Dayton tribune., July 21, 1922, Image 4

!
Something to
Think ^4bout
Mary Marie
By F. A. WALKER
------------- By-------------
ENCOURAGING WORDS
ELEANOR. H. PORTER
Cotn-Hcht by Fleenor B Porter
—
“THAT’S ALL!"
SYNOPSIS.—In a preface Mary
Marte explains her apparent "dou­
ble personality" and just why Is a
"cross-current and a contradic­
tion"; she also tells her reasons
for writing the diary—later to ba
a novel. The diary Is commenced
at Andersonville. Mary begins with
Nurse Sarahs account of her
(Mary's) birth, which seemingly in­
terested her father, who is a fa­
mous astronomer, less than a new
star which was discovered the same
night. Her name is a compromise;
her mother wanted to call her
Viola and her father insisted on
Abigail Jane.
The child quickly
learned that her home was in some
way different from those of her
small friends, and was puzzled
thereat Nurse Sarah tells her of
her mother’s arrival at Anderson­
ville as a bride and how astonished
they all were at the sight of the
dainty eighteen-year-old girl whom
the sedate professor had chosen for
a wife. Nurse Sarah makes It plain
why the household seemed a strange
one to the child and how her fa­
ther and mother drifted apart
through misunderstanding, each too
proud to In any way attempt to
smooth over the situation. Mary
tells of the time spent "out west"
where the "perfectly all right and
genteel and respectable" divorce
was being arranged for, and her
mother's (to her) unaccountable be­
havior. By the court's decree the
child is to spend six months of the
year with her mother and six
months with her father. Boston is
Mother’s home. Mary describes her
life as Marie with her mother in
Boston.
Ing life for some other woman so ab­
solutely miserable that she’d think
hanging would be a lucky escape from
something worse."
"Harriet!" exclaimed Grandpa in a
shocked voice.
“Well, I mean It!” declared Aunt
Hattie emphatically. “Look at poor
Madge here, and thnt wretch of a hus­
band of hers!"
And Just here Is when» the funny-
thing happened. Mother bristled up—
Mother!—and even more that Aunt
Hattie had. She turned red and then
white, and her eyes blazed.
“That will do, Hattie, please, in my
presence," she said, very cold, like lee.
“Dr. Anderson is not a wretch at all.
He is an honorable, scholarly gentle­
man. Without doubt he meant to be
kind and considerate. He simply did
not understand me. We weren't suited
to each other. That's all.”
And she got up and swept out of the
room.
Now, wasn’t that funny? But I
Just loved It, all the same. I always
love Mother when she's superb and
haughty and disdainful.
Well, after she had gone Aunt Hat­
tie looked at Grandpa and Grandpa
looked at Aunt Huttie.
Grundpa
shrugged his shoulders, and gave his
hands a funny little flourish ; and Aunt
Hattie lifted her eyebrows and said:
“Well, what do you know about
that?’’ (Aunt Hattie forgot I was In
the room, I know, or she'd never In the
CHAPTER—IV—Continued.
Well, to resume and go on. There’s
the violinist. I mustn’t forget him.
But, then, nobody could forget him.
He’s lovely; so handsome and distin­
guished-looking with his perfectly
beautiful dark eyes and white teeth.
And he plays—well, I’m simply crazy
over his playing. I only wish Carrie
Heywood could hear him. She thinks
her brother can play. He’s a traveling
violinist with a show; and he came
home once to Andersonville. And I
heard him. But he’s not the real thing
at all. Not a bit. Why, lie might be
anybody, our grocer, or the butcher,
up there playing that violin. His eyes
are little and blue, and his hair is
red and very short. I wish she could
hear our violinist play!
And there's another man that comes
to the parties and teas;—oh, of course
there are others, lots of them, married
men with wives, and unmarried men
with and without sisters. But I mean
another man specially. His name is
Harlow. He’s a little man with a
brown pointed beard and big soft
brown eyes. He’s really awfully good-
looking, too. I don’t know what he
does do; but he's married. I know
that. He never brings his wife, though;
but Mother’s always asking for her, “That Will Do, Hattie, Please, In My
clear and distinct, and she always
Presence," She Said, Very Cold, Like
smiles, and her voice kind of tinkles
Ice.
like little silver bells. But Just the
world have used slang like that!)
same he never brings her.
He never takes her anywhere. I “And after all the things she’s said
heard Aunt Hattie tell Mother so at about how unhappy she was!” finished
the very first, when he came. She Aunt Hattie.
Grandpa didn’t say anything, but
said they weren't a bit happy together,
and that there'd probably be a divorce Just gave his funny little shrug again.
And it was kind of queer, when you
before long. But Mother asked for
her Just the same the very next time. come to think of It—about Mother, I
mean, wasn’t it?
And she's done it ever since.
I think I know now why she does. ONE MONTH LATER
I found out, and I was simply thrilled.
It was so exciting! You see, they
Well, I’ve been here another whole
were lovers once themselves—Mother month, and It’s growing nicer all the
and this Mr. Harlow. Then something time, I just love it here.
iiappened and they quarreled. That
And Mother is happy. I'm sure she
was Just before Father came.
is. Somebody Is doing something for
Of course Mother didn’t tell me this, her every moment—seems so. They
nor Aunt Hattie. It was two ladies. are so glad to get her back again. I
I heard them talking at a tea one day. know they are. I heard two ladies
I was right behind them, and I couldn't talking one day, and they said they
get away, so I Just couldn’t help hear­ were. They called her “Poor Madge,”
ing what they said.
and “Dear Madge,” and they said it
I'm not sure, anyway, that Mother'll was a shame that she should have
want to get married again. From lit­ had such a wretched experience, and
tle things she says I rather guess she that they for one should try to do ev­
doesn't think much of marriage, any­ erything they could to make her for­
way. One day I heard her say to get.
Aunt Hattie that it was a very pretty
And that's what they all seem to be
theory that marriages were made in trying to do—to make her forget.
heaven, but that the real facts of the There Isn't a day goes by tut that
case were that they were made on somebody sends flowers or books or
earth. And another day I heard her candy, or Invites her somewhere, or
say that one trouble with marriage takes her to ride or to the theater,
was that the husband and wife didn't or conies to see her, so that Mother
know how to play together and to rest is in just one whirl of good times from
together. And lots of times I’ve heard morning till night. Why, she’d just
her say little things to Aunt Hattie have to forget. Hhe doesn’t have any
that showed how unhappy her mar­ time to remember. I think she Is for­
riage had been.
getting, too. Oh, of course she gets
But last night a funny tiling hap­ tired, and sometimes rainy days or
pened. We were all in the library twilights I find her on the sofa in her
reading after dinner, and Grandpa room not reading or anything, and her
looked up from his paper and said face looks 'most as it used to some­
something about a woman that was times after they'd been having one of
sentenced to be hanged and how a their incompatibility times.
But I
whole lot of men were writing letters don’t find her that way very often,
protesting against having a woman and it doesn’t last long. So I really
hanged; but there were only one or think she Is forgetting.
two letters from women. And Grand­
About the prospective suitors—I
pa said that only went to prove how found that “prospective suitor” In a
much more lacking in a sense of fit­ story a week ago, and I Just love It.
ness of things women were than men. It means you probably will want to
And he was Just going to say more marry her, you know. I use It all the
when Aunt Hattie bristled up and time now—In my mind—when I'm
tossed her chin, and said, real indig­ thinking about those gentlemen that
nantly :
come here (the unmarried ones). I
“A sense of fitness of things,‘in­ forgot nnd used it out loud one day
deed! Oh, yes, that's all very well to Aunt Hattie; but I shan’t again.
to say. There are plenty of men, no She said, "Mercy!” and threw up her
doubt, who are shocked beyond any­ hands and looked over to Grandpa the
thing at the idea of hanging a woman; way she does when I've said something
but those same men will think noth­ she thinks is perfectly awful.
There It Is again! I'm not old
ing of going straight home and mak-
enough. When will I be allowed to
take my proper place In life? Echo
answers when.
Well, to resume nnd go on.
Whut was 1 talking about? Oh. I
know—the prosiwctive suitors. (Aunt
Hattie can't hear me when I Just write
It, anyway.) Well, they all come Just
as they used to. only there are more
of them now—two fat men. one slim
one, and a man with a halo of hair
round a bald spot. Oh. I don't mean
that any of them are really suitors
yet. They Just come to call nnd to
tea, and send her Howers and candy.
And Mother Isn't a mite nicer to one
than she Is to any of the others Any-
body can see that, And she shows
very plainly she's no notion of pick-
Ing anybody out yet. Hut of course
I can't help being Interested and
watching.
As 1 said before. I don’t believe
Mother'll choose Mr. Harlow, anyway,
even when the time comes. As for any
of the others—I can't tell. She treats
them all Just exactly alike, as far as 1
can see. Polite and pleasant, but not
at all loverlike. Fwas talking to Pe­
ter one day about it, and I asked him.
But he didn't seem to know, either,
which one she w ill be likely to take, if
any.
Peter's about the only one I can
ask. Of course I couldn't ask Moth­
er, or Aunt Hattie And Grandfather
—well, I should never think of asking
Grandpa a question like that. But
Peter—Peter's a real comfort. I’m
sure I don’t know whut I should do for
somebody to talk to and ask questions
about things down here. If It wasn’t
for him. He takes me to school and
back again every day; so of course I
see him quite a lot.
Speaking of school, it's all right, nnd
of course I like it, though not quite so
well as I did. There are some of the
girls—well, they act queer. I don't
know what is the matter with them.
They stop talking—some of them—
when I come up, and they make me
feel, sometimes, as if I didn't belong.
Maybe It’s because I came from a little
country town like Andersonville. But
they've known that all along, from
the very first. And they didn’t act at
all like that at the beginning. Maybe
it's Just their way down here. If I
think of it I'll ask Peter tomorrow.
Well, I guess that's all I can think
of this time.
'To FORM n pleaMnt background
A or a pleasing accompaniment to
the drudgery of every day life, pass
around among the hordes of weary
mortals whose backs are bent under
heavy loads a few encouraging words
and observe, while you are doing it,
the iiappy change that conies over
their stoical countenances.
It takes but little kindness and mani­
festation of Interest to brighten dull
eyes und move sad faces to a smile.
As the Ups curl at the corners, you
comprehend with a new understand­
ing the value of cheering words
spoken In a kindly voice whose ring
Is sincere.
Whatever opinion you mny enter­
tain as to the Influence helpful acts
and speech have uixm others, you will
And upon intimate observation that It
Is always acceptable, uplifting and
productive of friendship.
Encouraging smiles and words are
like bright lighls on a dnrk highway,
guiding the tired traveler to Ills des­
tination, who but a little while ngo
had lost his way nnd fallen Into the
"slough of despond."
Reason as you mny, the tongue
plays the lending role In the great
drama of life, permitting Itself lib-
trtles thnt make for peace or war an
enmity or love, often forgetting In un
unguarded moment its great respon-
sibUity.
No man or woman who Indulges In
gross speech can expect to get nny.
thing in return except that which
arouses resentment
If you should incline to prove this
for’yourself, scold your pet dog. If
the opiHisite you would verify, fill
your pu^se tomorrow morning with
kind words of encouragement, crisp
as new bills, and pass them nrotind as
you wend your way to business.
Give one to the old newsman on
the corner, and see ids face light »P
as the sun of happiness touches his
heart and suddenly warms his whole
being.
Hand them out all along the wny
until you nre ready to assume your
duties of the day.
You may marvel as you begin at
the ease and gladness with which you
take up your work.
The troublesome perplexities of
yesterday have vanished, and there is
a goodly spirit hovering over you,
whose presence you have not felt for
months, and all because you started
the day by cheering others nnd thus«
unconsciously cheered yourself.
(Copyrizht.)
------------- ()--------------
MOST FOUR MONTHS LATER
It's been ages since I've written
here, I know. But there's nothing spe­
cial happened. Everything has been
going along Just about as It did at the
first. Oh, there is one thing different
—Peter's gone He went two months
ago. We’ve got an awfully old chauf­
feur now. One with gray hair and
glasses, and homely, too. His name Is
Charles. The very first day he came.
Aunt Hattie told me never to talk to
Charles, or bother him witii ques­
tions; that it was better he should
keep his mind entirely on his driving.
She needn't have worried. I should
never dream of asking him the things
I did Peter. He's too stupid. Now
Peter and I got to be real good friends
—until all of a sudden Grandpa told
1dm he might go. I don't know why.
I don't see as I'm any nearer finding
out who Mother's lover will be than I
was four months ago. I suppose It's
still too soon. Peter said one day he
thought widows ought to wait at least
a year, and he guessed grass-widows
were just the same. My, how mad I
was at him for using that name about
my mother! Oh, I knew what he
meant. I’d heard It at school. (I
know now what It was that made
those girls act so queer nnd horrid.)
There was a girl—I never liked her.
and I suspect she didn’t like me,
either. Well, she found out Mother
had a divorce. (You see, I hadn’t
told It. I remembered how those girls
out West bragged.) And she told a
lot of the others. But It didn't work
at all as it had in the West. None of
the girls In this school here had a di­
vorce in their families; and, if you'll
believe it, they acted—some of them—
as if it was a disgrace, even after I
told them good and plain that ours
was a perfectly respectable and gen­
teel divorce. Nothing I could say
made a mite of difference, with some
of the girls, and then is when I first
heard that perfectly horrid word,
“grass-widow.”- So I knew what Pe­
ter meant, though I was furious at him
for using it. And I let him see It
good and plain.
“There it Is again!
old enough!"
I’m not
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Self-Penalized.
One day in school I had been whis­
pering to the boy behind me. The
principal looked over my way und
said: “You two boys come up here in
these two front seats.” I picked up a
book and walked up to the front and
sat down. Two boys from Uie back
of the room came up also. TBe princi­
pal looked at me rather curiously nnd
then said: "I didn't catch you.”—
Chicago Journal.
Uncommon
Sense
¿ I
SCHOOL DAUS
R vm A id *« NO* *€"*!>
•«.o cwt e<m*a s»
«nm* *e » «IP»«*
»«s
*
■a^j ne con to ovf
xh O Puxs —
T F YOU have an Inherited fortune,
A which some one else Is taking care
of for you, you cun ufford to have
"nerves.”
You can afford to be sensitive, to be
easily irritated, to l>e extravagantly
disturbed at small annoyances.
You will not enjoy this, but it may
be some comfort to know that you
can afford It.
But If you have your way to make,
and are anxious to get as far as Is
possible with your particular mental
equipment, you will find that "nerves"
are too big a load to curry.
As you no doubt have discovered by
this time, the world In which we have
our being is not altogether a pleasant
one.
In it there are loud and raucous
noises, offensive sights, and displeas­
ing people.
There is also a thing called labor,
which viewed from the standpoint of
the busy man is a good deal of a
burden.
But this happens to be the only
world you are in, for the present at
least.
And If you permit all its unpleasant
features to get on your nerves, you
are going to be so busy with your un­
happiness and your self-pity thnt you
will have very little time to improve
your natural gifts.
If you are nervous nnd touchy and
sensitive, and always looking for of­
fense, you might as well go directly
to the poor house and give yourself up.
You will get there In the end, and it
will only be a waste of time to delay
your arrival.
A good many cases of “nerves" were
cured by the great war, permanently.
Young gentlemen who thought they
could not eat, save from a nice ma­
hogany table, spread with the best
food, nnd who fancied they could not
sleep if n trolley car was rattling by,
discovered that they were mistaken.
After they had slept for a few days
within the sound of exploding shells,
they saw that they hadn’t had much
to worry about bnck in pence times.
Get rid of your nerves If you want
to get nlong. Tnke the world ns you
find it, nnd put up with it. You mny
be nble to Improve It Just the least hit
Inter on, but you will have to become
very nble, nnd very great, before you
can do so.
(Copyright.)
------------- O------------ •
Shaking Them Up,
"Herbert's got the ague.”
"Let him attend to the milk shakes
One's artificial laugh at an old story today," directed the Arkansas drug-
Is sometimes suspiciously too loud.
gist.—Louisville Courier-Journal.
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THE DAY AFTER
Today may I»« all that la mournful!—
our paths < annul always bs bright.
Hut tomorrow w«‘U sumuhuw taka tour-
And truatlnsly enter th« n«hL
EVERY DAY DISHES
ICKED to n frazzle!" But, say, U71! WELCOME foods that give
’ * variety without adding to 11>4 ex­
\\ hut Is the UM* of repining?
pense of living, which Is high emiugh
Home at the close of the duy—
w 1th the best of management.
Armd of our loved ones entwining,
Out of the fret und the worn’,
Date Surprise Cool.l«*.
Out of the din and the strife
Stone dates and stuff with whole al­
Out of the battle und worry—
monds blanched. Holl out the cookie
Home und the Jojlime of life.
mixture very thin, cut In rounds and
place n stuffed date In the center;
Downed In the battle! But, say,
sprinkle with augur nnd lemon rimi
What is the profit in sorrow?
mixed ; fold over the cookie and pinch
Love is still lighting the wny
the edges together, Bake in u hot
On to u glorious morrow.
oven.
Out of the turmoil mid fuming
Out of the worry and wiles,
Pear Bread Pudding.
Love with Its welcome Is looming,
Slice canned pears in very small
Beckoning on with its smiles.
pieces; add lemon rind nnd Juice mid
place half of them In a pudding dish.
Whipped to a standstill ! But, sny.
Mix »ne tables|M>onful of butter with
Still there is Joy in the losing
one-half cupful of sugar, one cupful
If love binds the wounds of the fray of water mid a pint of bread crumbs;
After the battle's confusing.
spread all but a lablcspoonful over
Out of the smoke nnd the rattle,
I the pears. Put more pears In the dish;
After the heat of the fray;
add grated nutmeg mid sprinkle with
After the din of the battle.
the tnblespoonful of crumbs. Buko
Love lights the dose of the day.
with a cover for nn hour nnd u half,
(Copyright. )
tien remove the cover mid brown
--------o----- —
Serve with a hot sauce.
Fruit Meringue.
JOHN BLAKE
“NERVES,” A LUXURY
| 4
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Welter l. Robiuea
AIVVVWWftW.V?AWA
READJUSTS! ENT
Beat the halves of canned fruit
with a bit of lemon peel or candled
ginger !n the centers; cool nnd place
on each a tablespoonful of meringue.
Use the whiten of two eggs mid one-
third of a cupful of sugar for the
meringue.
Sandwich Piquant.
Tnke one cupful of new cabbage or
cucumber chopped, one-half cupful of
<(WJT ONEY grows or money goes."
But it will neither grow nor onion chopiwd, four tnblespoonfuls of
green pepper chopped, drain, add
leave one of Its own accord.
Many persons have had these facts cayenne nnd seusonlngs mid use on
brought home to them with a Jolt. buttered bread.
Unfortunately, however, they did not
Appt« Pudding.
recognize the value of what they ob­
Cook one half dozen apples until
tained when It came in fast. •
nearly done, unless of n variety which
Harsh lessons are usually well
cooks quickly; place In n deep baking
learned. The man who foolishly trusts
dish mid cover with a rich biscuit
n rotten plank to curry him across a
dough made like n drop butter, leav­
whirling stream and then pays for
ing spaces for the steam to escape.
his folly by a stiff fight for life, al­
A little seasoning may be added, such
ways is more cautious when he must
ns sugar, nutmeg and butter. Serve
walk another plank to follow his
with n lemon sauce or with thickened
pathway on the other side of a
apple Juice or cider seasoned to taste.
stream.
The same logic may Justly be np-
Fried Apples.
plied to every walk of life. If ono
Core good flavored apples nnd slice
spends nil he earns, the money na­ In half-Inch slices. Into n frying pnn
tunilly goes; but, if he is wise ii ml put two tablespoonfuls of bncon fat,
saves something, what he saves Is lay In the apples after sprinkling
certain to grow If properly Invested. lightly with salt nnd sugar nnd brown
And it Is surprising how fast It will on both sides. Serve with pork chops.
grow nnd what mi assistance It will
become when the source of supply be­
Rice and Asparagus Soup.
comes weak or slow In producing.
Wash the asparagus and ent off the
Whatever the difficulties one has tougher portions. Put the tips Into n
faced during the period of depression quart of well-seasoned broth and one
Incident to readjustment of economic cupful of water and cook until tender.
conditions, he still lias much for which Add one-half cupful of rice as soon as
to offer thanks. Long faces and the broth nnd asparagus nre boiling
grumbling are inclined to Increase the hot.
Cook until very tender.
This
world’s pessimism and hamper the soup mny bo put through n sieve nnd
progress back toward normalcy, it is then rendy to serve. Pass grated
Is far better to be a good sport—if cheese with the soup.
we be permitted to use gaming
language—then one Is more likely to
see the brighter side.
Out of the struggles and discourage­ Copyright, 1Ô22. W,«t*rn Nowspapor Union.
------------- o-------------
ments the country and world nt large
have been experiencing, common sense
will eventually rise to a higher plane
than It has occupied (or several years.
And, though ninny mny lime foolishly
I like to ketr tka kymns
spent all they earned when prosperity
in ckurck,
was with them and since have been
finding It difficult to make both ends
I feel uplifted in my
meet, when the tide turns back to
normal, greater value will be placed
on Incomes, more enutlon will be ex-
erclsed in spending, more money will
be saved, simple and healthful
Tkeir extr^little,
pleasures will be appreciated and
jqueezed-in
there will be jvidcr appreciation of
pwt
the privilege of earning fair wagos or
t\__ _
making fair profits on business done.
Painful though the lesson of read­
justment Is, It was necessary to as­
sure honesty and happiness in the
years to come.
THE CHEERFUL CHERVD
fCn©vrf»h» I