a —_ tt tn _—mammme Time was when we both were quite clean and new, And never had known a tear; But that was the time when Little Boy Blue Kissed us and put us here. And he bade us wait and not to play, “And not to make any noise.” And mutely we promised that we'd obey, And we have, say the little toys. We haye waited for hours and years, say they, With life at its afternoon, Without moving one inch while time flies away: ‘Then surely he is coming soon! For years we have waited for Little Boy Blue, Each in his same old place, Longing to hear him laugh and coo, Longing to see his face. Perhaps he has gone forever and aye, Perhaps he has fiown to a farther shore, Where angels and cherubs play! it is growing late and he comes no more, And we're tired and old, say they. The Record. JIM'S WOMAN. im had come home. As he pushed a Jag came. Bums, ae Pues and half-routed the woman on |. the “Hey!” the man announced with a note of elation in his voice. "I gotta job! Go to a ci sil. io glial at te u a flushed face of his wife and at her swollen Sick? No, not that. Jim knew what was wrong, and was minded to wake her up and have it out with her. He had come home to tell her that work was to begin next week on the new library building. He would throw dirt; after- ward he might carry brick. It was good news, but the woman slept. There was no supper ready for him, no fire. That is the way she did things; she a1) ot ing his gri As he m was nursing his ance. kindled the fire, he ok woman, and from time to time blew on his fingers, his breath like smoke; for the room was as cold as the gray street outside, where the twilight wind was whisking billows of dust over the broken pavement. Obstinately the man asked himself why his woman wanted to treat him like this. He rubbed his chilled hands together, and his rough palms made a dry, sound. He had been ill used; that was quite plain, and now he would see about it. Only he did not like to begin; for that was an ordeal not to be undertaken unless he was in a humor for brawls. It was first necessary to warm himself, excite his temper, get angry; then he would be less afraid to say anything he had to say. So he produced a flask from his pocket, and half its reddish-amber contents went gurgling down his throat. He then gave mouth an awkward wipe along his strong, heavy wrist and along the base of his thumb. A solid hand was Jim's with broad, inflexible fingers—the half-closed hand of the cnmmon laborer. Having drunk, the man breathed deep; he felt better, but not yet ready for a stout quarrel. He could not find heart to be as dissatisfied as he wanted to be. Of course it was cold here; yes, that was so; it was cold, and not nice to find his wife like this: but all the same, he had a job, and now things would go better. That was ever the way with Jim. He was always promising himself that things would go better when he had a job. Only he could never manage to stay at work. Yet the prospect of continuous employ- ment was such good cheer that he took another drink, and then fell to getti himself something to eat. He rum out some stale pieces of pork from the cupboard, swore mildly when he could not find things, whistled a tuneless tune when he could, and withal was not badly dis- While his supper was smolng greasily on the stove, Jim had scarcely thought of his wife; but as he was forking the last brown and withered bit of meat from the skillet, he hesitated an instant, looking jowsnl the bed, then let the morsel drop Having fed himself, he tilted his chair complacently against the wall. and was soon putting away at his pipe. In the meantime woman has over, and opened dull Se upon him. She had noth- ing to say. He had nothing to say. As she put her feet ny to the floor gud sat on the of the bed, She dumb- y regarded him, propped u her red hands. id “Awful hot in here,” she complained, and her palms went to her temples. Jim said nothing, but smoked deliber- aly “Did n't hear yeh come in,” she added. "Mus’ been turrible wore out.” “Yeh sure must, Jen,” he replied with | the indifferent humor. “Bottle over there by the bed is lookin’ considerable worn out, Joo. 0 He removed his pipe to add: "Gotta J The woman paid no attention to the cheerful end of the remark. She was in a mood to take offense. “Well,” she retorted, "you ain't got no call to say nothin.” The man relighted his pipe, took a free draft of smoke into his mouth, and, blow- edly: again, said almost good-natur- tter eat now.” Jen got to her feet, but showed no in- terest in her food. She d a chair over to the window, Where cold, as it came whiffing in about sash, migh soothing to her head. She sat heavily down, with elbows on the sill, while the strong stirred tbe ed cur- tains of lace, that sorry smirk of - ability with which squalor loves to deck Occasionally Jim turned his eyes in the direction oF the woman with a half-con- interest; for even as she slouch- A ES —————— - She needed no answer, and received ' head. Then the two almost timidly kissed “I think you understand,” Sun- THE ROAD TO YESTERDAY. FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. none. The building at the corner was | each other. derland began, "how it is that m— renee : ablaze with lights. On the window wasa * !” she whispered, and the man a child, especially a child like this, should | Will some wise man who has journeyed DAILY THOUGHT. sign, "The German Shamrock,” and in | laughed quietly, went to sleep. be surrounded by the best of influences. Over land and over sea, The WE er of light the center of the glass was a | A new era had opened for Jim Mackenna. 1 think you know, too, how every child | To the countries where the rainbow i Vineiess aay bath Seumg of light: head of virulent green cabbage i For several days the family continued needs the help of example.” And the glorious sunsets be, AR tea Ta ow no : two steins. Already the jangling ' an re apeY: cradit to him. The He Pd woman hoarsely ar- | Kindly tell a little stranger, Somme soli Suro i might piano had to clamor, and occasion- | house was clean; the curtains had been ticulated: Who has oddly lost her way, ry a. ally a nasal roar of popular song could be : washed; it was surprising what his wife “Yes.” Where's the road that she must travel — rs. Hermans. heard. could do if she once made up hermind to Then there was silence. The clack of To return to Yesterday? 3 The dainty, Dutch collars which itis lively down there, not stupid, like | it As to what she could do with a baby heels outside on the marble corridor was P . are still worn in house, are not hard Sethe 2 pitch or cribbage, 2 on In Sh, it awe, Jen wl Suet d ig " t With Todes. and cannot read sir > y SI ey BL he or j aL might to drop an's face put . sim way is to cut the collar in . self, hear music, listen to stories, be oo i forth her arms, with the baby upon them; | What its strange, mysterious sign posts | and then cover it with alternate strips of ciable. lim turned up his collar and was | But the gossips of the vicinity said she she rested him upon the table. Then, | _ Tell of ways and where they lead. lace and embroidery. In this way there Shoat ready to leave Vien ho head id 3 | was so fit person lo de take An of a child. slowly, carefully, she drew her arms Asher hess abraids e fur orc. sles waste’ than i the ! ye Te , thumping . Yet i t ! not be- away. : yay. t r t ar is cut out. promptly jerked the door open, there was | lieve It ven if she had quit, it would “Fake him,” she said. “l ain't fit." | When she feil asleep last evening - nothing but darkness before him, aa tbe for oply a very ghost time, That in: The court waited, but the woman did | And abandoned Yesterday. The as in style again. Tie distant scurry of running feet. : deed, was conviction whole not up. : bang come 2 "Kids!" he exclaimed; but as he peer. | neighborhood, and it was through some I am sorry.” he said, “I'm sorry Ms. | Foe ct deal pesleced aE ule which forces gis’ to od ito the Bight, he saw 3 was of some- that the hand of the law fell Mackenna, but I think it is best to take | , ‘0 7 "=e FICHE Fone: wif Nay was Suppised to thing on the -step. The flesing four { upon Mrs. Mackenna and her little boy. the baby from you. I am going to give! “rp ° ahve fairly might hve Woo bo a i yet here, Suddenly, i 1s steps quickly died away, and as he -| One day a pudgy man with a star on him to some one whom 1 believe® will 85 she's The to tern her backura s A table ore 1 : ed, he looked warily down at the confus- | the of his waistcoat, a deputy sheriff, make him 2 good mother—some one 1 “oC tel TF 0 BIEATC aE 2a boulevas athats thete, it gh shave nese is fee. "Then be beards | brought the woman, a paper which she ed tv kw. Fin going fo ove Bm 10 ipso so iyi Learns ye ewe , at once rse | tore to n e as ~Jennie Mac » i . : i > s and sharp. - soon as he was When Jim came The woman looked at him dully. | ‘Where's the roudio Yesterday? Nicholas, | Young Women, and Bh yeiy to “Lord!” said Jim, bending stiffly togath- | home, she told him ali about it. “You understand, don't you?" he asked. | a | imitate 1 HE: tet considera a- er up an armful of what seemed old rags. | Her husband said nothing. He did not “Jennie MacDonald is to have him, I'm | Xion, whidl As Saell) an objection, is From out this bnndle, as he raised it complain that supper was not ready for going to depend on her to be the kind of | Manners and the Immigrant. ey al hig hale} from the step, the high-pitched wailing | him. He L mother he ought to have. Are vou will- + oS i eh, dave enough hair in came again. | “Juv'nile court,” he said, “is like p'lice ing to shake hands with me on that?” We have recently written in these col. front to make a bang, They can, there, Swift as a cat, his wife ‘sprang toward | court. You have t' go, or else they come Ray slowly, very uncertainly, the wom- | umns of the regrettably passive attitude | on hi a Jaye 11 t’ own him. : | after you.” Awhile he was silent, and an got up from her chair. reached | toward the subject of manners on 13 Sar oy Be t orcas Hem "Give it here!" she ordered. “Light | then he added in a quiet voice: “Guess for the baby, gathered him up greedily of many well-bred Americans, result- | Io Sw 1 ™y ign #t may 510.2 by a the lamp!" Then her red hands wentbur- | we can’t have him Jen; guess they won't and pressed him tight. Then, without a | Ing, as it does, in a great impairment of | BL vl cy ne lpg rari rowing rapidly among the rags. : leave us keep him." syllable, across the little white bundle in | the function which breeding should have | tor o> i ££ re two varieties— “Just look a’ there, Jim!" she cried, a| “Why?” she asked. “Why won't they?” her arms, she held out her hand to the |in civilization. A weak indifference to! The da Jor evening. : and vibrant note in her voice. | But Jim had nothing to say.. Nor had judge.—By Abery Abbott, in the Century | the invasion of the peace and happiness | ytime getup is a part in the “Just look a’ there!” ! Jen anything further to say. She con- Magazine. | of society hy the vulgar, selfish, or un- Witte, [utati and pubis on wich But she could not wait for him to look. fined herself to action. First she rum- { trained is not a small or negligible mat- The ban : Ngnoh worl i | maged out a bundle from under the bed. sn Appeal to the Court of Public Opin- | 17: There is, however, an point of | © he bang isnot our oldstraight accquaint- 7 : 5 4 and caught a glimpse br caught a ve Which the blue-skin t Hh he away. His wife was disgusted with him. “Can't do nothin’ but stan’ there demanded an’ gawp * she “Don’t you see it 's starvin'?” Then she told him what to do. He was to get milk at Rosenstein’s. He was to get a rubber nipple at thedrug-store. He was to hurry. But Jim was in no haste. Rebellion was in him, physical aversion, silent hos- tility. He would have nothing like that around, not he. What did mean? What was she going to do with it? With these questions repeating them- selves in his mind, the man went lumber- ing out into the street and down toward German Shamrock.” Doubtless he would have gone in if he had not seen Andy Dugan in there, a teamster with whom he had quarreled about a spade. Now, Jim did not want to have trou- ble. It gets to be a t nuisance to quarrel so much. Perhaps, then, if he were to do what his wife asked of him, he might even avoid a row with her. So he irresolute in front of the saloon, while his wife, left alone, s to the fire, opening the lower door of the stove to give it further draft. y and by, with the child against her shoulder, she brought a bottle from the put it on the hearth. Then she sat down again, holding up a corner of the blanket to shield Ean from the direct heat. All the while her arms were swaying gently, and in her throat she was mak- ing soft, hushing noises. was still sitting so, the firelight al rosy on her face. when her h 's half-reluctant tread struck the threshold. “Put just a little in a basin,” she said, and smiled gently as she spoke. “Then bring it here to warm.” ith fumbling hostility, Jim did his wife's bidding, and at the first touch of nourishment, the strained cry of the child was hushed. Then, as warmth and comfort permeated the tiny body, the fixed stare cf the eyes grew softer, and the bluish lids to blink with coming drowsiness, but thread-like fingers of the hand which lay outside the rags kept clutching aimlessly. | As Jim looked at the child, he extended one of his own thick fingers, and with ex- treme caution touched the baby's wrist. Then he glanced up into his wife's face with a sheepish and fatuous grin. “Turrible little, ain't it? like it would get broke awful . Who do you s'pose the kid b'l to?” “Don't ong to y,” she pro- claimed, and caught the child her breast. “Starvin' it,—that's what they was,~—starvin’ it to death!” With a shade of the man asked: “Yer ain't goin’ t’ keep it, Jen?" “Ain't I?” The glance of the woman flashed a challenge, and for atime nothing more The baby was unswathed, made clean, nd wrapped warm. Jim watched his wife as her deft hands cared for the child, : For a long time he had known there was somethi Wrong about her or about him, or about both of them—something wrong that they should quarrel so much and not get along any better; but he never knew reason. Sometimes he said it was “booze,” but that could never rightly ex- plain what the matter was. It was So easy to have words, be have a row. He would dri Jen would drink, and there would be another row. But tonight she did not talk mean to him; she was different; there was something glad in her face. “I like to see you do that,” he said to i her, and she smiled. But he was not going to pamper the woman. “It won't ver he said. His wife only squinted her eyes at him and looked saucy. fi Ta ese 0 talk 9 pac talked hey ou to say; t more had talked tween her and the wall. “I don't s'pose,” he began—*don’t s' he—could sleep in the middle, could he?” “You'd roll on him, that's what you'd do,” she said. you “Naw, I wouldn't,” Jim answered; “but I guess he’s all right where he is.” His wife said nothing. She raised her protruded. i pt again, and turned i i i | i cupboard, rinsed it with hot water, and | land and a thought, a new idea, came to him. | her a parcel corded up in ayer after Jayer of lusty which crackled into bits as she wx them. They had en- too, ; veloped a petticoat with a flounce of tiny features coarse embroidery was drawn so | white, now yellow with age. There was —a petticoat once also a ing white plume, a pair of blue satin slippers, and a white woolen shawl. Jen regarded the feather and the blue slippers a moment, then wrapped them up again, and put them back. It was a long time since she had made the frocks which a BS wear to dances. t liked to prove the train of it by her re- flection in the glass. Jen seldom looked in the glass any more, but, everything it was perhaps just as well. As for this old finery, some of it would be useful. The woman sewed with dili- e; all through the night she sewed. BE pals Misa ro rost, back slowly and folded her wedding petti- coat. From the flounce it had square section, but the baby had an em- broidered cap. The shawl was gone, but the baby had a small, white cloak. So that hen remembered 0 little boy upon the table, he was clad in all that any well-kept baby need have. The woman herself was outwardly tidy and composed. A few le were scattered about the room, but she was unaware of them. She was studying the face of Judge Sunder- . Leaning forward, with palms on the arms of his chair, he silently regarded the wee, drawn features and waxen hands of the infant, while in his eyes was genu- ine concern. Presently he looked up in- tively at the probation officer who st at his elbow. That functionary briefly recited the facts. “The mother abandoned the baby. She is now i the city jail. Of course she ee not at a proper person to have child. It looks a lot better now than it did. This woman wants to keep it. Her name is Mackenna.” The baby fretted, and Jen took him back in her arms, rocked him to and fro, and snuggled his pinched little face against her cheek. “This is a sick baby,” said J Sun- derland, and his voice was gentle; but his next words struck terror to the woman. “It should be taken to the Child Saving Institute.” The probation officer nodded a val. Mrs. Mackenna bit her lip. Her face slowly crimson, and when she spoke, r eyes filled; but the tears did not fall. "You ain’t goin’ to take him away from me, Judge?” . The court fixed his eyes upon her. Kind eyes they were, but steady and Strangely deep. baby,” he reasoned, “needs fessional care—needs a trained tay: Jealousy defending her cause, the woman : “No nurse can't train him no better'n I can.” 5 The “provation officer tittered, but his Honor did not even smile. He was look- ing gravely into the woman's face. to school ue: Sixth, oA ust across the aisle. I was Jennie Listeners about the court-room were g iling. The himself both rong and amie . are said. Nes, I remember Jennie MacDon- some since then. ve got along some better 'n I have. Mebbe 11 just thought mebbe—if you knew who I husbond willing?” he ques- "Yes." “Have you any children?” The woman opened dry lips and swal- lowed. . “I ain't never had any.” The judge was peering intently into her face. “Do you drink?” he asked. Jen had been ready. She looked pink-cheeked girl used She that “| sist upon equality before the law. This uality, however, has been denied to iss Nellie Farnham, a uate of the ion, | It is well known in Philadelphia, that | the chief purpose of the State Registra- | tion of Nurses, in addition to maintaining high prices and fostering trade unionism | is destroying the Philadelphia School for Nurses—that institution having declared | for gratuitous nursing care for the sick | poor and for a skilled nursing service to i e of moderate means at such rates | as they can afford to pay. Graduates of the Two Year Course of this school are eligible to register, under | | the law. They can also nurse independ. | | ent of registration in this, and in all other | the scope of their indifference between heavy Greek bandeletter that are going | States. The Philadelphia School for | | Nurses does not a of State Regis- | tration in any form. It is content to | {have its nurses stand on merit, rather than on any favoritism in law, besides | | the school takes the position that the doc- tor should be the only legal authority in | the sick-room, and that the introduction | of any other authority is detrimental and us, / owever, if the graduates of thisschool | wish to exercise the right to acquire the , | questionable benefits of such a measure, | we think, as free-born daughters of the ' | Commonwealth, they have a right to in- ! Two Year Course in the Philadelphia | | School for Nurses, and now chief nurse | in the Maternity Hospital at Sunbury. i This so-called “State Board of Examin- | ers for Registration of Nurses” has de- | nied to egistar Miss Farnham, not on | the Eon of incompetency, for her | $e WR, recor in private nursing, and | i n her present position, pre- cludes such an excuse, but simply and solely on the ground that she is a u- | ate of the Philadelphia School for Nurses. | Her beautiful service in ministering to | the sick-poor of this city during the en- | tire wo ears of her course in this | school, and passing rigid examina- | tions with credit and her subsequent ca- | reer as a successful nurse, is a crime in the eyes of this politically constituted board, which is loudly proclaiming “for the safety of the public,” and using the Legislative club on the graduates of an institution which is regularly chartered by this Commonwealth and which has been rendering a matchless service of helpfulness for fifteen years. , in behalf of the graduates of this school and keeping in mind the American notion of justice and fair play, we appeal to the Court of Public Opinion. (Miss) LILLIE FRAZIER, Superintendent of Nurses, Philadelphia School for Nurses. 2210 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia. Pensions for Teachers. There can hardly be two opinions as to the claim which the teacher Jlas uboh en system t may adopted, w r it be official private. Mr. Carnegie's adequate. These an anly it te. $0 intel- gin A 5 : minds and forming the characters young. In contrast to this, the honor ac- to the i carries both suggestions and warning.—Csniury. | Trades that Banish Disease. the world becomes of even large | view from which the daily intercourse of : 20ce. but is fan-shaped between the waves r mo- | Of the temples. ment; the effect that our attitude toward | _ The evening variety is the same, with such behavior may have upon immigrani in their relation to our political standards. is |like a turban. addition of a greatsmooth twist posed Almost invariably this At the gate of the new world what is: great, smooth twist is a false switch, be- the first lesson the immigrants learn? it the fundamental one of respect for larger rights of others, of which we boast? Is cause few women have the enormous the | head of hair that would permit its being taken from the chi and thus tur- gnon Is it not rather one of disrespect for the | baned round the top of the head. The minor pe Ni their respec of its bloom? This being the y can we expect them to discriminate in minor and major rights? The societies that are bravely and de- votedly at work among the immigrant class, in their endeavor to bring it into consonance with the best American stand- ards, may well consider the value to ts of courtesy and politeness? | rest of the evening coiffure remains the notions of equality very soon | Same; the demeanor and speech | case, how bang remains fan-shaped be- tween the waves and the temples. This heavy, smooth, twisted turban is | making as great a furore almost as the popularity. bang itself. In reality, it replaces the out of style as “common.” The bang itself became “common” years ago. It is now on a new high wave of But the heavy, smooth twist replacing the Greek ribbon will never be- their work of beginning with the teach- | come “common.” ing, or the conserving, of simply good manners. An Italian from the jcata | The advance showing of fabrics for may know little—and may be qualified to | early spring is exceedingly attractive. learn little more—of the American sys- | Worsteds prevail although woolen serges tem of government, but he knows in- stinctively the part that manners play in life, and usually on arriving affords a bet- ter example of respect for others than his American neighbor. To establish re- spectful intercourse among all—respect toward the humble as well as from the humble—is to take the first important step toward making the immigrant a val- uable American citizen.—Century. The Tax on Teachers. From Lillian C. Flint's “Pensions for Women Teachers” in the Midwinter Century. New York, St. Louis, Buffalo, Syracuse, Providence, bany, Detroit, St. Paul, Elmira Utica ask teachers to contribute 1 per cent. of their salary. Cleveland and Cincinnati require them to pay $20 a year; Rochester takes 2 per cent. of the salary; Harrisburg, 2 per cent. for ten years or less, and 3 per cent. for all the years after. Chicago aaks $5 for the first five years, $10 dollars for the next ten years, $15 for fifteen years, and $30 for ail the time thereafter. A pen- sion law is operated in every school dis- trict in New Jersey, where 2 per cent. of their salary is asked for the first ten years, 2 1-2 from ten to fifteen, and 3 for all the years after. California asks $12 a year, Baltimore 1 per cent. of the salary for the first ten years, 1 1-2 for the second ten years, and 3 per cent. for all time after. Columbus asks $1 a month, Indianapolis asks 1 per cent. of the salary of a teacher who has taught less than fifteen years, hut not to exceed $10 a year, and 2 per cent, for all teachers who have taught more than this, but not to exceed $20 annum. Min- neapolis asks $5 for first five years. $20 for the second five years, and $25 for the remainder of the years taught. Phila- delphia asks 1 per cent. of those who have been in service for ten years or less, y 2 per cent. for more than this, but the contribution in any one year is not to ex- ceed $50. When Hats Became the Fashion. As a general custom, the habit of wear- ing hats is only about five centuries old. Before then were practically after its recapture pn He iti Rouen, lish by the French, its inhabitants had never seen a hat. greatly : sidered entirely too frivolous and too evi- dent a ay of vanity for that sober after the com- all priests and religious persons were expressly forbidden to appear in public in anything “chaperons made of black cloth with de- cent coronets.” knock-out blow red for the jaw, the temple or the jugular vein. Stomach i 7 g338 Ti ai g 2 E 38 ] TF il Z I il; I : £ g i 3 £3 i isi ] "3ds *f 1 : HS ii 3 i i 7:45 il 584 ts | z ; un- | this, The multitude was | the cheese is cooking are well represented. The new suitings are mainly of a loose weave. as wt Ty tigations of colorings, a inty of sm Shocks, narrow stripes and snowflake ef- ects. Homespuns and Ropsacling, though rather heavy looking, are really light in weight. latter shed dust easily, and it is predicted that they will find great favor for spring and early summer wear. One of the most pleasing changes of the year isthe revival of the Marie Stuart bonnet, either sharp or round pointed, which is so becoming to the majority of women, and from which draperies hang is from Ho her Rat fori. or the first thr * months of the period of Meuriing this bonnet is mad entirely of crepe wi a black crepe tice ruching; thereafter a white crepe raching may substituted, and the bonnet may be bordered, in addi- tion, with unpolished jet beads or cab- ochons. Also, the heavy crepe veil worn during the earlier period 1:ay give place to another of silk voile or veiling cash- mere. The little face veil of ribbon- bordered net may also be used at this period.—Harper's Bazar. Chocolate Nut Sticks.—First mix care- fully together one cupful of fine granulated sugar, one-fourth of a cupful of melted butter, one unbeaten egg, two squares un- sweetened chocolate (melted), three- fourths of a ul of vanilla, one- half of a cupful of flour and one-half cupful of English-walnut meats cut in pieces. Line a seven-nch square pan with paraffin and mixture evenly in pan. in a slow oven. As soon as removed from oven turn from pan and remove ; then cut cake in gripe, using a or knife. If these leaving over the blaze for some minutes afterward. on toasted water biscuits. : Scall pickin of the 7 i £ i i gad i ; I i = : 8 ! et 3 RI
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers