■ -AI.THY American widows
b*tr come hi recent years to
to play a moat important part
la several important divisions
of the worlds afl-ur* It is
not. eaber. merely here in the
t sited S-tcw that these mon
eyed women are maiunt; their
itSueme feh »>n the con
trary. their ibImet has pro
*«* fully as potent in many
. :nks abroad to much so.
indeed, that the Rood people
me Hanipr hate been compelled to sit up and
take an ee of r r4 American widow * a* a claw*
• eti wormy to rank with any subdivision of
•uaif abroad (not ere*. eicepttn* '.be nobil
h >i. If the rompartnoa he made on the basts
/ c .»tu or r s!• m-ry <-r ;.*elr> or .-in* of the
at tr standards by which the feminine world
■StS each store
Here m the I'sitM S'ates it would be diffi
-w*r la n-s sphere tn which (be wealthy
Widows have not been -irrtinr tretnendous
ttttrtr* <4 late years tCwoa ui politics they
have sot matted upon the victory of the euf
fn«* erase to enable them to take a hand
Kur the prewets'. to be sure, their influence is
Indirect. Is It ts none the leas inn hie. as
mi ■. ess the power of the salow maintained by
that brilliant woman. Mrs Hitt, widow of the
late chairman of the ton ian rela'ion* rommtt
t. e 'if the houic of nisisttallve* and the
he kina w Me* ¥< ualor lleveridtce at Indiana
has had tbcowcfc the tact that bis wife is the
S.I -omsi (4 Mrs Marsh-!! Pield. widow of
thr ttiksio Drr.inet •
jS.► :tflf there is no ouesuon as to llie tre
■asdic* parr -4 the American widow To
11 _ liar :* iw* LaS mly to slop to reflect how
V |.»lHr world is dominated by the hospital!
- of smek weB»odo widows as Mrs 1. 7.
las'er widow of the ChiraSO
r*»sti oUWooktre and mother
of the late Lady t'wrzon
- tucretne of India. Mrs
• grpM I\!!kib. widow uf
u - car U afrr. Mrs Tint
as r Walsh, widow of the
kWk Usr.~ Mrs Mary
|
the Penney Svnair <on! nui ou magnate, and
Mr* M A Hants* * -jw» aI the late Catted
n'aien naitar front Ohio
Mr* Huuat life >uwe tip. death of her
iwihawa. ae naj here digress to . \plain, has
illusuaied Ixra great is the latitude of life
jym to the modern wealthy widow in con
uw> to (hr dR«u>nh<d eai*ten'-e of the av
erage widow of a prominent official of a cen
•ary ago. who. mpoa the death of her husband,
waw wont to retire to to* planra'lon or country
•eat sad live in the u*nu *• quietude If not In
sctwwJ •*.- iu»*t« Af’er the death of her bus
head Mr* lisaaa Bud for a time In a fash
-•bahlc hotel ta Washington Then she built
n lance haune and occupied it for a time, later
d.sponuag of tt Us a prow. Inert’ army officer
Nest she bad a sp*-*-t*l apart men' arranged to
her order In one of the largest of the new bo
•els la Mew fork, ein providing a special
kitchen foe "Maggie her jewel" of a cook.
Thea dewmag a change, she hit upon the idea
af her present program of life, which calls for
in l.urope each spring
a winter residence in Wuh
.e has two apartments of 14
In • fnlilmMi apartment house
*m It* nans t*room » partner/ might
a pretty preteatiuas rwsddenttal establish
for a lone woman to maintain, hut it is
ly n clrrym'tt 'r to the enc.rn.ons four
mansion erected at the national capital
-^€'CAVJJ ISOJST 'S'JTXa&MeG
by Mrs. Staler, another wealthy widow, who is
the sole occupant of this palace save for the
1* servants who minister to her needs.
Wealthy widows, it may be added, have not
shirked the responsibilities of house building
Indeed, on the contrary, it seems to be one of
their fads Mrs. Leiter, in addition to her
town house's, has lately been building a sum
mer 'cottage” costing hundreds of thousands
of dollars on the North Shore of Massachu
setts near the summer home of President Taft.
Mrs. Hay. widow of the laie secretary of
state, has built a magnificent mansion in Cleve
land: Mrs Pullman and Mrs. Marshall Field
ha.o ordered new homes from plans which
they had a di^nd in making: Mrs. Hitt has
Kl”J n *3cca&tvk> sr? seeV'T*
^ °^^aAr~
built a splendid home since the death of her
husband and the wealthy Mrs. Wyeth of Phila
delphia had her nephew-architect carry out
her ideas of a distinctive home.
In point of achievement, however, unques
tionably the greatest of all the house build
ers in the coterie of wealthy widows is Mrs.
Albert Clifford Barney, who inherited one
fortune from her father, a Cincinnati pio
neer. and married another. Mrs. Barney is of
a most artistic temperament and is indeed an
artist of no mean ability in both oils and
water colors. She spends much time in Paris,
where she and two of her daughters, who de
vote themselves respectively to painting and
sculpture, are much in their element When
she is in this country Mrs. Barney divides her
time and her boundless energy between the
staging of Greek plays and other amateur the
atricals of a most ambitious character and the
designing and building of houses for love of
it. These unique habitations that she creates
Mrs. Barney sells or rents, and be it said to
her credit that she is a clever enough business
woman to make her art profitable in dollars
and cents as well as in personal satisfaction
In the field of philanthropy America^ wid
ows have of late years accomplished so much
good as to make these bereaved ones as a
class the most respected and most admired
contingent of American multintillionairedom.
The generosity of Mrs. Phoebe Hearst in good
works has insured her a place for all time in
our real hall of fame and Mrs. Harriman's gift
of a splendid park to the state of N’ew York
bids fair to be but the first of a series of no
table benefactions. Mrs. Russell Sage is an
other woman who in a comparatively brief
widowhood has helped the needy in many
ways, and the late Mrs. Gardner Hubbard,
widow of the man who reaped the greatest
financial rewards from the invention of the
telephone, was lavish during her lifetime In
good works.
There is one group of widows in the Tnit
ed States in the members of which—for all
that they are roost of them living very qui
etlv—the public is bound to take a keen inter
est. This group is made up of the widows of
former high officials of the cation, including
the widows of our military and naval heroes
Conspicuous among the number are the two
sure iviug widows of presidents. Mrs Mary
Lord Harrison and Mrs. Grover Cleveland.
Mrs. Cleveland spends most of her time in the
family home at Princeton or at her farm in
New Hampshire, though she has of late de
voted no little time to residence In Switzer
land, where her children are being educated.
Mrs. Harrison, likewise, spends much time
abroad, though she maintains a home in Indi
anapolis and indulges in occasional lengthy
vacations in a log tAiuse in the Adirondacks.
Of the widows of the nation's warriors
probably the public hears most frequently of
Mrs. Phil Sheridan, widow of the famous cav
alry leader, although Mrs. Logan and Mrs.
Pickett, the latter the widow of the Confeder
ate chieftain who led the desperate charge at
Gettysburg, have been more or less in the
public eye owing to their literary work and
their careers on the lecture platform Mrs.
Sheridan, alike to both these other widows,
resides at the national capital and an anecdote
is told of Mrs. Sheridan to the effect that she
silenced some gossip which speculated as to
her remarriage by the remark, "I would rather
be the widow of Phil Sheridan than the wife
of any man alive."
And speaking of the remarriage of widows,
It may be added that one of the circumstances
that renders these widowed women of wealth
interesting to many people is the possibility
of remarijage—an ever-present Incentive to
speculation, even though the object of suck,
public curiosity may have not the slightest
intention of again entering the bonds of mat
rimony. And that this solicitude is by no
means restricted to disinterested observers or
confined to the Cnited States is eloquently at
tested b> the attentions which eligible mem
bers of the nobility of Europe have showered
upon Mrs. Pottei Palmer. Mrs. “Jack" Gardi
ner. Mrs. Marshall Field and—most courted of
all— Mrs. Nonnie Worthington Stewart Leeds,
the dazzhngly wealthy as well as dazzllngly
beautiful young widow of a multimillionaire
who garnered the golden harvest of the tin
plate industry and sundry railroads.
Almost all the wealthy American widow*
seem to have a penchant for spending more or
less of their time in Europe and there are oth
ers who live there continuously, returning but
seldom to their native land, and then only
for visits. In this class are the widows of for
eign diplomats w ho receive pensions from the
I governments seived by their late husbands. A
conspicuous example is afforded by Baroness
Sternburg—the former Miss Langham. a Ken
tucky beauty, who as the result of a genuine
romance that began as a case of love at first
sight on a transatlantic liner, married Baron
Speck von Sternburg. a very capable German
diplomat, who lost his life as the result of dis
ease contracted while serving his government
in India.
In the field of art many American widows,
such as Mrs. St. Gaudens. are factors, if not
by virtue of their own talents at least as cus
todians of the masterpieces left by their de
ceased husbands, and the same is true in the
spheres of literature and public life, where the
collection of the papers of an eminent man or
the publication of his memoirs has frequently
devolved upon the widow. In the financial
world wealthy widows, by sheer force of their
monetary possessions, wield an influence rec
ognized by all men of affairs. The most no
table example, of course, is that afforded by
Mrs. Hetty Green, who controls one of the
wealthiest and most powerful of the New York
banks.
CURRENT WRECKS A BRIDGE
Taonty *ev«a Sty T rr-bora Are Cut
ThCBV^I I* 0»V« Day by Aid of
Etactricity
Ua* <4 IM Mat laittMtf van to
• fear a ahctrtdai «aa nrr pat vaa .n
tfea andoai *4 a bodge om tb* W»
IWi UMcr bad b-et. parriiiMi] by
•»>*■ caaMty aothorltlei. orfeo intended
•a riytare H fey a a*eel structure erect
ed «a (fee aid liters anc aim'meat*
TV oaraer agreed to rrtauie the
feradgr la JS daya
TV cfeMf diSmtiy lay *u the abort
titna agreed upon lor the removal «4
•fee bodge Hntnl amkm to ahoM
*V Matter *m Mrim.it’ed declared
•bat It aaril he iMpoaoifele * title So
daya to poll doara the old bridge aitfe
tajMT <o the parrs
The drartaif Migfel be Moan up
ahl dynaarite. but the rapknion
mould also dratroy the plera Were It
fired (he heat aaaU craefc and injure
i be Masonry of (fee bridge The 3C
dajra eaptrod. and an niMuM <4 one
net aaa granted.
Tfee ooner aaa at kla alts' end,
a fere fee chanced upon an eloctrictaa
a ho proposed, hot to feioo up tbc
! — T*
brulge. but lo burn It apart His pro
posal was gladly accepted
Kacb span of the bridge was cotn
j i-o -d of rtine chords of three timbers
ee.-h The 27 sills were to be cut
simultaneously, so that the span would
drop between the piers Into the river
Tl;e cutting was to be accomplished
by burning through the wood with
loops of iron resistance made red hot
h > t> •• p.. ssage of the electric current.
Klft y-four resistance loons were
heated to wreck each span, and the
spank vere wrecked one at a time.
Sutf.r.enl current was used to heat the
iron wires cherry red. The result was
exactly the same with every span. Be
tween the turning on of the current
and the fall of the span an hour and
40 minutes elapsed. Then the mass
of timbers fell into the water well in
side the piers, so that they were unin
jured.
The cut made by the hot wire was
sharp and clean, and the wood was
not charred more' than an iqeh from
the place of fracture.
The current was first turned on at
about five o'clock in the morning, and
at two in the afternoon the last span
| crashed down to the river, bed.—
[ Scientific American.
A BALL FOR BABY
•i * love !* smcnca into a girt
it goes into the one that celebrates
b*by’fc first birthday. One of the pret
presents, which wiil give the
i. Mc one great Joy. in a large edition
of those balls which the happy
mother, of today delighted to fashion
as children with two circles of card
board perforated in the center.
Instead of making the circles an
:n< h or two In diameter, make them
fall sis inches in sire, and use pink
and white or pale blue and white wool
i of a very fleecy type. Tie the wool
through the perforation in the rara
boarti and then proceed to fill up the
hole by drawing the wool through and
through over the cardboard until no
| more will pass. Cut it and tie it be
tween the two circles and remove
: these by tearing them away.
The ball Should be sewn on to nar
row satin ribbon, blue or pink, as the
; case may be, and to this ribbon
' Should be attached a quantity of little
! gold or silver bells, which will jingle
merrily when the ball Is swung to and
1 fro by the ribbons.
RENEWS ANTIQUE WASHSTAND
1 Long Islander Sells Piece of Furniture
for Fifty Cents and Buys It
Back for $20.
An olderlv Long Islander onoe at- j
tended an auction of old furniture, j
Arooug the articles for which bids j
were asked was a heavy marble- ,
topped washstand. The Long Island
er bid ten cents for it. and as he was
(he only one who spoke the wash
stand was knocked down to him—
rather to his disrnav. as he had to
have it conveyed to his distant home.
For several years this ten-cent antique ;
was an occupant of the bam. its n-.ar- !
ble top being removed and the interior ;
of the stand serving as a receptacle
for cans of paint.
One day a clerk from a furniture
store in the neighborhood called at
the Long Islander's and accidentally
caught sight of the unappreciated
washstand. He made some inquiries
concerning it. and eventually pur
chased it for 50 cents. The clerk took
his purchase to the store, gave it a
thorough renovating and it became a
handsome piece of hardwood furni
ture, the marble top adding the fin
ishing touch. Not long after this
transformation the elderly Long
Islander and his wife visited the fur
niture store, and when the wife saw
chat beautifully polisued antique
washstand she fell in love wiih it. for
it just filled her ideal. Her husband
6eemed to have a suspicion of the
truth, and endeavored to distract her
attention. But the affair ended by the
woman purchasing the stand for $20.
and it is now one of her most highly
prized possessions.
Beli Must Be Tuned.
The general impression is that the
tone of a bell is largely a matter of
accident, but this is not so. A bell
must be tuned the same as a piano
or any other musical instrument. Ev
ery beli has five sounds, which must
blend together in perfect harmony,
and this is accoinmplished by shaT
ing down certain parts until the de
sired harmony is secured. In the
event of shaving too deep the bell is
not injured, but the tuning operation
is prolonged, as other parts must be
operated on and cut away to a corre
sponding degree.
*
Just the Thing.
Klgg—What are yon having carved
on the phoiographer's tombstone?
F'Ogg—Taken from life. — Boston
Transcript.
TALL OF TWO POOR NEPHEWS
(jc# Triad to P un the Rich Old
Uncle- Whe Titan Made a
Mete Will.
nan ware ou a rtcfc old undo
who had taw fwwr nardtrao
uncle with the great affection he bore !
him by some tangible means. So he !
drew out bis savings and purchased
for bis rich old uncle a magnificent
; gold watch, and had it neatly en
' graved. To it he attached a gorgeous
chain, put the whole affair in a lav
ishly decorated box and sent It to his
rich old uncle with his best wishes.
The second poor nephew figured
that any extreme financial outlay
would convince his rich old uncle that
be was trying to Jolly him a bit too
much, so he invested s nickel in s
neat but tasty Christmas card, which
he mailed to the rich old uncle
So "the rich old uncle received the
two remembrances and said of the
first nephew:
“Humph! A man who will spend
all he has for a gold watch to give to
a man who already has all the watches
he ever will need hasn't got enough
judgment to be trusted with money.
I will leave him my blessing and a few
words of good advice.”
When he looked at the card he nod
ded his head approvingly and said:
• .
“There's a man after my own heart
He knew 1 would not care for an ex
pensive gift and he knew that I would
value his good wishes, so he very
wisely sent them to me in this inex
pensive manner. He shows a marked
economical trait and I am sure he
will get along in the world without
any aid from me.”
So he made a new will and left all
his money to found an institution for
the study of prehistoric manifesta
tions of microblc diseases in fossilised
animalculae.
I'
I *
His Witness.
Sis-year-old David had b«en told not
to play in the oiled road. Coming into
the house with suspiciously black
bands, he was reprimanded by his
mother.
"Vou've been playing in the road,”
she said.
"No, mother, I haven’t. That's pitch
from the tree."
“Don't tell me a story. David. I
know It's oil from the road.”
"Well, God know8 It’s pitch,” said
David, "for he saw me climb the ire*.”
Corralling a Quarter Section
————— .*..*.
By M. J. PHILLIPS
(Copyright, 19U, by Associated Literary Press.)
Arthur Brant was conscious of an
I undercurrent of hostility in the sod
cabin of the Pentons. The mental at
i mosphere was as crisp as the breath
: less cold of the February night—a cold
which clutched the Dakota prairies In
! iron fingers.
Brant was a shy young man where
women were concerned, and though
he felt acutely that for some reason
Hilda Penton. her parents and her
ten-year-old brother had turned against
him. he could not bring himself to ask
t why. or to worm the reason out of
them by indirection.
They had moved onto the quarter
| section adjoining his own fine farm a
few weeks before. He had not learned
; to know them well, though he had
formed the habit of dropping fn on
them during the evening. But now he
was unwelcome. Jim Penton. usually
affable and garrulous, smoked tonight
in grave silence. He kept his gaze on
the cracked stove, which w-as glowing
red with its efforts to beat back the
searching cold.
Mrs Penton knitted without looking
up. and little Jim. who "usually hung
adoringly about Brant's knees, was
huddled in a corner, though he peered
stealthily at his friend as often as he
Jared
As fpr Hilda herself, beyond the
merest monosyllabic replies to Brant's
efforts to make conversation, she was i
ominously quiet.
When her work was completed and
she sat down opposite him. her blue
eyes were sparkling, and her voice re- ;
minded Brant of the crackle of frosty 1
snow under foot.
"I understand, Mr. Brant, that you i
were down at the county seat Friday
| looking up the title of our quarter sec
tion.”
Yes.” replied Brant; “that's one
reason I came over. The land's been
advertised for unpaid taxes. It's to
be sold Tuesday.”
“And you're going to buy It in?”
i The contemptuous tone cut like a
iash. "'No,'" replied Brant.’simply.
“Well, we can't redeem it. We had
barely enough to get It. And that mis
erable Sim Brockway cheated us. He
"It Was a Bad Day Even for an
Enemy to Be Out."
i said the title was all right Now we're
: to have another sample of Dakota
friendship!”
Anger swept away Brant's 6hyness.
He rose. "You mean I’d try to get
your property on tax-title?"
' “We were told that's how you came
by your last two quarter sections.”
“Whoever told you that lied," said
Brant, quietly. The owners hadn't
paid taxes. I'll admit. But I gave fair
value for every acre. Just the same."
He knew who told the falsehood_
Peter Snyder, fat-faced, shifty-eyed
Pete, who had elected himself first
friend to shiftless Jim Penton and
pretty, blue-eyed Hilda. And Peter
; was notorious as a tax-title shark. He
was getting rich by taking advantage
of the land-poor.
"Our hundred and sixty would com
| plete your section.” drawled old Jim;
; "I don't wonder you want it."
Brant turned on him ”1 don't want
your land.” he said. “But if you don’t
raise a hundred and forty dollars by
Tuesday some one'll get it; that's
: sure.”
He strode out and closed the door
behind him. Perhaps his musings
would have been less bitter had he
! known that Hilda had cried silently for
an hour after going to bed—and her
tears were not altogether tor tne com
ing loss of the farm.
Tuesday dawned cloudy, cold; a
storm was in store. As Hilda looked
out on the broad plain of undulating
white, treeless and stark, sudden hot
resentment welled up within her. For
there, muffled to his eyes In a fur coat
behind a swiftly jogging horse, was
Arthur Brant. He was headed for the
county seat, 22 miles away.
She had nourished a secret hope
that Peter Snyder lied; that Brant
would not seize their land. But Peter,
whom she distrusted despite his plaus
ible tongue, had told the truth. Brant
cared more for their land than for
their—for her—regard. Her lips trem
bled pitifully as she turned from the
window.
The storm came apace. There was a
wind that flew with the speed of a bul
let.
A score of times during the day an
unconfessed anxiety drew the girl to
the window. There, melting a hole
in the frost with her breath, she peered
into the storm. It was a bad day even
for an enemy to be out.
At eight o'clock there came a muf
fled knock. Hilda hurried to the door
and threw it open, to recoil in amaze
ment. for the mild, patient head of a
horse projected into the cabin. it
was Brant's horse.
With an exclamation she waded
through the snow to the cutter. There
was a huddled, fur-clad heap in the
bottom of the vehicle.
As her cry brought the others out
bareheaded into the storm, a shape
detached itself from the rushing white
gioom—Frank Oleson. Brant's hired
man. The Swede hail been searching
afoot, for his master.
"He bane freezing!" he cried. an<!
fell upon Brant like a bear, cuffing,
shaking and worrying him back from
the verge of the dreaded sleep which
has no waking.
Brant roused reluctantly and looked
about him, at the faithful Oleson, at
the Pentons, scarcely less concerned
at the cabin beyond, warm and light
and cozy. His face changed as at an
unpleasant memory.
"Take me home, Frank," he said,
in a tone that brooked no disobe
dience.
And for the second time within a
week Hilda Penton cried herself to
sleep. The last vestige of hope was
gone. He had bid in their land.
That is why he would not trespass on
their hospitality.
It was three days before little Jim
could go to the postofflee, two miles
away. He came hack with a letter—
an official looking article from the
county seat, and a budget of news
that kept him Jumping up and down
in excitement.
The envelope was addressed to her
father, but Hilda tore it open, caught
the sense at a glance, and dropped
weakly into k chair.
“Mother—father!" she gasped; “It's
all right. We won't lose our farm.
Mr. Brant has loaned us the money.”
Mr. and Mrs. Penton. graying head;
bent together, laboriously gathered
that James Penton, by his agent, Ar
thur Brant, had paid the sum
of $142.79. being the full amount due
for back taxes and ^penalties on the
southeast one-quarter of section—
Oh, it was all there, to the last letter
and figure of the description!
Meanwhile, little Jim, by the ex
pedlent of whooping at regular in
tervals. at last attracted the family's
attention.
“Listen to me. listen to me!” hs
yelled. “Lemme tell you about the
fight over to Carlin Tuesday, Bill
Samuelson. he saw it.”
“Hey?" said his father, raising hii
eyes at last from the magic paper
“A fight—who?”
“Arthur Brand and Peter Snyder."
chattered little Jim. "That mean old
Pete was there to get our land, and
he had a check all made out. Bui
Mr. Brant came in and said he was
your agent, pa, an’ had the monej
ready. An' Pete called him a liar
and Mr. Brant told him he was s
tax-title shark, so Pete struck al
him.
“And then they fought and knocked
over chairs, an' the clerk climbed up
onto the desk, and Mr. Brant blacked
Pete's* eyes and bloodied his nose
An'—
Little Jim stopped, the breath
squeered out of his body. For his sis
ter, her eyes shining like twin stars,
was hugging him to her breast and
laughing and crying at the same
time.
“Jtm.“ she said, “you go and tell
Arthur to come over here. I—we_we
want to thank him, and beg his par
don.”
“ 'Tain't ne'ssary,” replied Jim.
wriggling free. “I asked him myself.
An’ he said he'd come."
What Folksongs Are
One ot the finest pleasures In the
world is derived from singing. Even
savages make an effort to sing by ut
i tering weird notes as they beat on
I queer drums and dance around their
j war fires. In ancient times before
i there were any pianos, people sang
sometimes to the clapping of their
bands, and often to the accompaniment
of crude instruments which looked
like old-fashioned guitars, violins or
harps. Their songs told of battles,
love, harvest time, hunting and other
events in their lives. Before men
knew how to write and print music,
songs were preserved by being treas
ured in the memory of the people.
Every country had its own peculiar
songs which were passed down from
father to son, sometimes through hun
dreds of years. In more modern times,
interested people have from time to
time printed collections of these songs
of the different nations, and nowadays
there are many enthusiastic collectors
who are printing these songs so that
we may all know them. This kind of
mueic is called folksongs. These in
clude the songs which the “folk," or
people, sing and treasure in their
heart and^ memory .—St Nicholas.
The Telltale Nose.
It has been pointed out that, were
a polar bear of a darker color, if’would
have no chance at all to stalk its
prey, especially seals. The only black
spot about it is the tip of its nose
bailors who first landed on the unev
plored arctic shores stated that the
bears used to take them for seals and
begin to stalk them at a considerate
distance, lying down flat on their hi
lies and wriggling along m that nosi'
lion until they came to an Ice hum
mock, when they would get up peer
over to see if the “seals" ’ were
alarmed, and wriggle on again
The sailors said that they could al
ways see the black nose when the
bear got near, but vowed that the ani
mal put his paw over his muzzle to
[ hide it.—Harper's Weekly.
