SEARCHING FOR OUR LOVE.
D my rapt soul! if thou hadst power
To choose all blessings earth can give,
ts there a better, richer dower
Than for her tenderness to live?
Come, give the heart the sweet surprise
Though ’twere but for a single day.
When young men and women begin
to make unpleasant remarks about not
having found any
one to love them
and how impossi
ble life is when
they are unhappy
and companion
less, I know that
they are getting
away \ from the
truth. I feel like
having a good,
sound talk with
the first down
cast young per
son 1 run across,
and telling him
or her of having
all the chance im
aginable to be
loved, courted
and married, if
the right way was only gone about, as
Providence intends.
In the first place, they must not
start in to think that romances spring
up from flirtations, coquetry and a
liking from the first devotee that
crosses one's path. If the dissatisfied
could only get away from this unrea
sonable belief, half the way would be
clear to search and find the one love
that is pleasing and to whom the
heart goes out to for a certainty.
“I am not quite sure whether I love
him or if he truly loves me,” is sel
dom on the lips if the hearts are in
unison, the right chord touched. More
than one secret wish is: The one
great boon from heaven I crave is
just a portion of true love of my own
Give me that devotedly and life would
be roseate and. complete with happi
ness. Is there any chance of this de
votion being fulfilled? is the oft-re
peated query.
Few Btand in need of the answer
If the thinking cap is put on. If a
heart would go out to you with won
derful lasting love, search must be
made from where it is possible to win
one. Forget the little crosses that
you have had; hope for brightness
and that which can bring it to cross
your lonely lot. No matter where
you have an opportunity to go, start
with a pleasant look on your face,
light footstep and seek to become ac
quainted with the good young people
who are there to welcome you. You
will have a pleasant hour or two,
and many times after you may see
the bright faces which beamed into
your own while friendship and love
won the day at last.
Make a promise and keep it, that
you will keep devotion’s flame bright
for all time.
uet me give tne giris a umeiy mm.
that earnestly want to marry well:
Don't take up with a gay, debonair
free lance whom you innocently
thought to be just the opposite. You
will soon find out his tendencies, and,
shorter than it takes to tell it, let
him slip past you and persevere pa
tiently in searching out a newer, dif
ferent type of attraction. The secret
is plain. The man who makes a girl's
acquaintance while being a stranger
to her home folks and biding the past
from those who introduce him, sup
posing that he is all right, never
should make that girl his wife with
out undeceiving her as to his wild
cats sowing. She knows then wheth
er she could put confidence in him
in the future or whether he would be
apt to lead her a pretty dance and
untold heart grief if she took the
chance of wedding him.
Women who will take their own
risks and believe that they can over
come any obstacle after marriage,
start, after leaving the altar, handi
capped. Different might have been
fate had they not been easily satis
fied but taken time to have searched
for a love that they were oonvinced
was worthy of their own.
SHE WHO IS A PENITENT DE
CEIVER.
In the year that’s come and gone, in the
golden weather.
Sweet, my sweet, we swore to keep the
watch of life together.
In the year that’s coming on. rich in Joy
and sorrow—
We shall light our lamp and wait life’s
mysterious tomorrow.
Ought a girl, in your opinion, to de
ceive her mother, much as she may
dislike doing so, by evading telling
her the truth regarding hor meeting
a lover? Do yon suppose joch arti
fice on her part would make, an inter
ested one consider that she would
make a good wife, loving aad true,
or would she be liable to deceive a
husband?
This is an earnest appeal from a
young man reader. I have no doubt
that a young man looking for a girl
whom he would marry would want
one who loved, honored and was in
full confidence with her parent. There
should be no excuse of any kind which
will palliate the wrongs of a girl de
ceiving her parent. The true-hearted,
frank girl has no secrets which she
does not share. If that mother, who
has her interest at heart, does not
approve of the man of her choice, be
lieve me, she knows best.
She sets at work very patiently to
win her daughter over to seeing him
as she knows him to be. At last she
tries hard to consider that it is for the
best of her to try to view him as fa
vorable as she can. This is often
done to keep peace In the famUje
The result often follows that they
marry in haste and repent at leisure.
The girl who is good, affectionate
and truthful to her parent will be the
same to a husband who is fortunate
enough to win her. Love which Is
built upon deceit is built upon the,
quicksands—and is too treacherous to>
last for a long length of time.
Only honorable, truthful love proves
happy and enduring. What man can
trust absolutely the woman whom he ,
knows is false to the mother who:
loves her, has faith in her and con
fides in her, hoping for good results?
The habit of deceit is a fearful one.i
and leads to many a woman’s undoing.
One of the poets has said and with
much truth: 1
Oh. what a tangled web we weave—
when first we practice to deceive.
It must not be forgotten, however,:
that the lover who seeks advice is
sometimes the very one who tempts
the girl to meet him and “not tell
mother.” A man should be honorable
In principle, and not lend himself to'
such subterfuge as that of deceiving.
Rest assured, he would be apt to hear
of it accusingly after marriage, and
to be reproached for his guilt.
It is cowardly to shift all the blame
on the woman. Often she is penitent,
and makes up for deceiving by becom
ing most truthful. The sweetheart
was inclined to deception by her lov
er. He respects her penitence, howev
er, as does her mother. Both have
Wen taught that it is grand to be
candid with mother.
WHEN BACHELORS MARRY.
Sigh no more, ladles, sigh no more.
Men were deceivers, ever;
One foot in sea and one on shore.
To one thing constant-never.
I used to be under the impression
that very few bachelors would ever
marry. But In this respect I have
changed my mind. It is my belief that
there never yet was a man so sure
of his powers for unloving who lived
all of his years without some ro
mance.
He may never have had proof that
he had a heart for someone until he
was aroused to the consciousness by
its sudden loss. Up to that hour of
awakening he supposed he was en
joying his solitary existence immense
ly. There is no one to call his atten
tion to his careless appearance when
he hustles to his breakfast, with collar
and necktie on he had worn for days.
No one he would have to answer to
if she was in a quarrelsome mood and
accused him of plunging at races, ex
travagance in automobile treats,
whirling through space in airships,
and all that she fancied kept pace
with his restless nature.
The Jolly bachelor is not a mystery
to those who observe him, yet only
know him from afar—a puzzle as they
imagine him to be. More than one
suspects that his heart has been
pretty well pierced by love’s flaming
arrows. Like a public conveyance,
there is always supposed to be room
for one more. Bachelors have been
known to call and have a friendly lit
tle chat with former sweethearts once
in a great while, but he don’t care to
marry any of those who struck his
fancy so that he was almost sure he
would be happy if he popped the ques
tion.
After breaking off with a few who
claimed his steady attention, he feels
that he is not half the gay, sought
after man, the would-be “catch" of the
fair sex, that he thought himself to
be. His opinion of himself has gone
down. He takes extra precaution not
to show his heart wounds to the un
feeling world. He is sure to be
watched with pardonable curiosity
when he is brought in contact with
the single of the fair sex. Habit is
everything with the bachelor; from
being a free lance, angled for by fair
women. More than one pretty parlor
he has found irksome, tame, com
pared to club, theater of men’s
company. Most all bachelors have
their pet theories and mental pic
tures. Friends and old sweethearts
do not always cater to them.
It is often, when he comes across
some poor, but honest, village or city
young woman, that his heart sudden
ly warms. She is his personification
of innocence. She treats all men sim
ply, with pleasantness. It’s hard for
them to.tell if she is given to par
tiality toward every newcomer. Her
eyes are not like those who seek con
quests, but have the bewitching un
consciousness of girlhood.
Is it any wonder that bachelors be
come good husbands when they meet
Just the one whom their hearts have
craved for? Then they Jump to the
conclusion that it’s good-by single life,
forever.
Stutters Even In Kisses.
Demosthenes, and other victims of a
partially tied tongue, please take no
tice. Today, for the first time in its
history, the supreme court, where
many curious tales have been unfold
ed, was asked to take official cogni
zance that, because a man stutters, he
is not fit matrimonial companion. A
bride of a few months asked to have
her marriage annulled mainly because
her husband has an Impediment in his
speech. Married life has been a blun
der in two gasps, a lisp and a pro
longed stutter, according to the com
plainant. But worst of all, declares
the plaintiff her husband stutters even
in his kisses. Instead of the spon
taneous smack, there is a series of
short explosions with a few branching
fizz pops before Mr. Husband can com
plete an osculatory demonstration,
she asserts.
Worthy of Thanks.
A night’s sleep, what a miracle of
mercy it is; and a new day and the
waking up with health to face it; aye,
even a pleasant meal with one’s house
hold, is not that worth a thanksgiving?
Or, an interesting book, an hour with
an old friend, a Sunday’s quiet resting,
or some new light of interest or mean
ing in one’s favorite line of study—
it is such things as these, far more
than great special blessings, which
make up the sum of the happy fife;
and it is such things if one would but
think of them more, and not be al
ways taking them as a matter of
course, which would fill our days with
thanksgivings.
A Good One.
"I don’t know what to name my
new hunting horse.”
“Why don’t you call him Sensitive?
“Why Sensitive?”
"Because I notice he so easily take*
a fence.”
1 Pattered Simlesl
CHAT BY THE WAYSIDE.
“People take life much easier than
they used to.”
“Yep,” replied Farmer Corntossel.
“There seems to be a growin’ fear
that the boys’ll study too hard an'
that the men will work too hard.”
“Still, there is every reason to be
lieve that popular interest in a pro
gressive civilization was never
stronger than now.”
“Yes. But I'm kind of afraid that
civilization will have to watch itself
so’s not to be like Lem Carruthers
after he got talked into spendin’ all
his money fur a fancy wagon. His
outfit was all driver an’ no hoss.”
Always Humorous.
Art Editor—I'm afraid your work is
too comic for general illustrating.
Artist—I suppose that means I will
have to spend the rest of my life doing
comic supplements.
“Not necessarily. You might design
women’s fashions.”—Life.
————————
A Wrong Reading.
“Ma, did the men in the old times
do the housework?”
“Of course not. What makes you
:hink so?”
"Well, in our Sunday school, the
;eacher was reading about the hus
tandman sewing tears.”
JUST LIKE SOME PEOPLE.
“Rowell is a hard worker.”
"Yes—he’d make hard work of any
thing.”
The Kicker.
And still the kicker sings his song,
A melancholy elf.
It's easier to show what's wrong
Than do what’s right yourself.
This Didn’t Really Happen.
"I won’t wear my new dresses at
Atlantic City, after all.”
“And after all the money you
spent?”
"Yes; but you see they’re packed
so nicely that 1 hate to take them out
of the trunk.”
* -
Good Reason.
“My husband fairly choked with an
ger the other day.”
“Why?"
“Because I wanted him to cough up
the price of a diamond ring.”
A Suggestion.
Young Widow—After all, I cannot
wholly grieve that my poor, dear, old
husband is gone.
Resourceful Friend—Then why not
put on half mourning?
Filling the Bill.
“I want to study, for my hero, a
man of fine tendencies.”
“Then why not try a police magis
trate?”
Letter for Letter.
“Why does a poet begin so many
of his sentences with 'O'?” said the
politician.
“There’s no answer,” replied Mr.
Penwiggle. "Why does a speech
maker begin so many of his sentences
with T?”
Not at That Price.
Mrs. Exe—I bought these goldfish
for a quarter—think of it!
Mrs. Wye—Really? They can’t be
any more than plated.
Same Denomination.
Lady (interviewing girl)—I may tell
you that we are vegetarians.
Girl (anxious to be hired)—That’s
my church, too, mum.
His Failing.
“That young surgeon carries his
profession even into his social hours."
“How so?”
“He’s such a cut-up.”
Malapropos Invitation.
“Mrs. Jigger declined very coldly
my proposal to her to Join our Shut
In society.”
“No wonder. Her husband's in Jail."
Getting Back.
“My cook left this morning merely
because I asked her ti> get dinner for
a few friends of mine.”
"I hired her, my dear, and I don’t
mind giving you a chance to get back
at her. Bring your friends over to my
house for dinner."
His Portion.
‘Will you share my portion?” asked
the poor young man.
“I fear yours is only a half portion,”
said the girl gently. “You will need It
all for yourself."
Thoughtful Worker.
“Your son seems to put a great deal
of thought into his work.” said the city
boarder.
“He shore do,” replied the old
granger. “He works fer ten minutes er
so, then sets deown an’ thinks erbout
it fer an hour er more.”
A Further Obligation.
“That man quit drinking years
ago.”
“Yes, but ibe reform is not yet com
plete. He hasn’t quit bragging about
•A ••
LAZY THING.
"Are you opposed to child labor?"
“Yes; especially when the child
grows up.”
The Curtain Lecture.
Most wives are inconsistent
When husbands drive them to it;
They say: “It's no use talking,”
Then go right on and do it.
Naturally.
"That young speeder’s car has been
very much admired.”
"Certainly, it has. I know a num
ber of people have been struck with
it"
Making Headway.
“Making any progress toward get
ting acquainted with those fashionable
people next door?”
"Just a little. Their cat invited our
cat over for a musicale last night."
Just the Man for Her.
“So you think Katherine made a
very suitable match?”
“Yes, indeed. You know what a
nervous, excitable girl she was? Well,
she married a composer.”
Accommodating.
"That rude fellow told poor little
Miss Fllte that he didn’t like her
face.”
“What did she do?”
“She changed countenance."
A Reversed Compliment.
"That was a splendid paper you read
at the club yesterday afternoon."
"Did you like it?"
"Very much. I wish my husband
could write one as good for me.”
AN INSTANCE.
"She said I was a perfect gentle
man.”
“She is always calling people
names.”
Advice From Crimson Gulch.
"Let not your angry passions rise.
It'b better to act slow an’ tame.
Fur seein’ red affects the eyes
An’ likes as not will spoil your aim."
The Right Place.
"Does the law consider a man’s
home where he sleeps?”
"Yes."
“Then my husband ought to register
from the church.”
Not for the Ear.
“Is the music for your new produc
tion meritorious?”
“I don’t know,” replied the manager.
"I haven’t seen the chorus try to
dance It, yet.”
Changes.
“James got down at one time to hard
pan.”
“But he got up again, didn’t he?”
"Oh, yes; up to a Panhard..”
The Uncertain Fallowing.
A leader marched along and found
Himself alone one day,
For his procession had turned ’round
And marched the other way.
Flimsy Finance.
"I started in life on borrowed cap!
tal,” said Mr. Cassius Chex.
“And now you have no debtsvwhat
ever?”
“On the contrary, I expanded my
credit so that 1 could go on borrow
ing more and more.”
Specifications.
"Isn't that a fine line of the poet’s
about women being human nature’s
daily food?”
"Yes, especially when they’re
peaches and chickens.”
Worse.
"Dobs your next-door neighbor wake
you in the morning with his lawn
mower as he did last year?”
“No," answered Mr. Crosslots. “I
wish he would. He has bought a new
automobile and now he comes honk
ing up the street at midnight."
Hens In Revolt.
“Must be a feminist propaganda go
ing on in the barnyard.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I notice the rooster is scratching
for himseU these day a”—Judge.
ACTS WAITER TO
SEE PRIVATE PLAY
Young San Francisco Preacher
Serves Soup So Well Friends
Don’t Recognize Him.
San Francisco.—"He also sees the
play who only Berves as waiter."
This is a new reading by Rev.
Arch Perrin, pastor of the Church of
St. Mary the Virgin, who in order to
see a play acted as a waiter for mem
bers of the Family club on their an
nual outing to their “farm" in the
foothills out from Redwood City.
Men he had married and whose
children he had christened didn't rec
ognize him. He wore a false mus
tache and a waiter’s jacket, -and he
dealt soup from the elbow without
spilling it and passed unnoticed.
The story has only just leaked out
among his parishioners.
The young pastor was very desirous
of seeing Martin V. Merle’s forest
play, “The Spirit of Youth,” presented
i J . in', ..II ■ i
Enlisted With a Band of Extra
Waiters.
with music by Case Downing in the
new open-air theater of the Family
club. He was not a member of the
club, and invitations were extended
only to out-of-town visitors.
So Father Perrin enlisted with a
band of extra waiters for the dinner
preceding the presentation of the
play, and passed the evening unde
tected.
Also, he saw the play he went to
see—and liked it.
TO RESCUE ON SURFBOARD
Officer of Steamship Carries Line to
Save Light Tenders From
Starvation.
San Francisco.—Two light tenders
at Po'nt San Lucas, the southerly end
of Lower California, were saved from
death by starvation recently by L. C.
Hansen, first officer of the Pacific Mail
Bteamer Newport.
Hansen said he would take a line
ashore. He rode breaker after break
er on a surfboard until he finally was
cast up exhausted on the shore. Han
sen was unable to move for several
minutes and the two lighthouse men
were too weak from lack of food to
haul on the line that Hansen brought
them.
After a rest Hansen was able to
heave in the line, which brought a
double line from the boat, and to this
was attached a series of life buoys with
the food made fast to them in water
tight cans.
TOSSED TWICE BY BULL
Man Hits Rafters and Starts Up for
the Second Time When
Rescued.
Berwick, Pa.—Tossed to the rafters
of the cow stable by an angry bull,
R. O. Shaffer, twenty-six, of Zenith,
narrowly escaped death before being
rescued by his father.
When the bull turned on him as he
was taking it to a watering trough he
landed on the bull's head and after
striking the rafters was tossed a sec
ond time. The father then seized the
rope fastened to the bull’s nose and
snubbed the rope around a pole, when
it turned on him. His son had two
ribs fractured and suffered contused
wounds of the body.
LEGALLY DEAD, SHE IS ALIVE
Lost Woman Turns Up in Illinois
Town and Claims Share of
Estate.
Peoria, 111.—Mrs. Anna Bergheart,
who eight weeks ago was declared leg
ally dead by County Judge Rahn at
Pekin, has now turned up very much
alive and has engaged an attorney to
regain her share of her father’s es
tate, amounting to several thousand
dollars.
Mrs. Bergheart left her home at
Mackinaw, 111., 26 miles from Peoria.
11 years ago after a dispute with rel
atives. No trace of her could be found,
though she spent the entire period in
Chicago.
DOG SAVES WOMAN’S LIFE
Carries Note Which Brings Help to
Aged Woman After Girl
Has Died.
Dallas, Tex.—A report from Cisco,
Tex., tells of the feat which a dog per
formed In getting relief to an aged
victim of ptomaine poisoning on a
farm nine miles from that place.
Miss Bettie Alexander, twenty-two
years old, had died, and Mrs. Eliza
Powers, seventy-two years, was dying
when she wrote a note which she tied
to the dog’s neck and bade him “go
home.” The dog made its way to
Cisco through a rainstorm, and rela
tives of the victims, hastening to the
farm, found Mrs. Powers unconscious.
TOMORROW
The Girl sank down on the bottom
step of the flight that led up to her
hall bedroom, and stretched out her
hands as if in pleading to some un
seen Presence. She did not cry out,
nor did the tears come, although her
gesture held all there is of pathos
in the world.
“Today has been so cruel,” she told
herself in a voice that had grown so
weary through the long hours of an
swering useless questions of thought
less shoppers that it was little more
than a whisper.
“You have me,” came a cheerful
note from the head of the stairs.
Evidently it was familiar to The
Girl, for she lifted her head and
smiled feebly at the small ethereal
figure that appeared to her more like
a clear white light than a materializa
tion.
“Tomorrow!” she whispered.
“Yes,” called down the glad young
voice. “You always have me, you
know, and nobody knows what won
derful things I hold in my hand. Why,
often I change the whole outlook of a
human life.”
“But,” objected The Girl, "today
has been so cruel.”
“Today is often cruel, but I am
never so. Put your trust in me,” an
swered Tomorrow, and there was so
much of promise in his voice that The
Girl gathered her frayed pocketbook
and shabby muff from the step upon
which they had fallen, rid herself of
some of the weariness of her over
taxed body in a long sigh, and lifted
her face toward the figure at the
head of the stairs.
And when she had gained the top
of the flight the Presence had floated
away to another vantage point, as
was always the way when she tried
to reach him and grasp the promise
that he held out to her.
“Sometimes I think you are Just
"Who are you?’’ he questioned anx- :
iously, "and what do you mean by in- E
truding at such a time?” I
"I am Tomorrow,” called the voice*
and The Man grasped the hope that 1
came with the tone and hugged it
close.
“Why, yes,” he said, “I had forgot
ten about Tomorrow. I was so close
ly companioned by Today that I had
quite overlooked you.”
Whereupon the iridescent figure of ■
the day yet to be born danced gayly ~
before The Mail’s eyes, and from a ■
distance held out hands that brimmed
with wonderful, beautiful hope. |
"I am going,” called Today weakly.
And The Man, turning to his dy
ing companion, told him that when hd
went he would go alone.
"For,” he said, "I have Tomorrow.*
The-Sick-a-Bed Lady was so very
ill that the doctors said she could
not possibly live.
"You will go out into the Great Un
known with me at the setting of the
sun," said Today, as he stood beside
her bed, and The Sick-a-Bed-LadjJ
would have held out her hand to him*
had not she been stayed by a wonder-1
ful, radiant Presence near.
Lifting her eyes she looked upon ft I
face that held all the gladness of *
the dawn, and was afraid, because in
all her life she had seen nothing bo
wondrous fair.
"Be not afraid, WHATEVER |
THINGS ARE BELIEVED ARB ;
TRUE. I am Tomorrow, and in my
hands I hold the gift of life and of
health. You have but to believe.”
The heart of The-Sick-a-Bed-Lady
gave a bound of happiness, for she
was a mother, and the little feet that
came and went down the hall on tip
toe needed he: guidance above every
thing else in the world, and witli all |
her being she yearned to believe the
words that came to her ear.
Then it was that The-Sick-a-Bed
•
i -^
“Sometimes I Think You Are Just a Poor, Cheap Fraud.”
a poor, cheap fraud,” The Girl called
to him, but he smiled back at her
from his distance, and the smile as
suaged the pain at her heart, and
brought new hope to her cheerless
life
“Tomorrow!” she said, half to the
Presence and half to herself. "Ah, if
it were not for the faith and the hope
1 have in Tomorrow I could never go
on.”
Through innumerable unwise moves
The Man's business had got into
such a terrible mess that there seemed
no extrication from it He sat alone
in his office at the close of a winter s
day, and beside him sat i.he Spirit of
Today.
“What a loathsome creature you
are,” said The Man to his compan
ion.
"I am what you made me,” an
swered Today, reproachfully.
’ “And within the hour I die,” con
tinued the dejected Spirit.
“Then,” said The Man, “1 will die
with you. It is a good suggestion. I
have made a mess of my life, and
most of all of you. You were good
to me at the dawn, but now that twi
, light gathers, I see that it is all my
fault. I have ruined you. We will
go out together.”
So The Man put his affairs quickly
in order while Today reminded him
that the evening shadows were length
ening, and that if he was to die with
him he would have to hurry.
“I am getting weak—I am dying,"
whispered Today to The Man.
“Just a moment,” answered The
Man.
And while he hesitated there came
to his consciousness a strange Im
pression. At first it seemed like a
message expressed through some me
dium other than words. Then distinct
ly it assumed sound.
“There is always Tomorrow and
the possibilities it holds,” came the
words clearly to The Man’s ear.
_v . - -
Lady summoned the very essence of
her being and demanded of it belief
in the promise of Tomorrow.
Turning to The Husband she gave
him a tender smile, and because she
was too weak, she merely nodded to^
ward the precious Presence standing
afar oil holding out his hands that
were brimming full of life and health
if only The-Sick-a-Bed-Lady would be
lieve.
And when she awakened from her
wonderful sleep Today had slipped out
of being—alone—and the doctors said
that somehow a miracle had been
wrought and that The-Sick-a-Bed-Lady
would live.
Whereupon The-Sick-a-Bed-Lady an
swered back with a smile that she had
only ‘‘believed in Tomorrow.”
Destroying Germs.
Chemists employed by hospitals
have found that disease germs dla
quickly on certain building materials.
It has been found by the tests made
that the strongest or most resistant
germs perish within a day when
placed on the surface of linoleum.
This is due to the large quantity of
linseed oil used with the cork in mak]
ing linoleum. Tests have also showi^
that it is the use of linseed oil as ai
binding medium which gives to many]
wall paints their claim of being effec
tive for hospital use. It is claimed
that as the oil leaves the paints they
lose their powers of sterilization.
No Rivalry.
A visitor was being shown over a.
big cotton mill by the proprietor, whd
proudly displayed some of the fabrloa
produced. Holding up a piece of print]
ed calico, he said: “Our latest pattern.!
Excellent work, isn’t it?” "Ife all
right," said the visitor, “but you can’t;
hold a candle to the goods we turn out]
In my works!" "Same line?" asked the
host, somewhat offended. “No," re
joined the other; “ours is gunpowder I**]
