4
THE NEBRASKA INDEPENDENT
APRIL 11, W)7.
ehip can exist between a man and a
woman unless there has been or will
be u warmer sentiment at the bottom
of it. The sexes are kept bo widely
apart in childhood and in youth that
they always remain somewhat of a
mystery one to the other, and that
feeling of absolute comfort, which ex
ists between nn American man and
woman is something that is unknown
in this country.
TIkS American woman is Just the op
posite to her Kngll.sh sister. From
earliest infancy she has an opportunity
to know boys and. men as they really
are Just plain human beings, some of
them good, some of them bad; some of
them noble, Burne of them ignoble;
some of them fine, some of them rough.
And surely the women themselves, on
the whole, must be good and pure and
noble, or else the American man. with
his quick intelligence, his fine brain,
and his subtle mind, would never have
held so persistently to his ideal. The
Americal likes not only the-one woman,
but women. He takes the trouble to
understand their , point of view, their
lives, and their occupation, lie is in
terested in them, he finds them com
panionable and makes friends of them,
and he has studied them appreciatively
and helped them in their development.
You will hear at a lunch party one
American woman say to another, "Isn't
Elizabeth radiant today; doesn't she
look a love in that mauve hat and that
bunch of violets in her. silver belt?
Isn't she Just too cunning for any
thing?" And Elizabeth will toss her
head and flush up with pleasure, and
a sort of cordial, comfortable atmos
phere goes round the table. Any
demonstration of this kind in England
or allusions to hats or flowers would
be considered personal and ill-bred. The
Ideal conversation is about inanimate
objects, antiques for preference. Thus:
"Are there any Runic crosses in this
neighborhood?"
"Yes; there is one very fine specimen
about nine miles from here. Are you( a
good walker?"-.
"Oh, yes, with stout boots, begin
ning rather eariy in the morning and
taking a sandwich. I can manage it."
"I befleve the hieroglyphics on this
particular Runic cross are marvelous.
There is only one man who has ever
been able to get their meaning at all
He left a pamphlet on the subject, but
for the moment the name of it es
capes me," and so on. Now, this sort
of conversation Runic crosses, what
sort of starch Queen Elizabeth used
In her ruff, and whether, Bacon wrote
Bhakespeare, and - if clay soil induces
rheumatism, (although this is verging
on" the.'.' personal) commits - you- to
nothing; it is better never 'to " talk
about anything human unless in , a
tete-a-Jjate or with a most intimate
friend.
The American woman, with her quick
perception, her lively Intelligence, her
opportunities of knowing and under -Ftanding
something of human nature,
and the protection and the care that
she receives from her men, is the most
fortunate woman in existence. Some
limes perhaps she asks too much of
life, but she also gives a great deal.
Khe is capable, "well read, witty; she
Is gowned beautifully, an! '"ears her
clothes with distinction, and her taste
is an instinct.- The taste of a lady in
England is a question of three genera
tions at least. It is a thing of culti
vation. With an American it is simply
an instinct. Indeed, the taste of the
American woman is one of the most
remarkable things about tier.
I take for example a woman in Ixu
, isville, who has absolutely perfect
taste. She always rejects the'false and
selects the true in everything. She is
a beautiful judge of stuffs and of old
china, of old silver, of pottery; she
understands pictures, tapestries and
fine embroideries, and in her own dress
and her own habits, she is as dainty as
a flower. Her discrimination of the
good is in no way superior to that of
very many American women, and, what
Is almost as valuable as taste, they
have a certain chic, which is not at all
like French chle, a little daring and
HARNESS 0:! HORSE COLLARS
Witb ibis Brand cn m the Best Hade
sometimes even a little vulgar, but in
an American it is just a pretty co
quetry.
The thing that the American woman
has to be most proud of is that she
has a mark upon this old and conserv
ative civilization. Englishwomen have
looked on in wonder at the comfortable
intimacy, the agreeable friendship, and
the helpfulness of one American wo
man to another, and they are begin
ning to copy American manners; they
are beginning to be agreeable to each
other. Twenty years ago, when'I first
came to England, after a large dinner
party, while the women were waiting
In the drawing room for the men, they
positively glared at each other like the
Guelphs and Ghibellines, ready to do
battle at an instant's notice. Scarcely
a wora was spoicen except a lew
phrases here and there in a high sus
picious voice. Englishwomen are now
more or less polite to each other, and
more or less informal, and the Ameri
can woman has set the example. I
said not long ago to an Englishman
who told me that he detested the
American accent, that he ought to be
come accustomed to it as quickly as
possible, because the next house of
peers would speak with an American
accent. And, I added, the accent will
be west of the Mississippi, as all of
their heiresses east of that mighty riv
er have been married by Impecunious
foreigners. He begged my pardon and
said that he didn't understand the
humor of my remark. But there wasn't
any humor in 11; it was simply a state
ment of cold facts. And if there is
ever a genuine understanding and a
real entente cordiale between the two
countries, it will be due to that won
derful, that gracious, that daring prod
uct, the American woman.
Village Life.
Ask Your beater tu Snow Them
DKFOllB YOU 11 UY
Mnufcturd by
HaUPHAM BROS. CO.
LINCOLN, NCO.
New York Weekly; 'We freely sur
render to those who love them all the
advantages of town and city life the
hum of business and headlong haste,
the crowded streets, the fierce excite
ment that forever throbs along their
mighty arteries! In the city the'pulse
is at fever-point and enterprise is white
with heat. Give us the country with its
healthy hue, the broad, deep impress of
quiet and calm, of witching loveliness
and winning beauty give us the fall
of lofty fountains and the bend of stir
ring, branches, and the bud that brings
the swiftest thought of beauty give us
the country with its woods and waters,
its fields and fells, its stretching hills
where the first beams of light shoot
down. The sun is brighter in the coun
try, the sky is bluer, and the wafts of
wind tell softer, more melodious tales.
There the . purest and best feelings of
the heart flourish fairer and freer, and
fade not so suddenly nor so soon, for
they drink in love from the flowers and
the morning dew and the still stars of
heaven!
Yes! we lore the country, and touch
ing now after a lapse of years on this
our rural life, we feel we must linger
over it a while and "babble of .green
fields." We evoke the phantoms of the
past and write a pastoral for our read
ers; painting for them the landscapes,
sunny or snow-clothed,, and glancing
at the joys and sorrows, the loves and
woes of our village Arcadia!
"Our village was romantically situated
at the foot of a range of hills, which
girdled it round on three sides, and
towered up boldly to heaven like chiv
alry protecting innocence. The coun
try about was of that soft, pleasant
description which is the peculiar prop
erty of the lowland landscape. Not
much of the rugged or sublime was
there no craggy rocks, no frowning
precipices where the young eagle's
spirit is nursed to daring and his eye
taught to look unblinkingly on the sun.
There were no waterfalls, nor frown
ing forests, nor vast praties, with
scenes oC sublime and stirring inci
dents which nature seems in soma
places to have struck out in a moment
of angry excitement. All was calm, and
quiet, and secluded, tranquil as a sum
mer sunset, green with meadows and
corn-fields, and swelling slopes, and
rivers with the morning dew of youth
about them ere their circuit had ex
panded and their strength -grown full
to sweep .them onward to the sea.
There were' silent, shady woods around,
ad hills and vales alternating, and
mossy seats by brooks which mur
mured pleasantly like voices in a
dream, while over all a clear, delicious
calm appareel to hover, like a vestige
of the spirit which hovered over the
world when time was young and earth
had not the brand of pin upon its
brow. It was easy to lose oneself in
large plantations or stroll about and
muse the livelong - summer day, and
watch the birds and butterflies, and
listen to the tapping of the woodpecker
and the low, lazy rustling of the wind
among the trees. We could fish for
trout in the stream and delicately
flavored were the trout In that stream
and If our luck was bad, as some
times it happened ho, we could nit down
upon the grass and smoke our pipe,
and watch with languid pleasure the
kingfishers dive and dart away, 'heir
blue ba -ks glancing In the kuii. When
(ireutiut f'rt, we nave encountered a
badger, now and anon a pole-cat. and
not unrrenuf ntly we have met a fox at
nhjitfall returning with a well-tUbd
Monmch and a guilty eoncline from
a fiui'vtsi-ful foray on winw ih Igh'ooi lug
hen-roost. Then when the moon was
up wo have caught bat by the score
and listened to the mvU makla
mournful inu.'dc ftnd te.ichlmr their lit-
I tie owlet how to Vvltoop.
We have a weaklier for owls; they
look to warm and cozy, feathered to
tin very too; and they hiw wii iuui
withal, of a grave appearance and do
ruiou manners. Thy di iut obtrude
th'!iM-lvn upon the public and clamor
tor It udmtniMon. Thy do not hop
ubout coqut ttthly In the Hunbln wnd
till and c liWo fowl of, fewer y.r
, ;
and less experience. They do not swag
ger in the fields in a roystering fash
ion and shout for slugs. Nor do they
disturb the peaceful country with un
seemly bickerings. They sit at home
.all day and attend to domestic matters,
There philosophizing on the vanity of
the pursuits of birds in general. Then,
in the eventide, when the earth is
calm and the air cool, they take silent
and solitary flights, pick up field mice
or something light for supper, and,
returning to their comfortable roost
again with a sound digestion, from the
depths of their warm chests they call
in measured cadence to their neigh
bors, and send up mellow anthems to
the moon. We love the owl, and record
our admiration of him here( for, mark
you, he is not always to be met with.
We have watched for - him in seques
tered places as astronomers watch for
comets. We have followed liim to his
dim retreats and waited patiently for
his coming out, as some folk wait and
watch to see a great man leave his
house, '
Our village was a grand place for
owls. It was none of the new-fangled
watering-places, with villas, semi-detached
cottages, and such heathen edi
fices. There were1 no patent palings
there, no paving-stones, no fashionable
promenate. Policemen with helmets
and truncheons, plate glass and stuc
coed fronts were utterly unknown, and
the commissiooers of sewers , were
looked upon as myths, or at least at
all events as remote from the interests
of the villagers as the politics of Tim
buctoo. The shrieking rattle of the lied
Republican the railway had never
disturbed the peace of our village. It
was a waif which the march of time
had left untouched with all its vener
able beauties clustering round it. And
in these days when the schoolmaster is
abroad with a birch as well as a book;
when the ruthless hand of the destroy
er is shaking the sands in the hour
glass of the relics of the past; when
shops and streets spring up like mush
rooms from the ruins of the eiuaintold
houses of our sires; when the eccentri
cities of the age are shaping them
selves in the ever-hungering metropolis
of trusts, the rascality of political
grafters; when young England, clothed
in motley, performs a pantonine and
shakes his cap and bells at his vener
able parent, who stands by dyspeptic
and disconsolate; in these days, wc say,
it is pleasant to leave the seething so
cial caldron bubbling in the distance, to
get away from the blinding dust and
the roaring din, to find some green
oasis by the palm-tree wells a little
knot of persons who care not to wres
tle in the march of life, who lover to
dwell among their flocks and. herds and
smoke the pipe of peace at their own
tent door, as the patriarchs of old.
Our village inns wore long, strag
gling buildings, with sin-boards that
swung on poles; our houses were
roofed with thatch and fitted up with
little cabin-looking window, which
blinked drowsily on the passer-by. The
rooms were constructed of ail shapes,
or rather of no shape at all; floors and
ceilings were generally 1-clincd pianos.
You encountered niyfe-lerious-loolvlng
cupboards and closets in the most un
likely situations, and as for getting up
stairs, he was a bold man who would
attempt the feat without a steady foot
and a watchful eye.
Our architectural structures and
beaut leu were not numerous, consisting
principally of the parish church a fin
old building, flanked by thsve vincr
ablo mansion, jut crumbled and
weather-beaten enough to look roman
tfc. The people In gineral partook of
tie; character of the village. They
Jogged steadily along the old path-, m
their fathers bad done before them,
not turning aside to pursue uuir;;h
llrcs and wandering meteor. They
counted no latter day Kiliit among
ih.-'.r number, and It tvs- f !d'", In
deed, that any one embraced the ldu
of emigration. Homeopathy had tv-ner
dawiud upon their minds, und Us won.
derful gtobub'M aivri more wondrful
theory, and the wHtr-cur und nn-w-liubiu
bad not then lwii drowned of.
Llothers ! Mothers ! t tVlmhers ! ! f
Mrs. Wkislow's Soothing Syrup
fcas been used for over SIXTY YEARS by MIt
UONS of MOTHERS for their CHILDREN
While TEETHING, with PERFECT SUCCESS.
It SOOTHES the CHII.D, SOFTENS the GUMS,
AIXA.YS all PAIN ; CURES WIND COIJC, and
is the best remedy for DIARRHOEA. Sold by
Druggists in every part of the world. I5e sure
and ask for "Mrs. Winslow's Soothiuq; Syrup,"
and take uoother kind. Twenty-live c I.;, a bof.tle.
There were but two Quakers in the
town, and Unitarian the latter, by the
way, being a barber, who sold patent
medicines, and preached heresy during
the intervals of business. High upon
the moor, long and- drear in winter
time," were beings as eccentric as those
we read of in "Shirley" and ''Watering
Heights savage as the scenes that
surrounded, and primitive as the prim
eval spot they inhabited. Of course, as
is the lot of all places, we had one or
two souls saturated with radicalism,
with whom the times were always bad,
and the world always wrong men of
a bilious habit and a blighted aspect,
who slunk about the village like incen
diaries, and perpetually prophesied -universal
ruin; but, like a dose of quinine,
they seemed to give -.us a better appe
tite for things as : they were.
The great and all-absorbing , w orld,
with its endless cares and encroach
ments, did not intrude upon our village
prerogatives. We were unmolested by
the eager and noisy claims of com
merce and the zealous champions of
"women's rights" and total abstinence.
We were allowed to go on in our own
way to mind our own business to
love our own wives as we thought best,
and to love, and suffer, and die just as
nature provided. Our village was not
paradise, nor was it free from gossip
and whisper; but it was not given up
to political excitement and religious
fanaticism it had a good eleal of very
charming indolence of an "I don't care"
sort of freedom. Above all, it was a
place where the charities and courte
sies of the tVul more than those of the
body were nutured. Public life and
large cities tend to develop an over
weening masculinity; all the harder
and stronger elements of character
corhe to the surface there. It seems to
us that the gentler phases of character
are born in, and developed, by. a coun
try life and residence. It is true in more
ways than one that ."God made the
country man made the town." It is to
memories of the country of. the good
times spent there that " many of us
ow-e our highest retrospective pleasure.
We seem to become over again the
happy, careless, lazy, contented crea
tures of our youth; the old remem
bered landscape, the same rippling
stream, the old oak trees skirting our
infant home all come back to memory
fragrant and sweet, tender and smiling,
and we feel .ourselves once more the
children of nature and the village
home! . f
Nerve
Sick
If weak, worn-out,
nervous, cannot sleep;
have indigestion, head
ache, neuralgia or peri
odic pains, it is because
your nerves are weak. It
is the lack of nerve force
that makes the stomach,
heart, lungs, etc., work
imperfectly become sick.
Dr. Miles' Nervine cures
the sick when it restores
nerve strength, and puts
the power behind the or
gans to do their work.
"Alir.ost three years I Buffered from
nervomnrns. Indirection, und pulpita
tlon of tlii hPMi't. 1 could not But or
bleep with tomfart, or walk or tallc
without nufferlrgr. Altogether l whs
In n bad condition. My dot tor did not
B'ttm to do too any good. I had tried
bo many remedlea that I did not huvo
much bopo of anv of thm doing inn
nny pood. Pr. MIW Nervine was
pumteMeil by a fli1. 1 tot relief
from tlio first, and iftr a f",v d.Tya
1 Mt like ft nw pron. It t " ly
Tfllevrd my heart and iki. but
law Invlporuted my whole ntni. I
rm very Krat'-ful bTHtitB n'rn' I have
itoppid tiHln If, I havi) had absolutely
or my oM froiMil.
Mf'.H. UO'VA!:!' VitT
vo return
ft Summit Ave., V orear .M .!.
Dr. Miles' NfrvlnB It aold by your
flrugql. who will n'rante t'mt tn
f.rt bottle will beneilt. If It falls, h
will rtfuncf your money.
Miles Medical Co., Elkhart, Ind