The progressive farmer. [volume], August 30, 1904, Page 6, Image 6

About The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904

Image provided by: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill Library, Chapel Hill, NC

                
THE PROGRESSIVE FARMER
' Tuesday, August 30, .1904.
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THE HOME CIRCLE
Damsel Dorothy : A Family Portrait.
Grandmother's mother; her age, I guess,
Thirteen summers, or something less;
Girlish bust, but womanly air;
-Smooth, square forehead with uprolled hair.
Lips that lover has never kissed;
Taper fingers and slender wrist;
Hanging sleeves of stiff brocade;
So they painted the little maid.
O, Damsel Dorothy! Dorothy Q.!
Strange is the gift that I owe to you;
Such a gift as never a king
Save to a daughter or son might bring
All my tenure of heart and hanoj,
All my title to house and land;
N Mother and sister and child and wife
And joy and sorrow and death and life!
What if a hundred years ago
Those close-shut lips had answered No,
When forth the tremulous question came
That cost the maiden her Norman name,
And under the folds that look so still
The bodice swelled with the bosom's thrill?
Should I be I, or would it be
One-tenth another, to nine-tenths me?
Soft is the breath of a maiden's Yes ;
Not the light gossamer stirs with less;
But never a cable that holds so fast
Through all the battles of wave and blast,
And never an echo of speech or song
That lives in the babbling air so long! . i
There were tones in the voice that whispered then
You may hear to-day in a hundred men.
Oliver Wendell Holmes.
Mr. Dooley on the Political Prospects.
"I see," said Mr. Hennessy, "that the dimmy
crats have gr-reat confidence."
"They have," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' dimmy
crats have gr-reat confidence, th' rapublicans
ar-re sure, th' popylists are hopeful, th' prohybi
tionists look f'r a landslide or a flood or whativer
you may call a prohybition victhry, an' th' socyl
ists think this may be their year. That's what
makes pollytics th' gr-reat game an' th' on'y wan
todhTive-duII care away. It's a game iv hope, iv
jolly-ye'er-neighbor, a confidence game. If ye
get a bad hand at poker, ye lay it down. But if
ye get a band hand at pollytics, ye bet ye'er pair
iv deuces as blithe as an Englishman who has
just larned the game out iv th' spobrtin' columns
iv th' London Times. J ye don't win fair, ye
may win foul. If ye don't win, ye may tie an'
getj th' money in th' confusion. If it wasn't such
a game, wud there be dimmycrats in Vermont,
- raypublicans in Texas, an' prohybitionists in th'
stock yards ward? Ivry year men crawl out iv th'
hospitals where they've been since last iliction
day to vote th' raypublican ticket in Mississippi.
There's no record iv it but it's a fact. To-day th'
dimmycrats will on'y concede Vermont, Maine an'
Pinnsylvanya to th' raypublicans, an' the raypub
licans concede Texas, Allybammy an' Missippi to
th' dimmycrats. But it's arley yet. Wait awhile.
Th' wurruk iv th' campaign has not begun. Both
sides is inclined to be pessimistic. Th' consarva
tive business man, who thinks that if a. little
money cud be placed in Yazoo City, th prejudice
against Rosenfelt, which is on'y skin deep anny
how, cud be removed, hasn't turned up at head
quarthers. About th' middle iv October, the ray
publican who concedes Texas to th' dimmycrats
will be dhrummed out iv th' party as a thraitor
an' ye'll hear that th' dimmycratic party in Main
is so cheered be th' prospects that his f rinds can't
keep him sober.
"Th' life iv a candydate is th' happiest there
is. If I want anything pleasant said about' me, I
have to say it mesilf. There's a hundred thousan
freemen ready to say it to a candydate an' say it
strong. They ask nawthin' in raythurn that will
require a civil service examination. He starts
with a pretty good opinyon iv himself baser!
what his mother said iv him as a baby, but be th'
time he's heerd th' first speech iv congratulation
in
on
he begins to think he had a cold an' indifFreht
parent. Ninety per cint iv th' people who come
to see him tell him he's th'. mos' poplar thing that
iver was an' will carry th' counthry like a tidal
wave. He don't let th' others in. If annybody
says annything about him less friendly thin Jacob
Riis, he knows he's either a sore-head or is in th'
pay iv th' other campaign comity. Childher an
dogs ar-re named afther him, pretty women an'
some iv th' other kind thry to kiss him an' th'
newspapers publish pitchers iv him as he sets in
his libry with his brows wrinkled in thought iv
how fine a man he is. Th' opposition pa-apers
don't get up to th' house an' he niver sees himself
with a face like Sharkey or reads that th' reason
he takes a bath in th' Hudson is because he is too
stingy to buy a bath-tub f 'r th' house' an' prefers
to sponge on th' gr-reat highway belongm' to th'
people." Copyright, 1904, by F. P. Dunne and
McClure, Phillips & Co.
The Last Days of August.
. Horse-mint is blooming now a dull pink and
yellow flower, with road dust on its leaves. Most
delicate is its perfume and suggestive of autumn
and its mellow fruitfulness. It loves to grow
in old lanes and pastures among the haunts of
men and herds. Also, on every hillside the golden
rod is heralding the fall o' the leaf The swamps
are shot with the brilliant yellow of poplar and
deep red gum leaves. Here and there a troop of
black-eyed-susans nod like flirts to the breeze.
But these few scouts do not argue that Queen
Summer has laid down her sceptre. The bee still
swings on her clover blossom; oxeyes yet sprinkle
her grassy places with white; her maypops, or
passion flowers, show combined the bloom and the
fruit; and her migrant singers, who will brook
no other rule than hers, are there.
August, therefore, is the month of transition.
The pirate Sa"xons of autumn have begun stealth
ily to scatter themselves along the coast of sum
mer, and will soon usurp her reign. Full of de
licious hints of fall and harvest a August is,
she yet culminates the heats of the year and con
tinues to hold out to sweltering humanity the sum-
mers invitation to cool woods and seashore,
mountain and stream. These slumbrous, sultry
noons, with a hot pavement under him and a sky
01 brass above, what dweller m the town would
not. dearly like to be f
"Where tides of grass break into foam of flowers,
Or where the wind s feet shine along the sea ?"
-J. C. McNeill, in Charlotte Observer.
Self Pity is Deadly.
Self-pity is the mark of deteriorating ehnraeter.
It is a sure sign of the dominance of egotism and
of the decay of moral vitality. So long as you
retain a sense of proportion, so long as your
mmd is healthy and your judgment sound, you
will never sink into the mental sloucrh of thoP
who are self-pitying. You have a buoyancy, a
good-numor and a generosity of spirit which ena
ble you to erive and take without anv residuum of
malice, and to recognize the rights and wrongs
ot others as clearly as you recognize your own.
If things go amiss, and keeD on erettiner worse and
worse, you rouse yourself up to face the inevita
ble with courage and a stout heart. Meet misfor
tune in the snirit of the fichter. of the IrmVht
who is not only brave but debonair, and even if in
tne end you are beaten, you keep your self-respect
and the respect of others. You are like a funeral
who yields to overwhelming numbers, and then
draws ott nis iorces m good order, defeated but
not demoralized, and ready at some future time
to fight again. Even if ill success should make
you stern and harsh and unforgiving, this is not
a hopeless state of mind, for it is at least com
patible with strength; -and if prosperity return
once more, then the old hopefulness and the old
geniality will reassert themselves, just as the buds
and blossoms force their way into the world when
tne warm spring sunshine puts an-end to winter.
Bllt. if VOn lfi VftiireoU oi'nl, 1 -f 4--f,,l
habit of self-pity, then there is absolutely no re
turn tor you, no restoration, no renewal of sanity;
you slide down and down the slorA loaintr hit hxr
bit your moral fiber, your intellectual courage and
your sen-respect. twentieth Century Home.
Goods Hot Delivered. :
Once upon a time, when Francis Wilson didn't
have as comfortable living quarters' as he now has,
he went room-hunting where rates were reason
able. In one place which he, inspected, he found
a red-headed landlady who was extremely persist
ent, although the room she had to offer was about
the last one Wilson would have chosen to live in.
He didn't want to say so, however, and was de
parting without stating definitely what he would
do, notwithstanding the fact that the eager land
lady did not want him to escape in that man
ner.
"Will you take the room?" she asked, pinning
him down to a positive answer.
"Urn er," hesitated Wilson, crawfishing toward
the door. "Thank you "very much, madam, tTiank
you, no, I won't take it now; can't you perhaps
send it to me ?" Collier's Weekly.
Taking Him at His Word.
Joseph Jefferson in his biography relates what
was probably the last jest of Artemus Ward.
When the famous wit lay dying at Southampton,
he was attended by his devoted friend, Tom Rob
ertson, the author of "Caste," who was also a
friend of Jefferson.
"Just before Ward's death," writes Mr. Jeffer
son, "Robertson poured out some medicine in a
glass, and offered it to his friend. j
''Ward said, 'My dear-Tom, I can't take that
dreadful stuff.'
" 'Come, come,' said Robertson, urging him to
swallow the nauseous drug, 'there's a good fellow.
Do, now, for my sake. You know I would do
anything for you.'
"'Would you?' said Ward, feebly, as he
stretched out his hand to grasp his friend's, per
haps for the last time.
- " 'I would indeed,' said Robertson.
" 'Then you take it," said Ward.
"The humorist passed away a few hours later."
Woman's Home Companion.
When Beauty Fades.
Hamilton W. Mable always is interesting and
in his literary talk to girls he is especially so.
The following sensible suggestions from Mr.
Mabie's page in the Ladies' Home Journal will be
appreciated by Home Circle readers:
"What shall I read?" is a much more im
portant question that ''What shall I wear?" but
it is to be fearett that many girls think other
wise. It is just as much one's duty to be attrac
tive as to be good, and dress and manners are
of . much greater importance than some people
suppose.
We have not only to live in this, world, but we
have also to live with others. Half the pleasure
of living comes from our relations with others;
from the variety, interest, charm which they
bring us. It is one of our best pieces of good
fortune to live in a community in which the peo
ple are intelligent, well-dressed, courteous and
interesting, and it is every one's duty to help
make such a community by being intelligent,
well dressed, courteous and interesting. The
man who thinks he is showing superior strength
of character by being churlish simply reveals
his ignorance.
Beauty often goes early in life, and there are
few more pathetic figures than the women who
have lost it and have nothing to put in its place.
The wise girl lays up a store of attractions
against the time when those with which she
started may be lost, and there is no better way
of making one's self an agreeable, companion
for others and for one's self than by con
stant reading of good books. One of the finest
compliments ever paid a woman was the remark
of an eminent man concerning a well-known wo
man of his time, that to know her was a liberal
education. No woman can have the; quality of
mind which makes association with her not only
delightful, but stimulating and educational, un
less she is well read; and the well-read woman
must read constantly and with intelligence.
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