Newspaper Page Text
TITE ATLANTA GEORGIAN AND NEWS.
MONDAY, OCTOBER 14. 1907.
KENNETT HARRIS
On the Bachelor Who Tells a Group of Mar
ried Men the Best Way to Manage a Wife.
Copyright, 1907, by Aid crtcan-Journal-Examiner.
Back In one corner of the eraokeri and emoke your pipe, that', natural
v,as a small man with a clerical Hide enough. She needs a little fun once In
hllo. Oct right Into your good
clothes and take her. You might lust
n-hlsker, who sucked hla cigar with
pursed llpe and Indrawn cheeks, and
removed It to let the emoke out. Oc
casionally he coughed and blinked his
eyee, but he listened with Interest that
nothing could distract to the views
on the management of women an
nounced by the ruddy faced man with
the meerschaum pipe who occupied the
one chair eo fully that It* wicker sides
creaked every time he drew his breath.
"You’ve got to humor them," said
the stout man In the chair, "that's all
there is to It. Just humor ’em and
you’ll get along all right with any of
’em.”
“You can humor them a little too
much, though," said the small man. "1
don’t know that It always goes.”
"Shucks!” said the stout man. with
a large smile. "You can't do anything
with ’em by driving ’em. When you
do that they get ugly. Humor ’em.
You're a man, ain't you? Well, then,
what’s the use of getting up on your
hind leg* and raising a disturbance
every time she says anything you don't
like or does anything that doesn’t suit
you? No use at all. It doesn’t do any
good. Just wink the other eye. Mako
allowances. Ain't I right?"
"That’s right,” agreed the man with
the crush hat In the window seat
"Might n*. well,"
"Certainly," sold the stout man.
"Suppose she does want a new hat,”
he continued. "What dlllerence does
It make? Let her have It and have
peace anil quirt. Peace and quiet Is a
whole lot better than the money In the
bank. Tell her It's becoming to her
and cheap at double the price. That'H
the way to manage ’em. If she wants
a thing done one way and you want jt
tone the other, tell her she'B the doc
tor. You enn afford to do that. It
won't hurt you. and It makes It pleas
anter all around. Don't it? Of course.
It does.”
The small man with the neat side
whiskers threw the remaining two-
ihlrds of his cigar away and shudder
'd slightly; ‘Suppose a man has a
icoldlng wife," he suggested.
"Let her acold," advised the stout
nan. "She might us well say what she
wants to say and relieve her mind. It
Iocs her good. It's better than letting
Her bottle It up. You don’t have to
1sten. do you? Just sit still and act
is If you were taking It all In; that's
.. .. I- ... .1.. (ti.nl t n Ilf »HI fit
ill you have to do, Don’t talk back,
The more yon talk back the more you'll
tot of It. Own up that she's right when
ihe gets through, unci that will tickle
jer to riertth. Kind of humor her."
"That’s ull very well," said the small
man, dlssentlngly.
“You show mo a better way, said
Ihe authority. "You don't expect a
woman to act like a man, to begin with,
She's .got her own little peculiarities,
jf course, hut you dert't make any
thing by trying to rnrcect 'em with a
-lub. If she wants to go out to the
•.heater whon you Wont to stay home
well as stick to the easy chair and
have trouble. .Maybe the show won’t
be so rotten, after all. You can't never
tell. There's been one or two In the
lust ten year* that were pretty darned
good.
“Here's another thing,” said the stout
man. waving his pipe stem argumenta
tively. “A woman sees things differ
ently to what a man does. I don't
think myself that It’s any particular
hbrm to throw a burned match on the
lloor once In a while or to use a lace
tidy for a foot rest, but nine women
out of ten don't like it. Well, what are
you going to do when that’s the situ
ation? Why, it's the simplest thing In
the world. Put your match In
the ash receiver, or If you have to get
up to find one. sneak It Into the pocket
of your smoking Jacket; keep your
feet on the rug, where they belong. If
you're a married man and your wife
objects to your going out to lodge, hu
mor her and don't go. It's easy enough
to get along with a woman."
Tile man In the window seat laughed,
hut the small person In the corner
looked more serious than ever. "It's
your Idea to let a woman have her way
in everything?" he said.
“Why not?" replied the stout man.
“Bheil take It, anyway.”
“I donlt agree with you.” sold the
small person, wltji much decision In
his tone. “A woman ought to consult
her husband's wishes and defer to
them. I don't believe In allowing them
too much freedom. 1 don't mean by
that that she should be treated with
harshness or anything of that sort.
It's u man’s place to protect her and to
provide for her and to be kind to her,
but too much Indulgence of her whims
Is not conducive to a happy married
life. She belongs to the wenker sex,
and a man Is a man. A woman thinks
more of him if he maintains his digni
ty as a man. He has got to put his
foot down when she goes too far. Yes,
sir!” He slapped his sharp knee em
phatically and then got up with a start.
"Well, this Is my station. Good-day,
gentlemen."
"My, he's fierce. Isn't he?” com
mented the man In the window seat as
the small passenger disappeared.
The stout man made no reply, but
let down the window, and the two
looked out. They saw the small per
son with the clerical aide whiskers
drop his suit case on the platform to
greet a little woman with nn amiable
face, who hurried to him and embraced
him quite affectionately. The stout
man looked disappointed. "I'd give
ten dollnrs to know whether that was
his wife, and I'd bet ten dollars It
Isn't," he said, bh he squeezed ponder
ously back Into his chair. "That fel
low's wife weighs close on to two hun
dred, and when she yells, 'Hey, you!'
he comes a trotting. Want to bet?”
"Are you married?" asked the man
with the crush hnt.
••Me?" said the stout man. "Great
Hcott! Do I look like It?”'
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Mirandy on Man and the Dress Question
By DOROTHY DIX
F DERE Is one thing dat riles
;ef-e F DERE Is one thing uni mo
It me mo’ dan imudder.” obzorv-
l—t r( ) Mirandy. wrathfully, hit Is
less heah Smart Alrc meo whut s nj-
ong? an’ b trytn l"o STUSW* to
chert bit comes to does de> }* JJjR
lachally lackin’ In gumptkim l
lover seed no man ylt, le««on he was
i tailor, dat known! de, difference be>-
wlxt a godet plait an a pollonalse,
,r dat could hook a dress up de £tcK
vidout wiltin' his collar, an bustln
(In finger nails. Bn' usln langwhlge
lat no Christian lady ought to hear
nentloned In her presence.
-An’ dat's all right. I ain't a-quar-
f»lln* 'bout dat, for de less a man knows
. tbout a woman'll buaineaB de better off
he j», an* I nhorely 1* sort of suspicious
if a man dat's too handy fastenin’ up
t longery waist wld twenty-seven llt-
le buttons an’ a few blind loops, but
vhut aggrlfrets me !« for men to set
ip in dere own clothes—dat looks lak
i set of stovepipe Jlntu riveted toged-
ler at de ends—an’ try to dictate to
vomen 'bout what dey shall wear.
"Hit shorely does raise my dander.
Sow, last' night me an' Ike was a-set-
Jn’ round de kitchen stove. Jest ns
•a’m an’ peaceable as a basket of kit
ten*, me a-patchln' little Teddy Roos-
erfelt’a britches, an' Ike a-perusln’ de
ivenln’ paper, when all to oncet he
ting out:
"'Olt ready to move, Mirandy. for I
on gwlne to hike out to de promised
and of Missoury/
. "'Why for?’ I inquires.
"'Becase,' says he, *a man out dere
s gwlne to Introjuce Into de legisla
te a bill dat will make hit unlawful
tor any woman, married or single, to
>uy, or have give to her, or git In any
vay, mo’ dan two hats a year; an* fur-
lemo* hit’s a felony, an’ arson, an’
ireach of de peace, for elder one of dem
lats to cost mo’ dan $1.98. Bless Gord.’
ie goes on, a-rollin' up his eyes to de
jellin', 'dat I is done live to see de day
lat a man l« ri* up dat Is got de cour-
ige to grapple wld de bonnet evil, an'
sy to squelch hit onder his heel.’
"'You think dat bill Is gwlne
through ?* says I, *an* is gwine to be-
?ome a law?’
"'Dat hit is,* 'spons he. ’Ev’y man
, dat has suffered from havin’ to pay for
llower bunnlts, an’ chicken fedder
plumes—an’ %vhar Is de home dat de
trail of de millinery bill has not blight
ed?—will vote for dnt unanimous.’
**’My lan'U ’sclttltns I; ’but ef dat’s
so, den Missoury Is gwine to persent a
gran’ openin’ for de sale of dls heah
growerlno hulr tonic.’
’“How’s dnt?’ inquires Ike.
" 'Becase/ snya I, ’ev’y man dat votes
for hit in gwlneyto bo snatched bald
Mlded de mlnntt he gits homo an’
meets hts wife an’ daughters. We worn,
cn is po*. meek, humble, downtrodden
ereeters d&t lets you men Vote for us,
an* run our religion for us, an' collect
our wages, but dere's one sacred liber
ty dnt we’ll fight to de death for, an’
dat Is de right to dress lak \vc pleases,
an* buy ns many hats ns we can get
credited for, an* de man dat trompies
on dat right does so at his peril.’
•• Vo*o der«* wsrn’t nothin’ puanonnl In
iny remark*,' ’spoils Ike. aedn’ dat I wa*
toyin’ sorter keerless lak wld do stove lift
er.
•‘•Hull, derc’d better not been,' 'spoil* I,
for I was nil hot up. Td de* lak to see do
mail dnt would dictate to me 'bout do num
ber of fodders dat 1 had on my boutilf.
n-aulndiitn' Into Id* paper, nn’ turnl
murder* to kinder cheer btssetf up, an' I
‘spelt* dnt I wilt, seeln’ ns how I I* a aide-
dnt dey knows how women ought t<
l>ere’* Him Hawkins, he’s one of dene
earnest young men wld n Adam's apple dat
look* hk he done swallowed a punk In
lilt lodged In hi* throat, an’ a call to
ev’ybody right In de world. Min, he comes
to see Mn’y Jane, wind's mighty peart an’
* IS got de h|gge*t pompadour ou
I hear* nlui prognosticatin’
sra o?k. an’ I hear* nlui progi
to her about de foollsn way dat she Is
dreused.
” 'Hit suttlnly does show dnt women Is de
weaker vessel, wys he to Mn’y Jane, *de
way dnt dey dre*m>*. book at ilea Jay bird*
heeled kIum-h of yourn dnt throws yo* body
out of Jlnt, an' Is liable to break yo* neck
at any mtniitt, to *ay nothin* of de corn
crop dey l* a rnUIn’. Why don’t yon git
some wear to 'em? An’ took at do way you
is got yo' waist pinched In. I liet dat yo*
lung* would curl up nu’ die wld surprise
ef dey wn* to git one good long breath.
Ait’ dat ain’t de wast of hit. Here you I*
a-tryln’ to ketch nneiitubuy by weeriu* dein
nee-wore shlrtwaiMts lustld of some good
red tl.inucl underwear. I don’t see why
women ain’t got enough sense to dress
sensible.*
*• 'Do reason.' say* Ma'r Jane. 'I* license
you wen won’t let u*. We has to risk our
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iHMtNIHMUIMIMIHHUHMI
The History of a Mother
#•••••••••••••••••••••<
It wa* the name that Int nttracted my
attention—Rlrthe NlcoMlwn. It sounded so
Danish,
Once more I looked at the latter. Yw.
the atamp waa Danish. But who could
*he he? Mrs. Blrthe Ntcolatsen. I thought
I knew nil ray countrymen In this town,
where they were so few, but I did not
know her. Probably #he hud Just arrived.
1 looked in the directory. Yes. there It
was; the name and atreet and bouae num
ber. )
In the cveulng, I went to look for her. I
could not help It.
I found abe lived In one of the many
tenement houses, and wltji some difficulty
I located her door and knocked. A voice,
quite fetrotig and sonorous Baked ms to
come lu. ami 1 opened the door.
It waa a poor little room 1 entered. A
•tuvo, \*itU u cheviiui enough fire, a couple
of chub*, a table and a narrow Iron bed
were nil the furniture. In n corner Wat n
pile of wood, and a clothes line, with some
washing, we* stretched acrose the room.
(lu the bed nn old woman wna sitting.
She stood up, surprised, na I entered.
Uvea, an’ .auffer tortures, wenrln’ uncomfort
able clothe* to plenxe you an’ keep from be
in' on de ole tnnlds’ bench.’
■" ‘Fur from hit,* ’epona Him. Td admire
to see a woman dressed accordin' to a mao’s
fttse shoe*.
TVLm,
■lute 81m.
don’t you 'seort her to d#
" •Dnt splay-footed nigger
•Not me.'
" 'An’,' goes on Mn'y Jane, ‘she wears de
rational dress, an* n health waist, why
don’t you ax her to go wld you to de
ebu’eh supper Inatld of me?’
•• Td a* won me seen out wld my ma’e
fedder bed,’ says 81m.
’“An' Malloy Hue don't waste no money
ott bats,' peruses Mn'y Jane. ‘She's been
a-wenrln* de same oue for fo’ winters.’
"’Hit looks lak hit,' saya 81m. 'An' as
I ain't in de buslucss of totin' roun' skeer*
crows I p
you’d onfj
angel.'
'Maybe so,* 'spons Mn’y Jane, 'but 1
nJu’t gwlne ter be fool enough to risk bit,
fer I done observe dat when a woman
dresses Ink a man's Ideal he's mighty skit
tish ’bout bein' seen out In public wld her,
but ae> long as she looks Ink n fashion
E late he sorrows over her folly, an* totes
er roun’ to places whar folks can eee
what a fine-dressed gal he's got on de
string.'
”Yn*sum, dot's 'bout de slxo of hit. in’
dat’* de reasou dot men Is flylu* In de face
of providence when dey trie* to meddle wld
whut dey don’t understan* an’ ain’t got
uo business undenitaudin' bout women's
clothe*. Ev'y now nn' den Ike see* aorae
peart little slip of a gal about seventeen
- -ri *»„ in »» i-h! dress an* he come* home
an* axes why I ain’t got taste enough to
. . . i..a «i<tt. an* he don’t know
♦ids «f. fat In a
J
olid be was so took
« so» mi m-w ou tut Hi a ue*t of green
rildum dnt be bought hit for me on de In
stallment—on* dat list mighty nigh loaded
n* in de divorce « l ourt.
"YasMum. men niu’t got
In’ law* ’hoot women's clothe*, an’
Her face showed slgna of great age, hnt
she wn* tall and straight, and If *he bad
known trial* and sorrow, she was too proud
t« show It. Her face, too, was ns proud
in it* expression nn was her oiuuiter and
way of carrying litrself erect.
"lour name Is lltrtbe Nicolai sen?" 1
ed.
Joy flitted acroi
at me long and Intently, and replied:
"Yes, that Is my name—but who may ho
be?
. Hhe spoke with the broad brogue of the
Jutlander, and I had to smile at her old-
fashioned, "Who rosy he be?’ I told her of
the letter, of my curloelty, and we wero
soon chatting llko old friends. I was sur
prised to dud she had lived In the town
tor ^enrs. and when I told her so she re-
id she
_Jd WBL„ . _______ _
with a sad smite: "When one'
do not know a person, on* may easily ex
cuse a stranger."
I understood that her remark had a hid
den meaning, and waited for her to can-
tinue, but the remained silent, eo I bad to
ask:
"Have you any relatives here, grand
mother?"
I saw her tremble as I called her grand
mother. 8be repeated the word and Said:
"Indeed I have both eons and grandson*,
but no one calls me grandmother."
. 1 “I* Pride struggling with sorrow In
her old face. She did not look up. At list
tears came. She repeated time and again,
"Grandmother—grandmother!"
Then she wiped the tears nway, but sad
ness had token the placo of pride In the old
face. ,
1 took courage and asked her some more
question*.
"Then he does not know my sons, Fred
erick and Joergen?"
"Are they farmers r*
"No: would to God they were! No; they
own the big mill. Nicholas Bros, they call
themselves/'
Suddenly I understood—Nicholas Bros.
Fred and James Nicholas—they were her
sons: rich men, the richest men In town. I
had heard they were of Danish descent, but
that they were the sons of this poor old
Jutland woman—It seemed Incredible.
At last she consented to tell me the his
tory of her life.
She had been well off at home In Jutland,
daughter of a well-to-do farmer. Then the
father died and left her the big farm, young
and Inexperienced. The mother had died
years before. Then she had married Joergen
Nlcololsen and bad borne him two sons.
Frederick and Joergen. Her husband had
been a hard man and a hard worker, but
he loved only gold, bod no love for wife or
children. She was too proud to show that
she cared and they had really never under
stood each other. But the boy*—oh, how
the bad worked, slaved and suffered for
these boys. At last they had sold the good
old farm In Jutland and bad emigrated to
America.
They had prospered, had grown rich, but
It had taken hard work. Many bard days
and nights she had had during the first
bough
Joergen, ner husband, had
of hoarding money. Then n
crushed him one day. but she
—list they had' made her sell the"farm
and with the money they bad bought the
cn they had married, and their Ameri
can wives could not bear the old pennant
woman and nt Inst the sons bad asked her
to look for another home.
Nobody should say that old Blrthe lived
on the charity of other*—big Blrthe wna
strong enough to make her own living yet—
and so she left her boys.
Now sho wn* 82, and she was not In need.
Tho boy* sent her a little once In n while,
money nml coni and food, but they never
came to see her, though longing for them
was eating her heart. Go to them? No,
never!
I saw the proud expression come back
Into her face.
If she could only get enough to read, but
Danish books were so hard to get, and now
that her health was beginning to fall she
could not very well leave the house.
Then we bane each other good night.
I went to aee James Nicholas and, casu
ally, I spoke of bis mother.
* r 8bc Is no longer strong," I ventured.
"Oh, well! what can one expect nt her
age? Bnt she Is not In need."
"Perhaps not In actual need, but—"
"Hhe Is neither hungry nor cold," be Inter
rupted.
He was right—In a way. But he who
* * Merited hla father’s charsc
nml that she was starvln
for the love of
frote her old heart.
"Now, I will tell yon something," I said,
"you ought to give your old mothera home
with you." .
lie looked nt me.
"No, you see. It Is this way: she would
not feel at home. Everything would be too
her—you understand^’
fine for h<
Yes, I
old moth<
olas' fine
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93 v/rr^AU^s'-rREET.
one Is ashamed of . one’s old mother, na
wonder one Is ashamed of one’* mother
tongue-and then one is right to feel iishsm*
Stand for Minimum.
Newberry, S. C., Oct. 14.—Thnt rhe
farmers of Newberry county are re
solved to Btand firm for a minimum
price of 15 cents per pound for their
cotton, and thus be loyal to their
friends, the National Union, and true t »
their pri/iclples, haa been made' mani
fest In an address Which has been
Issued to the members of the county
union. The election of officers of the
Newberry union resulted a» follow*:
President, W. C. Brown; vice ypiJUdcut,
S. P. Crbtwell; secretary and treas
urer, J. B. O’Neal 1 Holloway.
You can't dodge the worst 'by. sitting
down and hoping for the beat, v
has nothing to
> bnstaesa mak-
be callin’ fer Ue aruteky, udder.
dat'U
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62-64 North Broad Street