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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (March 8, 1914)
6 THE SUNDAY OREGOXIAK", PORTLATTD, MARCH 8, 1914. e Servo. P rO hi e IT! .. Jbn Geo.V . Hob drl rrt J WHEN Peaches and I ret tired of the Big Town tired of Its noises and hullabaloo; tired of feeing tagged by taxis as we cross a treet; tired of watching; grocers and butchers hoisting1 higher the highest cost of living that's our cue to grab a choo-choo and breeze out to Uncle T-eter Grant's farm and bungalow In the wilds of Westchester, which he calls Troolyrooral. Just to even matters up Uncle Peter and his wife visit us from time to time in our amateur apartment In the Big Town. Uncle Peter Is a very stout old gen tleman. When he squeezes Into our little flat the walls act as If they were bow-legged. Uncle Peter always goes through the folding doors sideways, and every time lie sits down the man In the apartment below us kicks because we move the piano so often. Aunt Martha Is Uncle Peter's wife and she weighs more .and breathes of tener. When the two of them visit our bird cage at the same time the Jani tor has to go out and stand In front of the building with a view to catch ing It If It falls. When we reached TTOolyrooral we found that "Cousin Elsie" Schulz was also a visitor there. "Cousin Elsie" Is a sort of privi leged character In the family, having lived with Aunt Martha for over 20 years as a sort of housekeeper. They call her "Cousin, Elsie" Juit to make It more dlffioult. Three or four yeans ago Elsie mar ried Gustavo Bierbauer and quit her Job. "Cousin Elsie" believes that con versation was Invented for her ex clusive use, and the way she can grab a bundle of the English language and break it up is a caution. Lianguage Is the same to Elsie as a alphon is to a highball and that's a whole lot. Two years after their marriage old uusiavc scoppea living so aDruptiy that the Coroner had to sit on him. The post mortem found out that Gustave had died from a rush of words to his brain-pan. The Coroner also found, upen further examination, that all of these words had formerly belonged to Elsie, with the exception of a few which were once the property of Gustave's favorite bartender. After Gustave's exit. Aunt Martha tried to get Elsie back on her Job, but - the old Dutch had her eye on Herman Schulz, and finally married him. So now every once in a while Elsie moseys over from Plain field, N. J., where she lives with Herman, and proceeds to sew a lot of pillow slips and things for Aunt Martha. One morning while Peaches and 1 were at breakfast, Elsie meandered In, bearing In her hand a wedding Invita tion which Herman had forwarded to her from Plainfleld. Being, as I say. a privileged charac ter, ehe does pretty much as she likes around the bungalooza. Elsie read the invitation: "Mr. und Mrs. Rudolph Ganderkiirds request der honor of your presence at der marriage of delr daughter. Verbena, to Galahad Schalzenberger, at der home of der bride's parents, Plalnfield, N. J. March Eixteenth. R. S. V. P." "Veil," said Elsie, "I know der Gan derkurds und I know delr daughter. Verbena, und I know Galahad Schmal- VhsA h There Are as Many Answers as Victims Each to His Taste, From the Tango Down, but Girl With Sympathy Leads. BY RITA REESE. A GIRL who signs herself "A Would-Be Belle" writes to ask what qualities a man likes best In a woman. "Do they," she naively inquires, "like a blonde better than a brunette? And do you think vivacity appeals to them more than the home making instinct? Do they like girls who tango or those who cultivate their minds? In short, I am anxious to know what my cue Is as a debutante, or I shall be frank and tell you that I have ambitions to be known as a girl that men like." I wonder what sort of girl men do like! I wonder! Since no one could hope to get a true answer to this masculine riddle from a woman, I have made it my busi ness to ask a number of men what kind of women appeal to their sex. "What trait In a woman appeals most to a man?" I asked the first man I met. "Character," he replied. I laughed In his face, it was so ob viously absurd. "Character first," he amended, "and certainly beauty. One might say," he considered "that beauty attracts a man first and character holds him after ward." Is this true? Certainly the man who made the assertion is one whose judg ment I respect. Truly, I believe that lie is the sort whom character would attract and continue to hold. But is he one of the few or a representative of the many? I asked a man who is a power in business what men admire most in women, and he replied "loyalty." "To whom?" "To themselves," he replied, "and to each other. Particularly to each other.'' He did not stop at this. "It is the quality that appeals to me first in a woman," he said. "I find It is a trait that few women possess. They can be loyal to a man, but when it is a sister woman they do not come up Jo the mark. I've noticed this for years. Women are not generous foes. They do not hesitate to use the small weap ons of ridicule and Jealousy, veiled as pity, to undermine another woman's value In the eyes of the man to whom they may be talking. "To my mind," lie said, "the woman zenberger; he's a floor-walker in Bauerhaupt's grocery store, but I doan'd know vot it is dot R. S. V. P. yet" . I gently kicked Peaches on the in step under the table, and said to Elsie, "Well, that is a new one on me. Are you sure it isn't B. & O. or the C. R. R. of N. J.? I've heard of those two rail roads in New Jersey, but I never heard of the R. S. V. P." For the first time in her life since she's been able to grab a sentence be tween her teeth and shake the pro nouns out of It. Elsie was fazed. She kept looking at the Invitation and saying to herself, "R: B. V. P.! Vot is it? I know der honor of your pres ence; I know der bride's parents, but I don't know R. S. V. P." All that day Elsie wandered through the house muttering to herself: "R. S. V. P.I Vot is it? Is it some secret be tween the bride and groom? R. S. V. P.l It aln'd my initials, because they begin mit E. S. Vot Is dot R. S. V. P.? Vot is it7 Vot is it?" That evening we were all at dinner when Elsie rushed in with a cry of joy. "I got it!" she said. "I haf untied der meaning of dot R. S. V. P. It means Real Silver Veddlng Presents!" I was Just about to drink a glass of water, so I changed my mind and nearly choked to death. Peaches tried to say something, which resulted In a gurgle in her throat, while Uncle Peter fell off his chair and landed on a cat which had never done him any harm. Elsie's interpretation of that wed ding Invitation Is going to set Herman Bchulz back several dollars, or I'm not a foot high. And maybe they don't have their troubles at Troolyrooral with the serv ant problem. It's one hard problem that and no The Lure of The who ridicules another woman,. seeming ly in a spirit of fun but in reality to place her in an "unfavorable light, is guilty of a petty, meanness that so turns me against her that no matter how fine her other qualtles may be they are nil in my eyes. Admires Loyalty. "In a business way," he said, "I am thrown with a number of young women stenographers, private secretaries and general office assistants. The test I always apply to any girl In my employ is her attitude toward the other women in the office. She never suspects my motives, for I go about it very subtly. On one occasion I 'had failed after two months to get a girl I was grilling in this way to say something about any other woman in the office. There was one woman above her whom I knew did not like the girl. Her enmity was ill- , concealed, but the girl did not retaliate in any way. One day the older woman made a mistake, and I put the girl to work to rectify it while the other was out of the office. I even went so far as to give lier an excellent opportunity to criticise her superior. She did not do this. I pushed her still further, for my curiosity impelled me to . study her psychologically. - ' "How' it is," I asked, "that you de fend this woman, when I have my rea sons for suspecting that you are not friends and that you do not like her?" Her eyes blazed as she turned on me. "It is true," she admitted, "that I do not like her. But that is a personal matter. I am defending her merely in a business way to you. So long as she has been in the office I've never known her to make a mistake before. She does her work well and is conscien tious. I admire her for that. And no matter what my feeling is for her per sonally I wouldn't allow anyone to dis parage her in my presence." "What is it I admire most , in a wo man?" The next man I asked repeated the question thoughtfully. "It's neat ness. I believe they call it 'grooming these days. But when I was young they used the old-fashioned adjective. 'As neat as a pin,' that's the highest praise I can give a woman. It covers such a variety of things. Her hair shines and it isn't frizzed up; her skin is smooth and clear and guiltless of paint, and if she powders she's artist enough to con- body seems to get the right answer. One morning later on Peaches and I were out on the top porch drinking in the glorious air and chatting with Hep Hardy, who had come out to spend Sun day with us, when Aunt Martha came bustling out, followed by Uncle Peter, who, in turn, was followed by Lizzie Joyce, their latest cook. Lizzie wore a new lid, trimmed with prairie grass and field daisies, hanging like a shade over the left lamp; she had a grouchy-looking grip in one hand and a green umbrella with black freckles in the other. She was made up to catch the first train that sniffed into the station. Aunt Martha whispered to us plain tively, "Lizzie has been here only two days and this makes the seventh time she has started for town." Busy Lizzie took the center of the stage and scowled at her audience. "I'm takin' the next train for town, mem!" she announced with considerable bitterness. Uncle Peter made a brave effort to scowl back at hor, but she flashed her lanterns at him and he fell back two paces to the rear. "What is it this time, Lizzie?" In quired Aunt Martha Lizzie put the grouchy grip down, folded her arms and said, "Oh, I have me grievances!" Uncle Peter sidled up to Aunt Mar tha and said in a hoarse whisper: "My dear, this shows a lack of firmness on your part. Now leave everything to me and let me settle this obstreperous servant once and for all!" Uncle Peter crossed over and got in the limelight with Lizzie. "It occurs to me, he began in pol ished accents, "that this is an occa sion upon which I should publicly point out to you the error of your r ceal her art: her hands are the hands of a lady, and her feet are shod as a lady's feet should be shod. "By that I mean her shoes are al ways as spick and span as a man's. Whatever she wears it is immaculate. Her frock may be of coarse material, but it is well cut and she has her clothes pressed as a man has his clothes pressed; and, well" be hesitated "my ways, and send you back to your hum ble station with a better knowledge of your status In this household. "S'cat!" said Lizzie, and Uncle Peter began to fish for his next line. "I want you to understand," he went on, "that I pay you your wages!" "Sure, if you didn't," was Lizzie's co,meback, "I'd land on you good and hard, that I would. What else are you here for, you fathead?" "Fathead!" echoed Uncle Peter in astonishment. "Peter, leave her to me," pleaded Aunt Martha. But Uncle Peter rushed blindly on to destruction. "Elizabeth," he said, sternly, "In view of your most unrefined and unlady like language it behooves me to reprimand you severely. I will, there fore " Then Lizzie and the green umbrella struck a Casey-at-the-bat pose, and cut In, "G'wan away from me with your dime novel talk or I'll place the back of me unladylike hand on your Jowls!" "Peter!" warningly exclaimed the perturbed Aunt Martha. "Yes, Martha; you're right," the old gentleman said, turning hastily. "I must hurry and finish my correspond ence before the morning mail goes." And he faded away. "It isn't an easy matter to get serv ants out here," Aunt Martha whispered to us. "I must humor her. Now, Liz zie, what's wrong?" "You told me, mem, that I should have a room with a southern expos ure,", said the Queen of the Bungalow. "And Isn't the room as described?" inquired Aunt Martha. "The room Is all Tight, but I don't Modern Maid For The Modern Mor? ideal woman always wears frilly white things at her neck and wrists. And her gloves don't forget her gloves by her gloves I can always tell a lady." This man is not alone in the groom ing test. Most men notice something about a woman's dress first. I think a woman's dress should be simple and perfect and forgotten. The real char acter of .the woman, though It may be Oasis rsfof7s care for the exposure," said the Prin cess of Porkchops. "Well, what's wrong?" Insisted our patient Auntie. "Sure," said the Baroness of Bread pudding, "the room is bo exposed, mem, that every breeze from the North Pole Just natchully hikes in there and keeps me settin' up in bed all night shiverin' like I was shakin' dice for the drinks. When I want that kind of exercise I'll hire out as chambermaid in a cold storage. I'm a cook, mem, it's true, but I'm no relation to Doctor Cook, and 1 ain't eager to sleep in a room where even a Polar bear would be growlin' for a fur coat." "Very well. Lizzie," said Aunt Martha, soothingly. "I'll have storm windows put on at once and extra quilts sent to the room, and a gas stove if you wish." "All right, mem," said the Countess of Cornbeef, removing the lid. "I'll stay; but keep that husband of yours with the woozy lingo out of the kit chen, because I'm a nervous woman I am that!" And then the Duchess of Devilled kidneys got a strangle hold on her green umbrella and ducked for the grub foundry. Aunt Martha sighed and went in the house. "Hep," I said: "this scene with Her Highness of Clamchowder ought to. be an awful warning to you. No man should get married these days unless he's sure his wife can Juggle the fry ing pan and take a fall out of an egg beater. They've had etgnt cooks In eight days, and every time a new face comes in the kitchen the coalscuttle screams with fright. "You can see where they've worn a new trail across the lawn on the re treat to the depot. "It's an awful thing. Hep! Our pal ates are weak from sampling different styles of mashed potatoes. "We had one last week who an swered roll-call when you yelled Phyl lis. "Isn't that a peach of a handle for a kitchen queen with a map like the Bor- indicated by the way she gets herself up, is not always easy to read by ex ternals. And the man who is go'.ng on a still hunt for the "golden gill" had better look inside the binding of the books and see whether the contents page pleases him equally as well. Another man told me that the only thlg that mattered so far as he was concerned was sympathy. o f7ske of? The, Slberct. ough cf the Bronx on a dark night. "She came here well recommended by herself. She said she knew how to cook backward. "We believed her after the first meal, because that's how she cooked it. "Phyllis was a very inventive girl. She could cook anything on earth or in the waters underneath the earth, and she proved it by trying to mix tenpenny nails with the baked beans. "When Phyllis found there was no shredded oats in the house for break fast she changed the cover of the -wash-tub into sawdust and sprinkled it with the whisk broom, chopped fine. "It wasn't a half bad breakfast food of th home-made kind, but every time I took a drink of water the sawdust used to float up in my throat and tickle me. "The first and only day she was with us Phyllis squandered two dollars' worth of eggs trying to make a lemon meringue potpie. "She tried to be artistic with this; but one of the eggs was old and nerv ous and it slipped. "Uncle Peter asked Phyllis if she could cook some Hungarian goulash, and Phyllis screamed, 'No. my parents have been Swedes all their lives!' Then she ran him across the' lawn with the carving knife. "Aunt Martha went in the kitchen to ask what was for dinner, and Phyllis got back at her, 'I'm a woman, it is true, but I will show you that I can keep a secret!' "When the meal came on the table we were compelled to keep the secret with her. "It looked like Irish stew, tasted like clam chowder and behaved like a bad boy. "On the second day it suddenly oc curred to Phyllis that she was work ing, so she handed in her resigna tion, handed Hank, the gardener, a jolt in his cafe department, handed out a lot of unnecessary talk, and left us flat Does He Choose the Tangoette or the Suf fragette, the Girl Who Can Cook or the One Who Is a Good Sport? "Eve wasn't a woman or a companion to Adam." he said, "until God blew up her spirit and gave her grace to under stand and sympathize. The same rule holds today. A woman without sym pathy is a flower without perfume. She may be as beautiful as Aphrodite, as learned as Pallas Athene, as seductive as Helen of Troy, yet if she lacks the divine spark that makes her man's mate and comforter she falls short of being an ideal woman. But given sym pathy, she may lack all the others and still carry off the best catch of the season and keep him tied to her apron strings, happy ever afterward." Whether this is true or not. the fact remains that many of us have known women with some compelling charm that wo were unable to analyze. Acer tain woman was a belle for years, and that in spite of the fact that she was poor and not a beauty. All the girls in her set used to laugh about her power over men. "She doesn" traise a finger to fasci nate them," one girl said. "We talk our heads off and pretend to be in high spirits and dress to death and do every thing we can to attract them, yet the minute she comes Into the room and smiles every man leaves us and flocks to her. She is a honey pot and they are the bees. What i3 her spell?" Vampire Women. "Sympathy," returned one of the men who was a victim or the same "spell." "She doesn't think about herself. I don't believe she knows she's attrac tive. She draws because she doesn't try to make of herself a magnet to at tract any one. She is simply herself and Interested in other people." There's something in his explanation. True it may be that they who fall in love with themselves are sure of a life long romance, but also true it is that such self-infatuaters usually exhaust their charms on themselves. Their charms are not very pervading. "The woman of magnetism," the next man I met told me. "Don't ask me what It ' is, but show me the woman and I'll tell you whether she's got it." Most of us feel that way about it. Magnetism is not a thing one can ex plain. I met a man who is a big, robust, six foot two Inches. In mind and sympa thy he's as broad and as big. "What's your type of woman?" I asked him. "Own up and describe what she's like." "She's only as tall as my heart," he quoted, "and she carries a key basket remember the old-fashioned key basket our mothers used to haul around everywhere they went in the morning looking ever the house? Well, iat's my type of woman. She digs Jn "The next rebate we had in the kitchen was a colored man named James Buchanan Pendergrast. "James was all there is and carry four. Ho was one of the most careful cooks that ever made faces at roast beef. "The evening he arrived we intended to have shad roe for dinner, and James informed us that that was where he lived. "Eight o'clock came and no dinner. Then Aunt Martha went in the kitchen to convince him that we were human beings with appetites. "She found Careful James counting the roe to see if the. fish dealer had sent the right number. "He was up to 2.196,493, and still had a half pound to go. "James left that night, followed by shouts of approval from all present. "I'm telling you all this. Hep. just to prove that fate is kind while it de lays your wedding until some genius invents an automatic cook made of aluminum and electricity." Hep laughed and shook his head. "The servant problem won't delay my wedding." he chortled; "if there wasn't a cook left in the world we wouldn't care; we're going to be vegetarians because we're going to live in the Garden of Eden." "Tush!" I snickered. "Tush, yourself!" said Hep. "Oh, tush, both of you," said Peaches. "John said that very thing to me three weeks before we were married." "Sure I did," I went back, "and we're still in the Garden, aren't we? Of course if you want to sublet part of it and have Hep and his bride roam ing moonstruck through your straw berry beds, that's up to you!" "Well," said friend wife, "being alone in the Garden of Eden is all right, but after you've been there three or four years there's a mild excitement in hearing a strange voice even if it is that of a serpent!" Close the door, Delia, I feel a draft. (Copyright 1914; all rights reserved.) the ground, puttering about taking up flowers, and she knows how to sing a baby to sleep and to comfort a man. and she's the Not Impossible She I've been looking for every since I was old enough to marry. I'm beginning to think they left her behind in that other generation." "There are lots of pictures of her." I comforted, "In big gold frames." "In old houses," he agreed, "but one can't wed with a lady In a picture. Tell me where to find her these days in real life." Then I turned my attention to find ing out what type of girl the mascu line mind prefers blonde or brunette. "Does it make so much difference?" drawled one man. "Coloring is a triv ial thing these days when such per fection in make-up has been achieved. Given the right qualities of mind and heart, can't the really energetic girl make herself look any woman she wants to look like to please the man who loves her?" I think he was right. Coloring Is trivial. Blondes at 20 usually grow to be brunettes at 40; golden hair turns smoke-colored so soon, and the thinnest skin thickens up and grows darker with the passing of the years. But given the right feeling, these arc but trivial onslaughts; the woman who knows her husband prefers blondes will meet and keep her coloring by her superior artistry. "How much does vivacity count with a man?" "Not at all, unless it's the real thing." I was told. "High spirits can't be assumed and carried to a successful conclusion unless there's a spirit of real fun behind the raillery, and the real thing, no matter what it is, al ways is effective." "Does the demure, housekeeping type stand any chance in these tango mad days?" "Does she?" echoed the man to whom I asked the question. "Just wait until the craze abates, and see how all the girls who get married will be the poke bonneted ones, who are demure and quiet. The pendulum is bound to swing back, and once man is freed from these dance-mad maidens they'll have a long, stern chase before they get him again. Anyway," he whispered, "most of the tango partners aren't marrying men." This may or may not be true. It de pends altogether on the man in the case, as well as on the woman. But to sum up my little correspond ent's queries, the matter is reduced to such a number of issues that every girl has possibilities of making her self popular. Each man prefers a different type of Bill, )