preparing'for im
mediate flight. That was what caused
her question.
“Xo,” he said; "I shall wait lor sun- I
rise."
"But why not here, on the yacht? i
AVe can give you a comfortable bed ■
there; better, certainly, than that
sleeping bag of your*.
”1 am afraid.” he said, that what
you -*a!l a comfortable bed -in a
yacht’s cabin would be the surest in-j
strufnent that could lx- found for
keeping me awake all night. No. 1
shall find a sheltered hollow up at the
top ol that headland yonder, where!
1 shall sleep deeply enough, you may ]
be sure.”
She still Interposed a halt-licartcd
objection to his gutng. and yd she
was glad he did not yield to It. The
thought of his unfolding his wings
and flying away again, just as he
toad come, seemed titter, somehow,
than the prospect of taking him to
the yacht In a dinghy, and bidding
him good night, like any other com
monplace sort of mortal.
tfhe watched him, silently, vvhi'e'he
slipped the steel-jointed rod* Into !
place, draw the catgut bow strings
taut, until they sang—until the fabric
of his planes shimmered In the star
light—quivered, as if they w-.-ic >n
stimt with a life of their own.
A sense of the unreality jf li all
came welling up strongly within her.
and a touch of ari almost forgotten
fear of him.
"Good night." she said, holding out
her hand—— "good bye.”
"Till morning." he answered.
A little breeze came blowing across
the ice just then. He dropped her
hand quickly, slipped his arms into
their place# in the frame, mounted
the ledge of ice. and then, with a
short ru», sprang forward into the
breeze.
She saw his planes bend a little,
u&duiate, rather, with a #ort of scull
ing motion, as -lie flew forward, not
tax above the level of her head he
dipped down again a* soon as he had
open water beneath him, and almost
skimmed the surface of it. Then, ga
thering speed, he began mounting, on
a long slant. In that great starry,
domailke sky, until, at last, the dani
nesa swallowed him.
She felt curiously alone, now that
he was gone; and a little frightened.!
like a child Just waking out of a
dream. And »he blew a small silver
whistle that hung about her neck, for
a signal to the men on the yacht to j
send a boat for her.
Thru, while she .waited, she dropped
down ratht-r limply mi her pile of
bear-skins Her hand found something
hard that had not been there before,
and taking it op she found that It
was a -furious blunt stink of wood,
rudely w hittled, and about ten inches
long. It must havi fallen from hl»
belt while lie tat there talking to her.
She wondered what he used it for.
fHAITtlt III.
l ist- Mun.orerv.
Two men elan In- bear-skins were
shuttling rapidly along across the gla
cier. bmui was already flooding the
■Arctic rky with it* amazing riot of
color—rose, green gold, violet and the
be beneath their ject was rose color
with misty blue shadows in It.
The loremost ol the two wayfarers
was a man of gigantic stature, six
and a half feet tail und of enormous
giith or chest: yet. somehow, despite
his size and the ungainly clothes he
wore, he contrived to preserve an air
almost of lightness; ol lean, compact
athleticism, certainly. A stranger,
meeting him anywhere and contem
plating his ..formidable proportions,
and men locking up past his great,
blunt Jaw into his cold, light blue,
choleric eyes, would b« likely to ahtv
er a little and then get out of his
way as soon as possible.
He was walking steadily, glancing
neither to the right nor the left. EVen
over fhe treacherous, summer-glared
surface ol the glacier, his great stride
carried him along at a pace whfah
hte companion found it difficult to
keep up with. Besides, this compan
ion made his tusk the harder by al
lowing bis eyes to wander from the
track they were lollowing, an! casting
little furtive, anxious glances at the
man beside him. in any other com
pany he* would have been a rather
striking figure himself, well above
middle height, powerfully made, and
with a face that had lines of experi
ence and determination engraved In it.
But the comparison dwarfed him.
He seemed to be trying to make up
his mind to speak, and still to find this
a difficult thing to do. At last, with
a deprecatory cough he began:
■'\Vhat 1 can t see Is, Koscoe. what
you did It for. It was all right to do
It ir you were Uggertng out any gain
from It. We'd all agreed to that.
Anything for our common good, that's
out motto. But where's the gain In
killing just one poor fellow out of a
party of thirty He seemed a good
kind ot c hap, too, and friendly spok
en. We didn't serve you like that,
when you come aboard the Walrus at
(Jape Noma."
"It would have coat you four men
to do it. J’tanck, and you were short
handed a a tt was.”
"That wasn't why we didn't do it.
luu was a stranger and you was in
a bad way. There was a mob of men
that wanted you nnghty bad. and we
gave you shelter and carried you off
and made you a regular sharin' mem
ber of the crew. Of course, If we’d
had any reason to act contrary, we'd
have done so. And that's why it
seemed to us toj me 1 would say,
that you probably had Borne reason
In this case, here. And, well—wed
like to know what it Is."
But the man he had addressed as
‘Tioscoe” strode on with unabated
pace, as if he had not heard. For
any ateution he paid to his questioner,
he might have been alone In that ex
panse or ice and sky.
i’lauck accepted the silent rebuff
as if it had beeu only what he hud
expected, but he sighed regretfully.
He had once known, and it was only
four years ago, that same swaggering
trick of contemptuous authority him
self. He hud been master, the most
tyrannical sort of master, some say,
to be found anywhere In the world,
the captain of an American whaler.
And this very man, at whose heels he
was scram tiling along Over the Ice, had
been one of his crew ; had never ap
proached the quarter deck where he
reigned supreme, without an apolo
getic hand at his forelock, and had
always passed to the leeward side of
him up on deck.
But the Walrus had been destined
never to see port again. She lingered
too long on the whaling grounds to
get back through Behring Strait that
tall, and failed In the attempt to
make McKenzie Bay, where other
whalers in similar plight put in for
the winter. Instead of this friendly
harbor, she was caught In the pack I
and carried, relentlessly, north and
westward. The milling pressure of
great masses of Ice crushed in her
stout hull, so that the open water
they had been hoping for, became, at ,
•■nee, their deadliest peril. The mo
ment the Ice broke away she would
go to the bottom like a plummet.
(To be continued.)
He who sees only the seamy side
of life* Is dead already.
He Is worse than a slave who Is
governed by bis passions.
Haste usually trips on Its own heels. ;
PICTURE PUZZLE.
v>
<«pyri*ht,
~] MRS. RUBKRT
Mr*. Kendal, who, like
Ills* Ellen Terry, Is one of
the moil beloved of English
aclrt Me«, come* of a famous
Engtlih theatrical family,
the Robertson* J. W. Rob
ertson, her father. was an
actor,and her mother waa a
worthy representative of the
same art. Her brother. T.
W. Robertson, more famil
iarly known an Tom” Kob
; ertton, was a leading dr.i
matlat, and hi* play "Caste"
Is still a favorite comedy.
Madge Robertson was
born at Cleethorpeg in 1*41.
Her (tret public appearance
, was made while a mere child
: at the old Marylebone Thea
tre In London In "The Strug
gle for God.” For several
years afterward she played»
children’s parts In pantom
ime. n was in 1**5 that
she made per first appear
ance as an adult. making
her debut at the Havmarket
as Ophelia to the Hamlet, of
th» Into Wulta-i
TOW KENDAi*
waa In 1*69 that she mar
ried William Hunter Grim
ston (Mr. enrtal).
In 1876 Mrs. Kendal
achieved two of her great
est triumphs as Lady,Orman
in "Peril" and Dora In
■•Diplomacy” at the Prince
of Wales Theatre with the
Hancrofts. Prom 1*77 to
T»»* the Kendala were In
partnership with John Hare
in the management of the
St. James’, and produced
“The Queen’s Shilling,"
The Stiulre," “Impulse,’’
"The Ironmaster." "A Scrap
of Paper," "As You Like
It.” "The Lady of Lyons"
and other pieces. They then
made several visits to this
country, where they were as
popular as In their native
England.
Airs. Kendal has three
children. Dorlngton Grim
nton. an actor; Harold
Urimston, a pianist, and
Dorothy Grtmston. also an
This was followed by an eighteen months' tour of
English province*, and in 1867 she returned to Lon
don and appeared at Drury Lane In "The Great Cfty"
under Chatterton's management. It was during the
following year that she first attained prominence
by her performance of Hlanche Dumont In "A Hero
of Romance" at the Haymarket, then under the
management of the famous Huckstone. She then
returned to the Haymarket and remained there for
seven year*, playing in a cycle of dramas by \V. S.
Gilbert, which included "The Palace of Truth," "Pyg
malion and Galetea" and "The Wicked World.” It
Meyer, a theatrical manager. The Kendal*, who
now act only occasionally, divide their time between
their town house in Portland place, JLondon, and
their country home, which is called "The I*odgt?,”
and is located at Filey, in Yorkshire.
The founder Of Mrs. Kendal's family was Jaa. Rob*
ertson <1828*1796). a Scotch actor, who came from
Perth. His son, Ja*. Robertson, an actor, was Mrs.
Kendal's grandfather. Her father. Wna Robertson,
married an actress, named Margaretta Marlnur. and
six of their children achlved fame, on the stage.
i
DISSATISFACTION OF DOUBT
BV MADISON C. 1‘ETKHS.
1 believe In things new, not new <
1» the sense of novelty, but new In I
the sense of frefehness—fresh un- !
foldings, new method* an<f modem |
applications. 1 believe In things old, j
not old In the sense of ancient, but
old in the sense of primary, funda- :
mental, eternal-stability of basis—
conservation progress.
Tennyson truly says: There lives
more faith In honest doubt than half j
the creeds." But not every doubter
Is necessarily a truth seelter. even
though doubting is an essential part
In the process of finding truth. Every !
honest doubt must sooner or later
give way u» a sense of sureness. Ten
nyson did not mean rest In doubt; he |
meant an "honest doubt," that was;
bent upon Inquiry and was open to j
conviction.
«•!
fought his doubts, and gathered)
strength;
He would not make his Judgment
blind;
He faced the spectres of his mind,
And laid them; thus he came at
length
To find a stronger faith his own,
And power was with him in the!
night;
Which makes the darkness and the j
light.
And dwell* not in the light alone.”
God’s work is equally past finding
cut in the apple drawn earthward. In
the grain of sand, in the precious
gem. In the drop of water, -In the
electric spark. In. the beam of light.
Exact knowledge of anything is Im
possible. ' There is enough mystery,”
said Unnaeus,” in a handful of moss
to give one a lifetime's study.” At j
every step, in his studies the scientist
is charmed with increasing knowl-!
edge, but he fs still more fascinated)
with unfathomable mystery. The man,
who waits for logic to settle his :
convictions for him will have to die ,
without believing anything.
Some men debate in order thal they ;
may not decide. If you will not take
the one .step that is made clear, you
cannot know the part of the way that
lits In the shadow. By doing the duty,
th«A lies nearest' will ever bring you i
to the next duty. Doing you snail j
know.
Christianity is not merely ecstatic
fervor— if is life. if you want to >
know the certainty of these things,
you must put them in practice. If i
you wish to find out whether a ma- I
chln« will work you set It a-golng.
If you want to know whether a coat
will lit, you put It on.
if you wish to actualize God, obey
him. At Reigate. England, In the
spacious grounds of the ancient pH- ,
ory, there Is a tree which Is known
as the ''tra.e of decision.” Under It;
stood Jady Henry Somerset In the j
darkest hour of her 4***; the veryf
foundations seemed lor be giving way. 1
She was struggling with the awful i
question. “Is there a God'.'” when J
there came to her a message, "l„lve |
us though 1 were and you shall know !
that ] am.” Tt^e decision was made:
and God became real.
Mysteries there will alw ays be. The !
great unknowable beyond our pres
ent finite sense w* must ever recog
nise as out of present reach. But this
Is quite a different matter from mere i
dubiousness and a halting attitude to- '
ward any question which legitimate-;
ly presents itself as one on which'
we ought to take a side.
It Is easy to fall Into the habit of
Incessant doubting—a floating, drift
ing. unanchored condition of mind. It
is better to be sometimes sure than
never to be sure simply to avoid the
risk of being sometimes mistaken.
A great character is not built by
doubting. It is not necessarily a mark
of intelligence to doubt. A fodl can
hold a penny to his eye and say he
can see the hidden sun.
A creed Is not religion—It is *
statement of what some men think
about_ re^Jgio^ Wbcghlp U not re
ligion—it is a method of expressing
religion. The church is not religion
—it is an organisation of men and wo
men for the purpose of promoting
religion, it is not a definition of
God—it is fellowship with Him; not
» definition of sin. but sorrow because
L>f sin; not a definition of forgiveness,
but relief from remorse—not a defini
tion of redemption, hut a new and
divine life—th* ljfe of God In the
»oul.
U la a personal consciousness
‘f
God, It is comradeship with God. i
Reading Peary la not going to the 1t
Worth Pole, Believing a creed is not
perceiving God. Fatherhood means
personal relation. A father and an
>rphan aayhsm axe not identical. One
may get food and shelter from an
>rphan asylum, but he cannot get
atherhood. Fatherhood Implies per
ianal relationship, for which neither
31 his. creed nor church can serve as t
lubetltute.
Some »0b will believe anything if It
* “o* *• ttoo Bible. For example, an
'VoltUhHtfat »S quoted; "Evolution Is
iTWSK.S* STSWSrX:
I
' - " ■ t>. *-« i AC»'
herein, heterogeneity, through con
tinuous differentiations and lntrega
tions'' which being Interpreted reads
In plahi Knglish thus: "Evolution Is
a change from nohowlsh untalkabout
able allaltkeness. to a somehowish and I
In general—talkaboutable not allaltke- j
nett*, by continuous somethingelslfi
catlons -and sticktogethererations." I
And there are persona who accept
without question the assertions of
sc.ientiiic men, much- in the spirit of
the old Scotch woman, who when ask
ed if she could compreheut the minis
ter whom Bhe had been praising, re
plied: "Comprehend him: 1 would na
hae the presumption!”
The most miserable men and women
1 ever knew were the poor souls who
gave up God. Without God there is
no peace for the heart, no peace for i
the conscience, no peace for tne mind.
A celebrated French statesman said:
"God Is as necessary to Franco as
liberty." The cry ot humanity is for
God. From the lower depths we hear I
this cry. Ever since the presence of
sin has drawn a deep, dark shadow
over the race, the yearning of men’s 1
hearts has gone out toward the in- j
visible. By various methods have
they sought to express this desire. !
The different kinds of religious ex- j
pression prove that men are hunger- j
ing and thirsting for the satisfaction !
of their lnn.-r craving. The idols and
oracles of the heathen world clearly!
prove this. The speculations of the |
ancient philosophers and the guesses j
of modern scientists show that be- :
neath their outward seif-posaesslon !
there is a burning desire to know i
more of the secret nature of that force
which moves the world. But aside
from philosopher and scientist there is
in the breasts of the vast majority of j
mankind a thirst for rest, for peace. ;
for those things which God alone cart j
supply. As Augustine puts It: "The
soul is restless until it rests In God." 1
SHOREJACRES; PERHAPS.
m
JHe has real estatebefthe braia*
"ph, is it real estate? I heard ft
wateri.'"
lurui-hiiig the Nursery.
The wallpaper* tor nurseries arc es
pecially attractive with their say
frieze* of wonderful fairy tale people.
Mother (loose, Noah's Ark and happy
little children playing among tho
[lowers. Some of the designs come
In sets of four panels that can be
framed If desired. A Noah’s Ark
’rlese with the animals marching t\\o
Djr two under the watchful eyes of the
STosh family, with an ark and stiff
lttl* Noah's Ark trees, will give end
ess pleasure if placed about three
'eet from the floor where small tota
sa take In iu charm. If placed too
itgh. it Is very often not noticed at
all. Some of the most attractive
iiunorles have painted walls with
ipeclal designs stenciled on them.
It any one of these friezes is placed
those a simple wainscot, the effect
s charming. The paper Tor nurseries
a usually nater-proof, for a nursery
nun be absolutely spick and span,
(neither thing that gives much pleas
»re In a nursery Is to build on one
Ide Of the mom a platform about a
iHRgfeMe and six Inches high, and
OyetPlji with cushions.
rniture In a day nursery
nstst of a toy cupboard
talOsd to match the color scheme of
h» rb*m and large enough for each
hlld to have hla' own special com
■artmsnt in it. If the* children's
nltlals are painted or burned on the
loom H gives an added feeling of
itlds In keeping the toya In order,
’hhr* are many designs of small
shies and chairs made with good
Iktef and the wicker ones with gay
retonne cushions are very attractive,
•he tables and ehalrs should not have
comers and should he heavy
not to Up over sas
tos a bookcase fo»
picture cooks. nesiae im rmna tor
til* children'!! own meals there should
be a set of play china for_ doll's
parties. A sand-table, with a lump
of clay for modeling, a blackboard
and, In the spring. window-boxes ■
where the children can plant seeds,
will all add vastly to the Joy of life.
And do not forget a comfortable
chair for the nurse maid. White mus
lin curtains with side hangings of
washable chlnt* or linen or some spe
cial nursery design in cretonne should i
hang to the sill.
The colors in both day and night
nurseries should /be sort and cheer
ful, and the Color; scheme as carefully ,
thought out as for the rest of the i
house. Both rooms should be on the >
sunny side of the house, and far ,
enough away from the family living 1
room to avoid any one's being dls-1
turbed when armies charge up and ,
down the play-room battle-ground or i
Indians start out on the warpath. i
Coiffure and Jeweirv Fads.
To be marcelled or not to be. that i
Is one of the vital questions of the 1
moment with the French woman. Ma- I
dame Oheruu, whom all Parislennee
love to 'copy, was the originator of j
the uncurled coiffure. She keepa her j
beautiful, burnished, chestnut hair |
from clinging together by frequent
shampoos In a fusion of bois de Pan- J
ama (Panama wood or bark). To give '
hair from riying. she has it brushed
with a brllliantlne tonic several times
shape to the coiffure and to keep the
a day. The coiffure, however, ts so
very trying that the army of Madame
Uheruit's followers is at present some
what small.
Coquettish llttse curls are quite the
fashion. With the turban Which Paul
Polret's Bast Indian erase haa brought
lti favor, these little curls are worn1
dangling either before or behind the
ears. This Bast Indian erase has also ,
brought about not only the vogue for !
beautiful chiffons, crepes and silks in j
East Indian colors and patterns, but*
a fondness or barbaric designs In Jew- j
dry.
Many ear rings, especially in hoop j
style, throatlets and chains are there- j
fore worn.
■In striking contrast to the close
titting turban effects, which are so
fashionable to wear with low-out eve
ning gowns, there are the very flat
hats for every day wear trimmed
merely with a huge bow. These are
generally developed in taffeta, and
those having the hat black and the
bew of white silk are considered
present quite the smartest of all.
For evening wear many princess ef
fects will be worn, even in the pro
nounced paillette, or tube beading
overdress, or in the heavier silks. In
the way of newness the supple taffetas
have found a place in dancing and
theater dresses. They are In rather
strong colors and are often seen trim
med with lace or net.
Paris will look with special favor
on- the separate coat for the coming
season and It is easy to see how its
reappearance is the outcome of the
vogue for the short tailored Jacket,
which is Impractical for so many oc
casions. The new French overcoat u
not only a practical, but really a most
distinctive and smart garment. It Is
easy In fit, to be sure, but has none
of the clumsy proportions of the auto
mobile coat, nor Is It so long as to
make walking in It uncomfortable,
in Its favorite form it has loose rag
lan shoulders and is made double
breasted with a large hood lined In
a contrasting color. Cherult and Cat
lot make the overcoat in this style,
but Poiret uses a little collar and big
cuffs of fur and a belt across the
back.
Invisible checks and stripes la the
heaviest of frieses are used for these
overcoats, as well as rich, plain colors
In a fine quality of chinchilla cloth.
Two or three big bone or shaded
wooden buttons are used to fasten the
coat. /
Perhaps, because the French over
coat is such an extremely practical.
Plain garment, opera coats are out
doing themselves In their gorgeous
ness. They are developed'In heavy,
rich satins and either In Paisley color
logs or the strongest shades of greet
or cerise. The collars are of costlj
tur and the sleeve openings are a he
trimmed with fur.
the PAKHINCi SHOW.
The Saturday Evening Post «*
dares that during the last nine yean
the Steel Trust has paid operating
expenses, taxes and Interest on bond*
which represent more money than
stockholders ever actually paid In for
he construction of the various plants:
it has set aside many millions to ean
sel the principal of the bonds, and
tas deducted enough money not only
o keep the plants In full repair, but
Uso to improve and extend them,
-net year alone, for example, sixteen
nlllton dollars was. charged eut fot
he “extraordinary replacement." And
ifter doing oil that, it* net surplus
iroflts for the ben " '
lave amounted to
If ownership <>f something ]««•-,
sent)*) for n mutt, it Hi for * boy W
well. It la necegsgry la « man be
cause Ood ha* put him In the midst of
things that are to be owned, has given
him a desire for possession and has
distinctly told him to subdue and use
them. And whenever we find a man
who has lest all desire for such
things, he will not take the right kind;
of interest in them nor feel responsi- 1
billty, nor get the discipline he might
through his effort to possess them, un
less he has some special mission ini
the world., which prevents acquisition
of property. j
80 a hoy must begin to have things
of his own. tor he needs training i
In that, as well as In hts memory or
reasoning or power of speech. Through
hts memory he owns much; through j
laying up something, he Is providing ]
tot the future and Increasing his pres- I
ent enjoyments and opportunities.
One can own only what he can know j
and use. The vagrant has nothing'
to enjoy; the very rich own very little]
of what they have, because they can- J
not enter' into it. Just as a man can <
have great supplies of food, but only \
assimilate one meal at a time. Hut
some men are like an arrow—go i
through life and accumulate nothing, j
A boy must gratify that desire, se- ]
cure that discipline and feel that re- j
spcnUbillty, by owning and caring for :
and managing something. He most
have his own comb and brush, toys,
hooks, clothes and articles of useful- i
ness. H la pockets show his passion i
for possession. a blind desire, work- i
Ing without the power of selection, ’
ami the result is an aggregation of
things entirely uesless, except to a 1
boy—knife, tops, marbles, bean-shoot
ers. beeswax, bullets, buckles, lead,'
scrap iron, cling*, strings, nshlng \
hooks, Ashing lines, baaing worms. 1
chewing gum. licorice, candy, pills.;
There Is an age when he Is more me-'
five in such enterprises, hut he is do- '
ing the same thing he does when he
amasses wealth. He has a trading age,
from about eleven to fifteen, when he
will trade anything he has for any
thing any other boy ha»—-cats and ■
dogs and pigeons and toys and any
of the thing she carries in his pockets. ,
He must not omy possess things,
but take care of them as well. The
penalty for not having what he can
call his own is that he never has
anything to give to othera Is thrift- i
less, selfish, begging, borrowing and j
tempted to steal what he would like 1
to have. Posersslons mean power and i
thrift is preparation for peace. He
cannot take care of hts own things 1
unless he has a place for them which j
is hts own. That is one of the reasons'
why a boy should have a room, and a1
trunk, and the equipment with which ;
he can take care or hts things That ;
is not the only reason he should have
a separate room, but that is enough.
What has been said about all of this :
applies especially to hts money. As i
he is expected to make money' and
possess It and use it In the future, he
must begin It, as a boy, and learn to :
do It In the right way, so as to avoid 1
the wrong way later. The very same •
principles that he is to observe then
are to be acted upon now. both be
cause they are right and because he
will not act on them, as a man, un
less he learns to act on them now.
How Is he to get It? That it a mat
ter of far-reaching Importance. He *
may properly get It In two way*~r*- j
ceive it as a gift and earn It. Both 1
ways are necessary. It should come
In the form of an allowance, given
freely and regularly. If he has to I
tease and beg for H. he getsntu train
ing, finds no law of cause and effect
and of parental forethought, gaining
no sentiment of partnership with
them. If he does not come regularly
in a dependable Way, be map , be
tempted to pet « in} a way that to m*
honest. Hie conacleOce does not awaki
as early aa hie desire# tor posesh
■Iona. I. », %
There may be objections to the al
lowance, as there are objections to
every way of doing anything. Thor#
is the danger that ha will corns to
think of it as his by right and not
a gift; and he may grow up t* lack
appreciation of what is done for him.
But there are always dangers ip good
things, and it U not impossible to
safeguard'him.
Often he can earn money without
weakening hla sense of obligation to
serve his parents or the family. J ra~
call, with the greatest pleasure, the
money my cousin and I made for our
selves and saved for his tathar. by
gathering up the apples, that Would
otherwise have gdne to waste in hla
father's orchard, and selling them on
the streets of Petersburg and giving
away what we failed to sell. - We
turned one-half the great receipts
over to the owner of the orchard and
divided the other half between us.
But it W a question, even to-day.
whether we found more pleasure in
the money we made or in the way we
made It. The passing of the lightning
rod, in my boyhood, was quite a
stroke of fortune to me. The old
rods that came down from the house
and other rods that decorated a previ
ous residence were turned ©vet- to me.
Mr. Woolley, down at the blacksmith
shop, bought them as old iron and
the Jingle of that money in my proud
pocket la sweetly echoing in my mem
ory now.
How shall he take care of it? H#
will be apt to wet rid of it fast enough.
That was an/exceptional boy, who
swallowed the five dollar gold piece,
and they applied the stomach pump t#
recover it. His Hebrew father com
plained bitterly at the boy's cupidity*
for all he could get back waa $1.90.
But as to the allowance: It must
be given in such a way as to keep him
(responsible to T»ln parents As 1|
comes regularly it cultivates in him
erder and system. A pocket book, to
keep It in, ministers to his pleasure,
maker him orderly and enables hint
to save it more easily. An account
book to set down receipts and ex
penditures in, trains him In the virtue
of accuracy. Reports of hla father
each week keep alive the sense of re
sponsibility to authority-, even for hla
own things Requiring him to save a
part of each week's allowance enable*
him to accumulate and encourages
thrift. A small reward for additional
savings will still further teach him
the value of money. A rigid refusal to
allow him to spend it. In injurious
ways, may prevent spendthrift habits.
Putting aa much aa possible every six
months in a savings bank, that wilt
pay him interest, gives him an idem
of business Meeting some at his per
sonal expenses with hts own money
wlU teach him forethought and; seif,
denial. Making some of hla own pule,
chases will teach him good Judgment
and self-reliance. By the time he fa
his own man. he will have money on
hand, and he will have learned, self
denial and economy and forethought
and patience.
* As Aelaasa Aftssauss.
Yellow, yellow, yellow now
Hangs the bough:
Yellow i* the ekjr;
Yellow In the solemn air.
Do the village windows nigh
Flare,
l/tltle pools stretch by the wall.
Yellow alt
You oan see therein.
The old year fleet down the great.
And the old years that have been
Pgjf,
—Umette Woodworth Reese.
ONE-PIECE "CORSET COVER
BY m. JAM rORD.
f Although woman Ilk* dainty underwear, moat or them do not care to apen<
many daya In the development of tkoao (amaatt, and so a pattern aa eltnplt
-fear Inehee knot meaeor% and
**r the averaga wood an
only one yard of good*
thirty-ata Inches wide
*>11 be needed la cent
(trusting aueh a sard
meat.
"X The way the material
U >• *■»« allowa the garment
■ to clins to the flgurt
7 *BU*I’r without hetnd
/ tisht, and so la pattfcmd
/ Inrty desirable twwtu
under abtrt waists" and
rammer frocks that win
a alined, » i
. This under walat' may
To nna» eueh a corset
VIRGINIAN P4TW4 COUPON,
IViindw^«•^•^*•••••4 ^
«**» MUST B* PUT ON COUPON.