The Ladies' Magazine

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2354, 21 November 1908, Page 1 (Supplement)

The Ladies' Magazine

HER LIFE'S CRISIS.

The girl gave a pitiful sob as the train curved away from the station, showing through the car windows the rugged slope of Hog .Hack, with the few isolated cabins in their little clearings among the pines. High up towards the ridge, and above nil the other cabins, a tiny wreath of blue smoke curled over the trees and lost itself ‘in the clouds. That was from Mark's chimney, and lie was cooking his dinner. Then the girl’s shoulders straightened suddenly and her gaze left the window. The woman in the next chair had drawn her skirts a little closer, when the ligure slipped past and dropped into the seat, but as the girl turned and slie smw the sweet, wistful face in the depths of the big sunbonnet, her lingers relaxed and the folds of her skirt fell hack into its former graceful curves. At that moment the conductor entered.

He came straight to the girl, for she was the only passenger who had taken the train from the mountain station. As he stopped beside her chair she held out a handful-of small coins- Then the woman noticed that the eyes in the sunbonnet were large and beautiful, ancl that the long lashes were wet with the tears that wore being resolutely held back.

“Where to?” ask the conductor; then, without waiting for a reply, as Ids eyes took in the coarsely clad figure : Haven’t you made a mistake, my girl? This is a parlor car.”

“I reckon hit’s a!I right, answered the girl listlessly; “the man outside said for me to get in quick. Here’s yo’ money.” “Where do you wish to go?”

‘ ‘Any whar the train stops; hit don’t matter ’bout no particler place, so long’s thar’s houses and people and a ehancet to get work. You all don’t need to bother ’bout no extra stoppin’ on ray ’count.” “Well,” doubtfully, “this money will take you as far as .Ridgeboro, thirty miles. That is considerable of a piece. But suppose we go into the next car. You h ive evidently made a. mistake. This ear is extra. And, anyway, the chair you are in has already been taken. ’

“Mv brother is enjoying his cigar and will not be hack for half an hour or so,” spoke tip the woman suddenly. “Let the girl have the chair, conductor. I am glad to have her occupy it.”

The conductor looked from her to tlie girl -undecidedly, then slipped t-he coins into his pocket and walked away. The girl turned to her neighbor.

“How’s he mean extra?” she inquired. “I never ast no price an’ I give him my money.” “Perhaps he thought you might not want to give any more than was necessary,” tho woman suggested. “Passengers have to pay extra for using the chairs in this car.” “0-oh!” The girl half rose. “Don’t yo’ reckon he took hit out o' my 90 cents?” “No. I don’t think lie did. But it doesn’t matter. The chair is mine.” The girl was standing now. “I don’t want nobody to give—” she began, when the woman reached out mud touched her on the arm.

“Sit down, my dear,” she smiled, pleasantly; “you arc my guest, you know. If I should go up t<> your homo on the mountain, wouldn’t you let- mo have a chair to sit on?’

“Of co’se, but —” “That is all I am doing now. The chair is temporarily mine, and it is unoccupied. I um glad to have you make use of it.”

Tlie girl remained standing for a few seconds, then sank doubtfully upon the chair and soon after turned to the window. A rugged pine •wooded slope was sweeping by and on it were small clearings and cabins, and blue smoke losing itself in the clouds; but it was not her slope and cabins and smoke, and presently her gaze came back mistily into the car. The woman was gazing out at the slope also, for it was wild and good to look upon. Then in the reflection on the window glass she suw the girl’s hand go to the bosom of her dress, and draw out a small tintype such as wore made by cheap, wandering photographers. The woman at first saw without observing; then realizing what she was doing, she suddenly turned tier chair so as to shut out the reflection, but not before she saw the tintype raised passionately to the girl’s lips, it was only when she heard a low sob, instantly checked, that she swung her chair back again/ sharply.

“My dear,” she said —and there was an odd little catch in her voice—“have you quarrelled?” The girl started, her eyes opening wide. “Y-yes,” she hesitated. “But howhl ye know?” “Oil, women have a way of divining such things perhaps. Is he'iiice ?” “Nice? Herk nice?” The girl drew a long, ecstatic breath, which ended in a sob. “He's the best man on the Avhole mountain, the strongest an’ best-lookin’ an’ best-workin’.”

“And you—quarrelled?” There was iif low retrospective note of sad-

nessjn the .woman’s voice, which she did not appear to realize horsed. “Quarrelled,” she—repeated. “‘Was Hcrk to blame —altogether ?” “X-no, not all,” confessed the gh;l, frankly. “I—l started it. But He rid s a strong man an’ ought to give in.” “Men arc sometimes alien their hearts are breaking. It is the woman who should give in, especially if she’s a little in the wrong. Love means so much more to her, and —and’ it is so easy for one’s life to be ruined. You must go back and make it ui) with Herk, dear.” “i can’t,” shortly.

“Would you like to go through all your life without seeing or hearing from him, just living for yourself?” “But 1 couldn’t,” with sudden alarm in her voice. “Herk’s plumb sure to come an’ look for me urter a while.” She half rose as the train began to slacken speed, her face flushing. “Hit’s ißrant’s Bridge,” she explained, “seven miles from our place, an’ whar I aimed my 90 cents selling cal mins roots. Hcrk bought mv ring here, too. Oh, yes, lies plumb sure to come for me.” v “Perhaps,” the strained lips were forcing themselves to say; “but don’t wreck your life on such a chance, my dear. That’s right,” as the girl rose with sudden resolution in her face, “go back and explain to him. If he is a good man —as 1 tliink he is—he will understand and meet you half way. And you must allow me to advance you the fare back—you can repay mo some time—you know. I am glad for you, dear. I once knew a quarrel like this, and there was no making up. The man- went across the sea and never came back. He never will come—”

She stopped abruptly, her lipos parted. her eyes wide. Her brother was approaching from the other end of the car, and behind him, crowding by him, was a tall, eager man whose face was glowing, whose arms were outstretched toward her. As in a dream she felt the girl grasp her hand and kiss it, and heard a broken, joyful? “-Good-by. X'o’ni, I can’t take yo’ money. Hit’s only seven miles, an’ I can walk hit easy. Goodbj. Hit's the fust time I ever was in a train, an' I won’t never forgit- ye.” Then the girl A\as gone; and then — the man was beside her.

<liluted cold air, have found them-, /selves able, almost immediately, even io the rigorous climate of ail Eastern winter in the United States,'to live out of doors during the day and to sleep at night in an unheated hut with one side open, verandah-wise, to the weather. And the result has been not death by cold nor yet a lingering decline,, but health and resistance to disease through the physiological stimulation of the vital functions b;, judicious exposure. Tlie sole conditioiimliave been an abundance of simple food and bodily warmth through adequate woollen c.othing. FOULED AIR THE HEAL POISON.

The change of attitude on the part of physicians has of necessity affected the attitude, of the laity. The generation which shuddered when it fell a cold draught, which dreaded the imaginary poison of the night wind, which entombed itself in closely shut rooms, regardless of the actual active poison of its own breath, .is, fortunately, passing away,' and now, instead" of the belief that only tlie strongest can stand fresh air, is the knowledge that the weakest cannot live without- it. This change of attitude brings us into sympathy with that rugged ‘Western plainsman who, when on a visit to the East, slung his hammock at night in the open. When remonstrated with on the ground that his own father had previously slept in the very room now offered to him, lie answered with a smile, “All, but my father was a strong mail!” • PURE AIR ALL IN ALL FOR BABIES. If the reconstructive value of fresh air in weakened and diseased bodies is so great, its constructive effect upon the developing constitution of the child during the period of most rapid growth can hardly be over-esti-mated. By means of this stimulation alone is each coll enabled to reaeli, its maximum of effectiveness, ‘and thus to contribute its full share in the physiological co-operative economy of the human body. The building processes involved in the structural development of tlie child require vigor of cell-action. The extreme failure of these processes is patently manifested fit delayed teething, -retarded development of the strength required for walking, and the onset of malnutr.itional troubles, such as rickets 'and scurvy. The lesser degrees of failure are habitually overlooked in almost every family and accepted as “natural” weakness. 'To prevent such failure, or to meet it if prevention is already impossible, a regime similar to that adopted in the treatment of consumption should be judiciously instituted. If the one essential of bodily warmth is judiciously ensured the timid mother may rest assured of the folly of her fears. Her poisoned and- suffocated hot-house plant of a child will blossom into rugged vigor under the life-giv-ing stimulus of pure air. After a three hours’’ -sleep in an outside window box in zero weather, a six months’ baby properly protected will conic in with glowing cheeks and a bodv radiating warmth. \V BABY IN A BLIZZARD.

I know th it to many mothers this will seem incredible. I remember well the horror of one mother, who, on learning that a six months’ baby was asleep out-of-doors one winter day, exclaimed, “A baby out in a blizzard!” 'When the baby came in she- rushed, to feel its rosy cheeks, its ears, anti nose. She could hardly believe her own senses when she found them warm. Her own two little boys were jealously guarded from every breath of cold air. In response to a remark about the baby’s marked freedom from nose and throat troubles, she admitted that her children, on the contrary, were almost never free from colds. FRESH AIR REST FOR ALL.

The idea that it is a safe procedure only with constitutionally strong children, who survive because of their abnormal strength, is a most pathetic perversion of ,cause and effect, and has gained what semblance of truth it has only through the common criminal neglect adequately to clothe children in cold weather. l'ho shivering little mite in the, fine raiment which sacrifices warmth to daintiness, is predestined to physical depression, and, of course, cannot be subjected to stimulating conditions, but the vigorous little human animal whose blood runs warmly in its wellprotected body will tingle with the physical exhilaration from exposure to crisn life-giving air. BEST tonic; and best SEDATIVE.

Moreover, the coolness of fresh air is not only a tonic for the physical but is a most valuable sedative for the nervous system of the growing child. Where everyone realises the feverish restlessness consequent upon excessive heat, it seems strange that so many ignore the soothing influence of cold. I have seen a child refuse to sleci> in a room with a temperature of 6ode*g. Fahr A tossing to and fro upon, his bed, and I have seen the same child when taken up and put into an ofttsido ventilated windowbox, the aiynings of which were thrashed by driving sleet, fall immediately into a restful sleep, which lasted for three hours.

Since sleep is as necessary for the calm, strong developing of the nervous system as food is for that of the physical, the fresh air which favors, and in many cases.alone makes it possible, is a vital factor in development which should be used to the fullest extent.

KARITANE BABY HOSPITAL. The views of Dr Fitz are entirely borne out by the Society’s experience in connection with the Karatano Baby Hospital, near Dunedin, where delicate babies live in the pure, fresh air day land night, winter and siiWarner. The bedroom windows are left wide open, and, provided the cots are kept out of tlie direct line of draught between window arid chimney, besides being protected) from driving wind by a screen when needed, no colds are caught.