The Twin City star. [volume], November 23, 1918, Image 4

About The Twin City star. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1910-19??

Image provided by: Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

                
Woman Not Only “Critter*' Sensitive About Age
WASHINGTON. —It Is a man doctrine that woman is oversensitive about
her age. And doubtless woman Is, but her brother Adnra is that same—
with this instance for a showdown: A young fellow seated in a crowded car
offered his fclace to an oldish man
who was hanging to a strap. The m PEOPLE"
oldish man declined the courtesy with . - acc-FNCIVE
a loud rudeness that caught the at- v/_\vu Mr At OLD
tention of all around. acvaii tminK-*
“Keep your seat, sir. lam not as n
old as you seem to think. You are STAND *•
The young man flushed the red of
embarrassment, sat down and turned —f nl l
his face to the window. The passen- ggyM.
gers across shoved closer and made
room for the oldish passenger. As
soon as he was settled he took the whole car into his confidence.
“Some people are too officious. I may be a little older in years, but any
body can see that I am as vigorous as the next —apd just as able to stand
as he is.”
The passengers kept neutrally noncommittal and the .young man made
no motion that he heard. Feeling the lack of proper sympathy, the oldish
man took a paper* from his pocket and began to read. Then —perhaps in a
sudden gust of realization that he had been ill natured —he leaned across
and tapped the young man on a knee.
“Say, sir, here’s my paper, if you’d like to read it.**
The young man thanked him and declined!
“But I want you to take it, sir. There’s a first-rate account of the evacua*
tion of ”
The young man refused. The oldish man insisted. Then the young man
evened up.
“I accept your apology because you must feel .pretty cheap before all
these people for Insulting a man for offering you a kindness —but your paper
can go to blank.”
And that oldish man will doubtless tell you to the end of his days that
woman is oversensitive about her age.
Which is one of the ways of Adam.
Finally Learned the Greatest of All Lessons
JUST to show that Father Time can attend to his own affairs: In one biff
perpetual motion place in this town there was an irresponsibly Joyous
office boy who simply wouldn’t grow up. He wouldn’t study, and he wouldn’t
shed his knee pant 3, and he hated girls.
m upua. yx m mm aa When he wasn’t running copy he
H B fl| Hi Ml slcstaed in the nearest swivel chair
Hg with any old thriller he could find
-crop pressed itself prodigally in forages into
paper bags of lunches that bore the
T\ trade-mark of mother and home. And
v-*.. * he absolutely scorned clean fingernails.
m They were “sissy.”
e The ihen to whom he was appor
>o tioned were addicted to fatherly warn
ings as to what happens to office boys
who do not study to become editors —but the boy scorned editors. His ambi
tion —his one great ambition —had been to climb a ladder and chalk off base
ball scores, until the electric boards came along, and after that he settled on
a future of sightseeing cars so that he could talk through a megaphone. But,
alus for well-laid plans! One day a messenger higher up dropped out and
the boy stepped into duties that allowed less time for thrillers and eats —but,
at that, he didn’t study, his prime idea being that a fellow could learn things
outside of books —which, incidentally, some mighty wise men have said before
him.
Each admonitory pill was swallowed with gay unconcern, until one day
the boy failed to show up. Another boy filed in, and that was all there was
to It until, not so long ago, they came across his name In print—ln the roll
of honor, along with those of others who fell on that day which history has
already christened “the glorious 18th of July.”
Father Time, by some inscrutable alchemy, had changed the boy Into a
man und taught him the greatest of all lessons from the Greatest of all Books:
“Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for a friend.”
Yes, There Are Things Every Fellow Should Know
THEY must have been in the self-made class, with the job imperfectly done,
or the one with the rakish hat —green felt —would never have asked the
one with the twirly cane: “Say, old man, which is right—inducted Into the
array or inducted out of it? I'm
afraid I fell down on thut word this ✓ _ '-*x (duFfi 15 RIGHT
afternoon. I was talkin’ to a little jepe-ff-) -inducted
queen about her brother who has just Ld THARMTO^
left for Camp Meade and she looked V--
at me so funnylike that hanged If I OUT OF IT*"
don’t believe I used the misfit lingo. Qf V (jjj M rt
Which oughter I had said —inducted 7 ? yrTH X 1 1
in or Inducted out, huh?” LjL ~
And the one with the twirly cane 11 fi
would never have responded as he LJ fcj
did unless he had been self-made, with
the job Imperfectly done:
“I should say that —er —well, the truth Is, it’s skipped my memory at just
this Instant —though I know there isn’t any what you might call a regular dif
ference of any account —not so’s n woman would notice it, anyhow.”
Education is a great big help. But it isn’t everything. A man may go
through life without even a bowing acquaintance with the triumvirate of the
It’s and still make a happy home and go to heaven when he dies, still
It is a great boon to be able to know without danger of offending the lit
tle queens whether a fellow ought to say inducted out of the army or in
ducted in.
Small Boy. Appallingly Direct in His Criticism
MAN'S study of man lacks the directness of childhood in Its search of God.
Take, for one illustration, a small boy—name unknown—who was sitting
on the curb Investigating a captive worm. He was such a dead-ln-earnest
v kiddle that he had to hold up a young
Kman who was brisking by: "Mister,
do you know the name of this worm 7”
Mister considered the fuzzy, ma
hogany wriggle unofficially known as
a fever worm. Then he volaed knowl
edge, which failed to convince.
"No It ain’t. Fever worms come
In the spring. This one wears the
same kinder overcoat, but It’s another
kinder worm.”
"What are you going to do to him,
son?”
"Nothin', 'cept to poke at him to see him turner 'round and run the other
way. He’s got some sense to him, but I don’t see what God wanted to make
him tor. I wonldn’ter wasted time on him, myself."
"What do you think the Lord ought to do nbout it?"
"Make mens that can fight. Over yonder at the camp, where my father
Is, they won’t hotter with no ’count men; they has to be all right to fight.
That’s what I think Ood ought to make all the time.”
A child iu a temple confounding the high priests.
And we, poor old bllnd-»>bats grown-ups, calling ourselves wise, knowing
rthe n»r*» that re kuovv
Nothing.
THE TWIN CITY STAR, MINNEAPOLIS, MINN.
Mrs. leflows j
Thanksgiving
T
BHE old Tetlow place stood
off to the east of Layton. It
had once been surrounded by
wide acres, but gradually
the growing town had en
croached on its borders;
and, bit by bit, the property had been
swallowed up, until at last the low
browed, rambling farmhouse was el
bowed by smarter town residences,
and could boast only a narrow door
yard in front, and a cramped orchard
in the rear.
“The mills had spoiled Layton,” old
Mrs. Tetlow used to say, with a dreary
shake of the head, as she watched
these changes.
The Tetlow farm had been a pros
perous one in its day, and its owners
had lived on it in quiet respectability
for many generations. But they were
all scattered und gone now —these Tet
lows —save for the one lonely old wom
an, who gazed out of the small-paned
windows. *
People said Mrs. Tetlow was grow
ing forgetful. Perhaps she was —for-
getful of the present.
It was a dreary November day. The
clouds hung low and a few scattering
snowflakes were beginning to fall.
“Real Thanksgiving weather,” mur
mured Mrs. Tetlow, as she looked out
of her front window. *
“Yes, it’s real Thanksgiving weath
er.” repeated the old lady, drawing
her small shoulder shawl closer about
her. “It’s time to be making the mince
meat.”
“Mother always did that the first
thing,” she went on, by and by, “and
today is Friday. Next week will bring
the last Thursday in the month. The
proclamation’ll be read next Sabbath.”
The knitting needles lay idle In Mrs.
Tetlow’s lap, as she rocked slowly
back and forth.
“Grandma Spencer’s folks always
came by Wednesday night,” she said,
after a reflective pause, “and brother
Peter and his wife and boys would
get here as early as 9 Thanksgiving
morning. The rest didn’t come till
nearly noon. I wonder where Peter’s
boy Is now. I wish the West weren’t
so far off. I wonder if the boy’s done
well.”
Mrs. Tetlow stopped rocking and sat
up straight in her chair.'
“Wouldn’t I like to get ready for an
other such Thanksgiving party,” she
exclaimed, a red spot burning In ei
ther cheek. “I believe I will.”
She arose, her slight figure trem
bling as she rolled up her knitting
work and thrust the needles into it.
“Let me see,” she went on musingly,
how many must I provide for? There’s
Peter and Mary and the three boys,
and Jane and Henrietta and Uncle
Solon. Nannie and her husband and
the little folks, bless ’em! and Grand
ma Spencer’s folks and Joe and Letty.
It’ll be a long tableful, but I’ll be
ready for them.”
Monday saw active preparations go
ing on in the old kitchen.
The last thldg each night before go
ing to her bed the old lady took her
wavering candle and inspected her
pantry shelves, and with every even
ing there were more toothsome goodies
to behold.
When the traveling butcher stopped
Wednesday for his usual small order,
Mrs. Tetlow followed him out to his
cart and selected the largest turkey in
his collection. The man’s eyes opened
wide.
“Expecting company, ma’am?” he
asked ns he weighed it, and the old
woman nodded gravely.
That morning the windows in the
upper chamber were thrown open to
the wind and sunshine, and sweeping
and dusting and airing of bed linen
were in order.
"Orandmn Spencer’s folks always
come by Wednesday night,” she said,
“and the rooms haven’t been used for
some time. They feel a little damp,
.so I’ll have them open all day."
Toward night Mrs. Tetlow put on
her second best gown and sat down
nenr the window to watch.
When her guests arrived, the near
est neighbor might not have known,
Grateful for Victory In War.
This Is indeed a .sad world to which
Thanksgiving day conies this year, a
world full of death and destruction,
woe and hatred, nnd ray greatest and
deepest thankfulness this year is that
Almighty Ood made It possible for me
to believe in an outcome of it all which
shall be for the ultimate welfare of. all
people. My hymn of praise is for the
faith that is in me. Otherwise, amidst
lie .day of titanic forces which use
'tun merely as pawns on a world Chess-
but a lamp was lighted in the dim
best room that evening, and at nine
o’clock the old woman took a bed
room candle In either hand and tolled
up the creaking stair. On the little
stand beside each bed she placed a
brass candlestick, and, having turned
back the sheets, went out again, (jaur
muring a soft “good-night.”
Mrs. Tetlow arose at dawn, and be
fore it was time to prepare breakfast
she had dressed her turkey and set it
aside, ready for the oven.
About nine o’clock she began to lay
her table.
Having smoothed out every wrinkle
in the cloth, she gathered all her ge
ranium blossoms and put them In the
center of the table In a glass bowL
Then the silver, which had all been
polished the day before, was brought
forth from its canton flannel wrap
pings, and Great-grandma Tetlow’s
blue china was liftes down from -the
shelves of the china closet.
“How good it Is to see all these
things out again!” exclaimed the old
lady, surveying the result of her labor
with pardonable pride; “and It’s right
good to have company once more,” she
added, with a little sigh; “I’ve eaten
alone so long.”
“I’ve nothing to do now,” she said,
“but to sit at the front window and
watch for the folks to come. I’ll be
able to see them far up the meadow
road.”
A few minutes later she was star
tled by hearing a knock at the front
door, and, quite trembling with the
shock, she arose to open it.
“Good morning, Mrs. Tetlow.” It
was Mrs. Clifford, the young doctor’s
wife, who spoke. “Good morning, Mrs.
Tetlow. Isn’t this a beautiful Thanks
giving day? Madam Clifford Is out in
the carriage and she wants to take
you home to have dinner with ijs.
Please say you’ll come; and let me
get your bonnet and shawl for you.”
Mrs. fretlow looked down Into the
bright young face, with a dreamy hap
piness in her own, as fehe slowly shook
her head.
“You’re real good,” she said, “and
please tell Madam Clifford I’m Just as
much obliged to her, but I can’t come
today. I’m —I’m looking for company.”
There was a ring of tremulous pride
In the old voice that went to the
heart of the young woman. She look
ed up Into the wrinkled old face and
noted the strange glow of content
and far-off happiness in the old eyes.
Mrs. Clifford remembered it aftenvard
with a sense of awe.
As she turned to go now she saw,
through the open door, a corner of the
long table, all ready for dinner.
“I’m so glad for you, Mrs. Tetlow!”
she exclaimed Impulsively. “I hope
you will have a pleasant Thanksgiving
day.” Then she hurried back to her
carriage, and Mrs. Tetlow returned to
her rocking-chair by the window.
“They’re real late,” she murmured
to herself now and then, and a new,
strange weariness and numbness crept
over her as she sat and waited, her
dim vision still wandering far up the
meadow road.
Suddenly she started forward with
outstretched arms. “Peter!” she cried,
"Mary!” and then sank back feebly In
her chair. "I’m right glad to see you
all," she faltered, “but I seem to be a
little tired. Just lay off your things
and draw up near the fire. It Is grow
ing chilly.” She drew her shawl clos
er about her, wlth # a little shiver as
she spoke.
board, I would see nothing bnt doom
nnd despair. Unless we believe that
wrong Is going to triumph over right
In this world, uuless we believe that
Injustice Is going to triumph. over
righteousness, unless we believe that
God Is mocked, unless we believe that
the wheat of the Kingdom is going to
produce a harvest of tares, unless we
believe that Calvary was a vain sac
rifice, and that Cod Is going to be de
ffated In hl« good purposes, w'e can
thanli God this day for the mighty
fsltb which sees the Invisible and
“Johnny, Just put another stick in
the stove; that’s a good boy.” She
closed her eyes a moment, murmuring
softly to herself, “I musn’t give out
now; its nearly dinner time. I’ll just
rest till the others come.”
But soon she, leaned forward again,
a Joyous smile on her lips.
“Nannie!” she exclaimed, “and the
blessed baby! I didn’t see you come
in. Sit here, child; I’ll hold the little
one while you rest,” and she began
to croon softly as she rocked. “It I*
cold,” she murmured again, “real cold;
but then It’s Thanksgiving weather.”
Several moments slipped by, while
the old clock alone broke the stillness;
then Mrs. Tetlow raised her head. *1
smell lavender,” she said. “Aunt Hen
rietta ! I knew you had come. I
smelled the lavender.”
“Grandma Spencer’s In the best
room,” she added. “She came at sun
down last evening and she seems real
smart. What, Joe, you here, too! Did
yt>u come In the back way? Uncle
Solon and pa are In the barn, aren’t
they?”
An anxious look suddenly clouded
the sunshine In her eyes. “Nannie,”
she whispered, “will you just take a
look at things In the kitchen. I seem
to be little tired, but there’s nothing
to do. I’ll come soon.”
Her gaze wandered up the “meadow
road” again, the joyous look returning,
“They’re coming!” she cried at length.
“They’re coming; I can see the sleigh.”
Then she turned, as though some one
had touched her elbow, and started
back wonderingly.
“My little Mary!” she faltered, with
dimming eyes, “my little Mary, with
her old rag baby! I thought—oh, fath
er, John, here Is our little Mary!”
With a beautiful gesture she clasped
the child of her youth to her heart,
and when she raised her eyes again It
was to murmur, “Mother, father, Let
ty, Eben —what a grand Thanksgiv
ing ! I didn’t count on seeing you all—
why, the room Is full —full—but I
have enough—•**
* * •• * *
The sun had gone down when Dr.
Clifford drove by the old Tetlow place,
on his way to see some patient.
“So the old lady Is entertaining,” ho
said to himself, remembering his
wife’s story, and then, glancing at the
house, he drew his horse up suddenly.
"No lights!” he exclaimed, and an in
tuitive lmplse made him stop. “I can’t
seem to go by,” he said, “I must Just
run In and see if all is well with the
old lady.”
He. hurried up the path and lifted
the heavy knocker, but no one an
swered. Then the doctor opened the
door and walked In.
“Mrs. Tetlow,” he called, but the
loud tick of the clock alone responded.
Finally a sleepy cat emerged from the
kitchen and rubbed against his leg.
Dr. Clifford struck a match and
lighted a lamp that stood on the hall
table. Then he passed Into the slt
tingroom. The fire In the air-tight
stove had gone out and the room had
grown cold. Through a half-open door
he could see dimly a long table, laid
for many guests, bnt no plate had been
disturbed, i
The doctor raised the lamp above
his head and turnwl toward the front
window. In the high-backed rocker a
slender, motionless figure leaned back
among the cushions, but the old house
was wrapped In peaceful stillness;
for, with a wonderful smile upon her
white lips, Mrs. Tetlow had gone forth
with her Thanksgiving guests.
trusts Its God in war’s dark hour.—
Exchange.
Life's Object.
The image of Christ that is form
ing within us —that is life’s on*
charge. Let every project stand aside
for that. "Till Christ be fogmed” no
man’s work Is finished, no religion
crowned, no life has fulfilled its end.
Is the Infinite task begun? When, how,
ere we to be different? Time cannot
change men. Christ can. Wher.rfor*
put on Christ.
IMPROVED UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL
SDWSOIOOL
Lesson
(By REV. P. B. FITZWATER, D. D H
Teacher wf English Bible in the Mood/
Bible Institute of Chicago.)
(Copyright, 1918, Western Newspaper
Union.)
LESSON FOR NOVEMBER 24
JACOB AND ESAU RECONCILED.
LESSON TEXT—Genesis 33:1-11.
GOLDEN TEXT—A soft answer turneth
away wrath.—Proverbs 15:1.
DEVOTIONAL READING—PsaIms 46.
ADDITIONAL MATERIAL—Genesis 32:
8-33:28.
From Bethel, Jacob went to Padan
oram to his mother’s people. Here he
served Laban for twenty years—four
teen years for his wives and six years
f6r certain wages. In his dealings
\Ath Laban he finds his match—two
schemers get together—“diamond cuts
diamond.”
I. Jacob Departs for Canaan (31:
31-21).
The time had come for Jacob to
go back to his kindred in the land of
Canaan. The Lord instructed him so
to do (v. 13). Though going forward
under the direction of God, his Jacob
nature caused him to take clandestine
leave of Laban. When Laban realized
the situation he went in hot pursuit,
but God appeared unto him in a dream
and warned him against any act of vi
olence toward Jacob. They formed a
compact and Laban returned home.
11. Jacob on fhe Way (chapter 32.)
Laban’s return freed Jacob from
the enemy who was pursuing him from
behind, but he faced a more formida
ble one in the person of Esau.
1. Jacob meeting the angels (v. 1).
Two camps of angels met him to
give him the assurance that God would
be with him according to his promise.
Notwithstanding this, he continued to
scheme. He sent a. deputation with a
message of good cheer to Esau.
2. Jacob praying (vv. 9-12).
Esau made no reply to Jacob’s mes>
sage, but went forward with an army
of men, four hundred strong, to meet
Jacob. Jacob is In great distress,
therefore he casts himself upon God
!n prayer. This is a fine specimen' of
effectual prayer. It is short, direct,
and earnest. (1) He reminds God of
his command issued for his return,
and also of the covenant promise
(31:3). Surely God would not issue
a command and then leave him in such
a strait. (2) Pleads God’s promise
as to his personal safety (v. 9, cf.
Genesis 28:13-15, 31-33). In our pray
ing we should definitely plead God’s
promises in his word, on the ground
of covenant relationship in Christ.
(3) Confesses unworthiness (v. 10).
In this he shows the proper spirit of
humility. (4) Presents definite peti
tions (v. 11). He lays before the Lord
the definite request to be delivered
from the wrath of Esau.
3. The angel of Jehovah wrestling
with Jacob (32:24-32).
In God’s school of discipline, Ja
cob Is making some improvement, but
still he Is under the sway of self
will and self-trust. Though he had
laid the matter definitely before the
Lord, he thought that his scheming
would render God some assistance.
Accordingly, he sent presents ahead
to appease the anger of Esau. While
Journeying along, a man met him and
wrestled with him, but Jacob knew not
who he was. Perhaps he thought that
Easu had pounced upon him in the
dark. He exerted every ounce of
strength In what he thought was the
struggle for his very life. The morn
ing was approaching, and still the
wrestlers continued, Jacob not know
ing it was Jehovah manifest in hu
man form. This is the second crisis
In Jacob’s life. He did not dare to
enter the promised land under the con
trol of his self-sufficiency; his selfish
will must be broken; his Jacob-nature
must be changed. God humbled him
by dislocating his thigh. When thus
humbled, he quit, wrestling and clung
to God. 'He got the blessing when he,
conscious of his weakness, laid hold
of God. j
4. Jacob gets a new name (v. 28).
He was no longer. Jacob, the sup
planter; bnt Israel, a prince of God.
His new name was given him after
he had a new nature. He came|face
to face with God, and face to face
with himself, and fought the battle to
a finish. We must have the new na
ture before we can enter the place of
blessing. Jacob came to realize that
he had been struggling with God, for
he called the place “Peniel," which
means “face to face with God."
111. Jacob Meets Esau (33:1-11).
God had evidently wrought wltft
Esau, for when Jacob approached him
the sting of bitterness was gone. It
was not Jacob’s scheming thdt re
moved Esau’s anger, but the action of
the Supernatural upon his heart. At
Jabbok Jacob got right with God, so
when he met Esau It was an easy
matter to get right with him. When
we are right with God It is an easy
matter to get right with our brother.
In This Life.
We hear much of love to God. Christ
spoke much of love to man. We make
a great deal of peace with heaven.
Christ made much of peace on earth.
Religion is not a strange or added
thing, but the inspiration of the secu
lar life, the breathing of an eternal
spirit through this temporal world.
Man and His Faith.
Faith is the substratum of life; so
that a man will be as he believes, and
will believe as he lives.—Wm. M. Tay
lor.