THE SKELETON IN THE CUPBOARD.

Evening Star, Issue 12027, 27 October 1903, Page 8

THE SKELETON IN THE CUPBOARD.

[Copyright.]

Each one of us, if we are to believe Thackeray, who aiso tells us that we are one. aud all snoos to the backbone, has a private skeleton ot some kind hiddeu in the faimlv cupboard trorn the eyes of over-curious neighbors. They would make a curious array, tbesn family skeletons, set in goodlv order "to point a moral and adorn a tale"": grave and gay, pathos and villainy, carking fear, lifelong remorse; torn hearts staunching' their bleeding in the conventional smile of society, disgrace and shame bidden beneath a. cheerful and careless exterior. They peep in divers shapes from unsearched corners of ootta"e and mansion; they lurk at wavsido inns behind uneasy travellers: at home, abroad, alone, or in a crowd, the guilty conscience trembles incessantly before the, terrifying presence of an unforgoilcn Past,

Some, are content to rest quiet in the dust and cobwebs to which their owner has eonsigned them; others, persistent to the end. defy all his efforts to suppress them, and emerge triumphant at the last, to point out. the unhappy wretch to the obloquy and scorn of his fellow-men.

Comfort, however! There arc skeletons and skeletons, just as there arc snohs and snobs; they range from the clue to a guilty secret, tho mouldering bones of a murdered man, down to the innocent devices of an elderly spinster to repair hy artific.- the ravages of age. " One half the world does not know how the other half lives." What a revelation it would be to us could we but be. allowed to sate our curiosity by peeping into the secret chambers of our most, ordinary neighbors' lives.

It would pain and grieve us. doubtless, io a far greater extent if, to reverse the pc-et's prayer, some power were to give others the " giftie "to see ire as we see ourselves. Bnh few, I think, would willingly undergo the ordeal: fewer stilt would come oat of it with the same boundless self-conceit and arrogance with which they have bluffed tliehneighbors into having a good opinion of them. Bet us be thankful for the ohtnscness of our fellow-men, which prevents them from finding and trampling on our most sensitive corns. There is a certain class of person always on the look-out for his neighbor's secret sorrows. If his fmd be correct, well and good; if his prying search out a roanvs nest, it Is all one to the busybody: the patched up tale goes the round of mutual friends, to ihe detriment and loss of character of the unconscious hero.

Some victims of a family skeleton, of course, have long outgrown the idea of keeping it a secret, and wear it openly on their sleeve, with no small satisfaction. This is the case with tho coat.s-of-arms *aud mottoes of many a riiled family, whose original meaning was a cause of blushes and confusion. Time, however, has wiped away their stain.

A very curious kind of family skeleton in a cupboard is that which exists at. Glamis Castle, which lately baffled the combined effons of a. whole Psychological Society to explain it, la a room in the Castle, which is kept locked, awful 3hriek3 and groans are beard from tune to time, and a horrible face is reported to have been Keen at the window. The explanafcioa to this extraordinary-apparition is known only to the representative of the title, the heir, and the steward of the Castle, who have handed it down inviolate for many generations. Possibly the family rather value this ghostly perquisite, which makes the old mansion a show place and the. report, ot tourists from all quarters. But ths majority of us prefer to keep our family secrets to ourselves, and it is really surprising to think what a talent the averages Briton has for keeping secrets, women in particular, which is contrary to all popular tradition. What numbers of good women there are living in our midr-t, toiling, scrubbing, and sewing, and adorning every hi?h station in tho land, on whose heads, beneath torn shawl or diamond tiara-, is laid an irksome load of burdensome secrets.

How can we tell that Mrs Brown, the thin, quiet-looking little woman cleaning her cottage doorstep after tho children have gone < 0 school, is engaged in a ceaseless struggle with poverty against enormous odds. Nobody sees Brown when ho staggers home late at night. Mrs Brown wouldn't, tell for worlds that he beatß her and knocks her about in bis drunken rape. She even tries to teach her children to honor tho father that abuses her. But the children can guess. They crept downstairs to peep when the row was going on, and each curries the family shame locked in his little bosom. Nobody guesses, as Brown goes out to his work in the City, tidy and breakfasted, that be is anything bnt the most exemplary of parents. Mrs Brown woud bo angry and grieved if anyone commiserated with her lot, or knew how very hard she works to make both ends meet, out of the pittance the drunkard spares her from his nightly orgies.

But let us leave tho Browns, who aro very uninteresting and humble people, to look at the inner life of the verv high-class family of Simpkins-Joncs, in the fashionable square not far awav.

Mrs Brown has probably sighed many and many a. time to see Mrs Simpkins-Joncs, with her handsome husband, Toll by in her stylish carriage, wrapped in costly furs to keep out tho cold. She cannot know that PimptirTEJones has found out his mistake, and is thoroughly tired of his fadec wife. Likr. Johnny Sands, " he found that he was tired of life, and she was tired of him," so he tries to mend matters by spending all bis spare time at his club. His brow is furrowed with a life of disappointment, and the worries of an overdrawn banking account. Tie only tie that remains to them in their Ixrznrisns home is the little heir, whom the young Browns envy daily as he canters by on hiß pony. But little Simpkins-Jones's voting head often aches with the squabbles of Ms parents, who choose to make kim a bone of contention. The child often sobs himself to sleep unkissed, on his lonely pillow, long after the little Browns have been tucked cosily into their rosy slumlwrn. Mies Wigton, whom we often pee steering her.new motor in the Park, seems to tho average girl.a to/WjaiviedLaad

admired and imitated at a distance. Is she not rich, an only daughter, good-looking, well-dressed, and engaged to an earl? But what if Miss Wigton's fiance has taken her as an alternative to poverty and the girl lie loves? What if the noble earl is dissolute *elfish, and cold? What if the girl has W>n pushed by her family into a distasteful ami loveless match? In this case Miss Wirton in all her glory, is more to bo pitied than the poorest shop girl -who docs-her bidding behind the counter.

The dapper society man, tripping on his rounds or gaiety and foolish pleasure, doesn't tell his comrades that he lives in perpetual dread of the stroke of tho hereditary madness ? a L.^. SUre io &U oa the- generation to which he belongs. Ho is making the best of things poor fellow, and putting a/feood face on things nil tho fated moment arrives. Dora, whose father is a country parson, blames herself for envying Clara, who makes a sensation wherever she goes, while quiet, Dora passes unnoticted. Yerv likely Clara would give all her silk attire to be able to prll off tho false-coils from her hair, wash the cosmetics from her face, and sleep tie innocent sleep of simple Dora. But she can't! In' a state of nature, unaided by her maid, Clara, tho fair and fashionable, would stand avowed an ugly, elderly spinster. Dora cannot help sighing a LHile when her neighbor, JJiss Muff-et. pas-ses oror her head, cad wishing she shared her knack of dressing well on a small allowance. The !Miss Muffets aro quite poor, she knows, yet. they arc always dressed up to the knocker, and aro constantly talking of dances, dinner parties, laneheoni, and plays. They don't talk about their untidy, comfortless home, their squalid privacy. Their pntty debts and unpaid dressmaker's biDs. Xor do they tell the littlo humiliating tasks they do for their wealthy patrons, the snubs that- accompany 1-hc invitations, the jostling they give and take or their way into "' society." One of these days, it, is rumored. 3li>s Muffct will make a grand match. Will she, dear trader, or will in. perhaps, ba quiet Dora? We leave you to judge.