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TTEARST’S SUNDAY AMERICAN, ATLANTA, OA.. SUNDAY, MAY 25, 1012,
Terrance's
Terrible Scrape
An Echo of tne Barber'* Strike.
By Goode Knight.
C*TT r tirT t. 191
Great
[' impany
-red
K'flitl li
O N those terriDie dayB ^hen
the people ■ of l’ompcil
were given the roast that
killed them; when 40,000 in Lis
bon were Jolted Into the Atlantic
and bathed to death, and when
the continent of Atlantis, with all
Its happy people, was uphcaved
and submarined into the depths of
the ocean, bringing their death
rato up to 100 per cut in one
minute—when these great cata
clysms happened the sky was
azure, the sun was shining
through fleecy clouds, the birds
were twittering and all was hap
piness.
And so It was when our unfor
tunate hero, Terrance Hlggen-
hoihatu. sallied forth. The sun
was blazing overhead, the birds
were twittering, the fleecy clouds
moved cooling shadows about over
the greensward of the parks and
the tesselated tar-oozlng paving
blocks
Sing ye. for Terrance was about
to be married.
Lift up your voices, for Ter
rance, though poor as an editor,
was about to marry an he.resser-
ine with ninety-three millions!
What wonder lie yodled with Joy
as he sauntered torth to his bar
ber’s to be dolled up for the coro-
mony that would put hint on easy
street?
“Well!" Terrance exclaimed,
when he found his faiorite barber
shop closed.
But he went to the next one.
"Huh!" he snorted with disgust,
finding that shop also closed.
Then he wandered across the
street to another tonsorial parlor.
"Great snakes!” yelled Terrance,
lor this place was also closed as
tight as an Oil Kings purse
"The smaller shops will be
open,” he mused, as be went down
a side street
"Why, what the ," contin
ued Terrance, tor on this street
all the shops were closed
Terrance began to look pallid.
He stopped twirling his inalacca
stick and plodded stubbornly up
*ml dow u the streets in search
of an open barber shop.
The sun, like a dying monarch,
as the Fourth Header sa)B, was
It king below the horizon, gilding
the accumulation of clouds that
hovered about It like faithful sub
jects—but this Is not getting us
anywhere. Terrance is now doing
a quickstep up and down tbs
streets.
lie has ceased murmuring "Well"
nud "Huh." Long ago he began
talking sterner stufT. Now, when
ever he finds a closed barber shop
the people sn IT and think the
board of health is fumigating some
Douse with brimstone. It Is only
the remarks of Terrance.
The little birds have ceased
their twittering, the -tin lias set,
the stars are peeping out, one by
nue, am] still our hero plods.
At last, with a cry of Joy, Ter
rance finds a barber shop that is
open lie rushes in
"Quickly," lie gasps, "a shave and
hair trim; I am in a hurry; 1 am
to be married in twenty minutes!"
The barber scurries around.
Here is a big tip He lathers our
hero s countenance and has care-
f illy removed the growth from one
side when three forms enter
They say someth.ng in Italian.
The little barber listens, then
he grins, then he wipes his razor,
places It In his pocket and says to
Terrance:
"Meester w-eel oblige by go; 1
rlosa da shop."
"But you haven't finished. I'm
only half shaved I "
“Da strike a. I am order to stop.
Da commit Jnst-a get aroun' to
me. Ver' sorry "
"Do you mean to tell me, you
sawed-off son of-—er - er — Very
well!” and sobb r.g hysterically
Terrance staggered out
The committee had surrounded
him and were nonchalantly ex
a .Tuning a collect on of weapons,
including stilettos and automatic
-evolvers. which explains wuy lie
p st interest in his conversation
arm r.ed.
■ Tat she loves mo—ahe will we I
me as I am! I cannot keep her
waiting!" he told himself, and he
lurried to the home of his heiress.
"Put that maniac out. Jeems!”
ordered the lady with the ninety-
three m llions.
"Do you not Know me, Penel-
T lie besought "I am
ye-:, Terrance, your beloved, your
affianced. I should ha —"
“You should worry!' haughtily
exclaimed i'<neli ;o i !-.., e j UE .
dc Lost
She Sold Her Soul
an
Scene—Home of Young Millionaire and His Wife.
Time—Fifty Years from Now—Dinner Hour
“So iht! egg is the price of honor!"
I RENE—Half an hour early?
BASIL—I'm awfully hungry
IRENE All right; open the food safe, will
you. dear? What brings you home so early to-
day. dear?
BASIL—I'm on the Jury. We Just finished a
esse, a very sad one, too. A man w'as being
tried for killing a hen.
IRENE—And you helped sentence him—to
death?
BASIL There was nothing else to do. Don't
von understand lie killed a hen—killed It in cold
blood? A man who can do that deserves no pity.
iUhr hn* taken buttle nf water nut of food safe,
half fill* plans'*, lakes very *mall phial of m’lk
anti medicine dropper and drops n little milk
in raeli pin*.*.)
IRENE—But his family—
RASIL—Oh. you women are so sentimental!
Have you forgotten that the hen Is the fowl
who lays eggs?
IRENE Eggs. Oh! (She turns faint and
staggers slightly.)
RASH. Irene—what's the mutter?
IRENE (recovering) Nothing—not fling, dear.
I'm belter now. But wait a minute— I've a
treat for you to-night. (She lakes one cracker
from food safr, puts it on platter anti sets it
before him.)
HASH -By Jove, dear, but we are living high
- a cracker!
IRENE—And milk—
BASIL—Milk! A cracker and milk the same
duy—Isn’t that rather—
IRENE—But you're making a hundred thou
sand a year!
BASIL-—Still, there's no use squandering it.
Is there? However, I suppose we can treat our-
r■ Ives once in a while. (She doses food safe and
locks it. They begin to eat. H» serves her with
half the cracker, takes the rest himself and they
eat it with forks. He smacks his lips.) It 1b
delicious. Remember, when we first married we
couldn’t have these little luxuries. But, you
know, whenever I sit down to a meal like this
I think of the poor who can’t buy proper food.
IRENE—Yes.
BASIL—That’s why we could show no mercy
to that man to-day. You see, what made It so
terrible was—that the hen was about to be
come a—
IRENE (getting faint again)—Don't—don't,
Basil—
BASIL—Why. my dear child, what is the
matter? You must see the doctor again. I've
noticed you haven’t been yourself for some time.
You haven’t been eating well; why, look there—
you've hardly touched your diuncr!
IRENE—I’m not hungry. (She collects the
m/mbs and puls them on a plate and the plate
in the food safr.) You won't mind having these
for breakfast, will you, dear?
BASIL—No; but the doctor—
IRENE—Basil, I—I’ve seen the doctor—1
went to-day.
BASIL—What did be say? (She is silent.)
Come—-come dear, why don’t you tell me?
IRENE—I—I—oh, what s the use, Basil? It—
BASH.,—It s something serious, then?
IRENE—-Yes. (An exclamation from him.)
We we might as well face it. Basil, the doctor
says I've got to eat another egg.
BASIL—Great heavens!
IRENE (turning to him, weeping)—I can’t
help It, Basil; you—you know It isn’t my fault.
BASIL—But—won't a trip to Europe do—a
change of scene? Anything— (Irene sinks in
chair.) Why, it's only two years ago you had
an egg—a whole one. I had to mortgage this
house to get It for you. Surely you can’t need
another—so soon—
IRENE—I know It's terrible, but—I—I must
have It, Basil—
BASIL—Oh, how did you ever get this ac
cursed taste—ah—thank heaven the children all
starved to death. They might have Inherited—
IRENE—Basil! (He stops.) That’s a cruel
thing to say. I never told you how I came to
be—this way—
BASIL—No, you never told me. You married
me without letting me know you had this crav
ing for eggs—oh, how could you?
IRENE—Basil, when I was a little girl my
parents were very wealthy, and once they gave
me—an egg to taste. My brother had brought tt
from Europe. You know the effect the taste of
a egg has on one—the strange feeling of happi
ness that, once felt, can never be forgotten. I—
I couldn’t forget It. The taste of that egg has
been the memory of my waking hours, my
dream at night. Sometimes the desire for It
drives me to the point of madness. Oh! don’t
look at me like that; X know I shouldn’t have
married you without telling you of it; but—I
loved you, Basil.
BASIL—If you had loved me you would have
told me.
IRENE—Then you won’t—get It—for me?
BASIL (recoiling)—Great heavens, I can’t!
IRENE (cold and hard)—Very well, I’ve
nothing more to say. (Returns as if to go out,
pauses at door.)
BASIL—Don’t take it like this, Irene. Heav
ens knows I’d do it if I could; hut it’s out of
the question. Good night.
IRENE (looking straight front)—You’re go
ing to bed?
BASIL—Yes—I—I have a touch of indiges
tion. Good night. (He goes out.)
(She sits a moment in thought, then rises and
goes to phone. She takes off the receiver and
puts it to her ear. As she does so a knock comes
at the door. She says, ”Come in.” and Harold
enters and stands Inside doorway. She is
startled at sight of him and retreats, leaving
receiver off the hook. Harold is a good-looking
man, in uniform. He has a leather case strapped
on his left side, a revolver at his right.)
1R EN E—H a rol d—you!
HAROLD (drawing back)—Irene'.
IRENE—Why do you come to me again, after
all these years?
HAROLD—You see my uniform—I am an of
ficer of the Food Trust
IRENE—An officer—the Food Trust!
HAROLD—Yes. You ordered a slice of bread?
(She nods.) I was sent to deliver It. (He hands
her a small package, she takes tt, puts it in the
food sale. He hands her the paper.) Please
sign the receipt. (Bhe does so and hands it
back; their hands touch—both are much moved.
Then he turns as if to leave her.)
IRENE—Harold, don’t leave me like this.
You never understood—
HAROLD—I only know you broke my heart
and ruined my life when you married him—not
for love, but—for food.
IRENE—Yes—and I’ve been punished. The
food I crave he can't give me.
HAROLD—Be careful.
IRENE—What is It?
HAROLD—You mustn't toudh this case.
IRENE—Why, what does It contain?
HAROLD—Hush! (Lowers voice and comes
to her, whispering.) An egg.
IRENE—An egg! (Stops her mouth with her
han&J
HAROLD—8h! I—I shouldn’t have told you.
I’m on my way to a billionaire’s house to de
liver it. (Turns to go.)
IRENE—You said once that you would do
anything In the world If I would he yours.
HAROLD—Yes, I said that—once.
IRENE—Then I give you the chance to prove
It now.
HAROLD—You mean that you will—
IRENE—Yes, I’ll be yours on one condition.
HAROLD—Name it—name it, and I’ll— (He
starts to her, she keeps him off.)
IRENE—Wait; give me—that egg!
HAROLD—You don’t realize what you’re ask
ing. They know I left the storehouse. If I
don’t return soon they’ll search and discover the
truth. Then I’ll be a fugitive from justice—a
hunted man—dishonored and disgraced.
IRENE—And am I not worth it? (Puts her
arms around him, tempts him with her lips; he
kisses her; then, realizing what he is. he stands
with bowed head.) Now let me see the egg.
(After a rh\-ntal struggle he undoes the case,
first drawing his revolver and looking around
carefully. She falls on her knees, adoring it.)
Now—we must go—quickly. But wait; you
can’t carry it in that case. It would be recog
nized. Ha! my jewel box— (Gets it quickly,
takes out a handful of gems, throws them away
and puts the egg in the box. As she is closing
the lid Basil enters. She gives a startled cry
and moves away from the toble, leaving box on
it.) Why, Basil; I thought you’d retired—
(Basil, without speaking, moves toward table,
suddenly seizes jewel box, opens it. Irene gives
a cry. Harold draws his gun.)
BASIL (seizing the egg and holding it up)—
Shoot, and watch it fall. (Harold lowers gun.)
IRENE—Basil, how did you know?
BASIL—The phone—you left the receiver off.
An Amusing Travesty on the
Cost of Living, from the
Popular One-Act Play,
“FOOD.” Published by
Permission.
I heard everything, (holding up egg)—And this
Is the price of honor—
IRENE—Basil! Basil! What are you going
to do? Basil—Basil— Ah! (Gives a shriek at
Basil dashes the egg to the floor, on the little
rug. Sinks to her knees over it. Harold stag
gers back, convulsed with horror.)
HAROLD—Do you know what you have done?
BASIL—Yes, claimed the price. Now pay it
HAROLD—Yes, I’ll pay it; but your punish
ment is worse than mine. Through all your life
(pointing to remains of egg) you'll see that
horrible sight—that little egg lying there
crushed and mangled—wasted—wasted—and by
your hand. Thnnk heaven I haven’t got that to
face!
IRENE—Harold, where are you golug?
HAROLD—To give myself up. ( -
IRENE—But—It means—death.
HAROLD—Yes. Good-by. (He goes out.)
IRENE (turns to Basil, who is standing mo
tionless)—Basil, I—I didn’t mean to—I was
mad—the sight of It—the knowledge that it wa»
here—1n my hands—
BASIL—There can be nothing more between
you and me. I shall go to the club to-night
When I return to-morrow I don’t want to find
you here.
IRENE—You—mean?
BASIL—You have betrayed me—for an egg.
IRENE—Wait, you needn’t go I’ll go now—•
to-night.
BASIL—Very well. (Irene starts to roll up
the rug on which the egg is lying.) Irene, have
you no shame? You would take it even now,
after what has happened?
IRENE (the rug rolled up and in her arms) —
Why shouldn’t I? It's all I’ve got left now, and
I’ve paid for 1t, haven't I? Oh, I’ve paid all
right, and I’ve got to go on paying the rest of
my life. (With a bitter laugh.) Oh, what do
you know about temptation. You have never
tasted an egg in your life, and you stand there
and judge me—-who had it given to me—given
to me when I was a little, defenseless child-
got It in my blood before I knew what It meant
—and— (checking herself) Oh, what’s the use;
you never ate one, and you can’t understand—
you can't understand. (A pause—his back is to
her—she goes to him.) They gave tt to me fatten
I was young, Basil—when I was young.
(He doesn't move. Bhe turns and exits sob
bing. carrying the rug in her arms. He sinks
into the chair, his face in his hands.)
CURTAIN.
abating Society
onders of the Universe
By
Anthony H. Euwer
(Conducted by Prof. Ora Torric)
(This week we will take up the affirmative side
of the all-important question: "Resolved. That it
is worse for a man to sew on a button than for a
woman to drive a nail!" Next week It may bo
something else again.)
HEN we state that it is worse for a man to
sew on a button than for a woman to drive
a nail, we have
*
hit the nail on the head—
that Is, the feminine finger nail on the head of the
hammer.
Down through the ages since the time Mother Evs
designed her celebrated skirtlet with the aid of a
tew fig leaves and a bunch of crab-apple thorns, it
has been woman s sphere to do the sewing for the
family. Just as tt has been man's
sphere to handle a hammer since
the days he bounded a stone axe
on the head of some prehistoric
disosaurian In the quest of a suc
culent steak.
Therefore, would we but allow
Nature to have her righteous way
about everything, no man would
endanger hts soul and his body
attempting to sew on buttons. He
might prick his thumb and get
tetauus—that's the body danger—
:md it's safe to assert he would
use a line of unexpurgated lan
guage when he pricked his thumb
ihat would endanger the safety of
his soul.
It may not be quite right for a
woman to drive a nail. We are
ot attempting to prove it is. Our
! duty is to prove that it is much
| worse fo: a man to attempt to
i sew on a button.
Suppose a woman does try to drive a nail? When
she pounds hei fingers there are only three things
j that can happen. If she is devoutly religious she
j will probably say. "Oh, Dear!” If she is just an
■ average woman she will hop up and down and prob
ably say. “Oh. Darn!’ but If she Is a really quick
| tempered, highly-strung, sensitive woman, she will
throw the hammer through the window and clinch
her teeth and say nothing—that can he heard.
And there you are.
But when poor man essa.vs to sew on a button it
take3 him fifteen minutes to learn that the eve of the
ueedle is not on the same end as the point. During
this time he will have expressed himself freely on
several topics
Next he will jati the threaded needle through the
at ric. pul the button o. r uei tile and van - The
ivsuit i- his aim t. ill d. ;'uu liu.:.h, the Lutu:.
Pole right, 1013. by ttiv SUr Coropsnj. Great Britain Rights Reeffrred.
will fall to the floor and he will have to try agatn.
After several attempts at thlB, tt will suddenly
dawn upon him that It is necessary to tie a knot In
the end of the thread, but this discovery will not
come until he has expressed his opinion profanely
upon every known subject from why field violets are
purple to why the radio-activity of barum Is not
equal t6 that of pure radium.
The recording angels will weep and ask for the
latest Improved electric stenographic typewriters.
Then the man will diligently sew the thread over
and over between Just two of the four holes In the
button until he has them so full he has to hammer
the needle through, after which he will jab viciously,
run the needle Into his thumb and break tt off.
At this Juncture he will go Into convulsions, but
finally take a trip to the surgeon, have the thumb
X-rayed, the needle-point extracted
V
9
^>
4LP
and go back home.
"I got the button sewed on,”
he will exclaim, picking up the
garment. Then, with his knife,
he will cut the thread. In do
ing this he will cut all the threads,
and the button will fall off, and
when they find him and take him
away to the asylum he will be
moaning continually, "Button, but
ton, who's got the needle In the
haymow ?”
Then again, a woman can wait
until some male friend arrives to
drive that nail She hasn't got
to hold up anything In particular
with that nail. It may be a pantry
6helf or a curtain rod, or a pic
ture. But surely she can appear
In public whether these things
are properly suspended or not.
But the poor man — when
he sews on a button it is
because It Is terribly Important; fearfully Important.
That button is not going to hold up any shelves or
curtain rods, but It Is going to hold up something,
and he positively cannot appear In public until the
button is in place and on the regulation hold!ng-up
Job.
Woman doesn't have to pound that nail. It isn't
her Job and she can go out without the nail being
driven. But when It comes to a button, she should
be right at home sewing It on, In order that poor
man may venture forth sanely clad and wrest a few-
more wads of currency from hts business.
Inasmucn as woman generally and almost tmme
liiately gets that wad of currency, she has no excuse
for not sewing on the button.
There are few crimes as hideous, pitiful, and
shod, ng as that of the woman who allows man to
i , nil iiv o.vu luUous.
Copyright, 1913, by the Star Company.
Great Britain Rights Reserved.
No. 2—The Telephone
T HE telephone is the shortest audible distance between two alien
bodies. It consists of a wire through which may be poured language
of any kind—good, bad or foreign. By the use of the telephone, the
most difficult languages are made plainly intelligible—Greek, Arabic and
Weehawken havjng been transmitted with the greatest ease.
Like the phonograph, a number of people may listen to the telephone
at the same time, Including the operator when not otherwise engaged.
As many others as may comfortably get on the same wire may also engage
In the conversation, which Is thus much enlivened, consisting of a tourney
of wits, polite anathema and diversified invective, furnishing a delightful
pastime and, from the Inaccessibility of the opponents, quite harmless.
If you are not familiar with the.telephone and Its use, approach the
Instrument fearlessly, addressing the talk-hole quite informally with the
{
i
',JS
I
Hello, is this Nineveh? Well, send a whaler to Lat. 44.23,
i.on_ r . 89.37. I'm all ixl"
salutation, “Hello!’’ Do not try to talk to people who have no phone—
It takes at least two to make a phone conversation interesting. If they
have nothing but a gas meter, use the mail.
If there Is no response to your first greeting, hello again, using a
slightly rising inflection, with the emphasis on the metal holder. Do not
talk harshly to central. Beside attending the switch, telling the time of
day and reading best-sellers, they are constantly called upon to reprove
rude patrons, keep track of no end of family squabbles, etc., etc.
If you should not find the number you want, call up Information. Out<
line your dilemma as briefly as possible, put the receiver In your ear and
go to sleep. In half an hour or so, a gentle voice will awake you to say
that the phone has just been taken out of that apartment Then ask for
the nearest drug store and go to sleep again.
W hen you awake, wiggle the metal holder. If there is no response,
keep up the wiggling until you count a hundred. If there Is no answer by
this time, it would be better to hang up the receiver before continuing
your conversation. Always hang up the receiver—never throw it Re
member that information is a lady and that she represents a Limited
Trust. Questions of a personal, political or religious character should
not he asked under any circumstances.
There are Telephone centrals and Hotelephone centrals. To hold her
Job, an Hotelephone central must be able to look very beautiful. At the
end of the first year she acquires such a finish through her various social
connections that she is willing to accept a much higher salary for con
siderably less work.
This is paid by the millionaire who marries her and carts her off to
Atlantic City as soon a3 her photographs have been featured in all the
daily papers. Though apparently phony, these marriages are usually
very happy, as the bride, being skilled In all manly evasions and subter
fuges, may know what to expect and temper her conduct accordingly.
As you do not have to look people in the eye, plain lying can be
handled much safer on the phone than in ordinary conversation. Never
hang up the receiver till your partner has finished stating his case, as
this is considered the pinnacle of rudeness; it should only be resorted to
in the case of creditors, reporters, insistent suitors, invitations to turkey-
trots, etc.
One of the most important uses of the phone Is in the climax scenes
of the W all Street variety. It Is also used to some extent commercially.
When you drop in to use your friend’s phone, do not think because he
has ''unlimited service” that it applies to your conversation in particular.
Should you be cut off, abruptly, do not be peevish—remember this is
central s prerogative should vour conversation prove dry or uninteresting.
W hat changes might have taken place in the world's history, had the
telephone received earlier attention, we can now but vaguely approximate.
If Jonah, after his sensational disappearance, could have established
Immediate connections with his friends in Nineveh, a whaling expedition
could have set forth to recover the klanapped prophet without further
delay.
if he'd had a telephone, Paul Revere might have saved himself all
that wild night ride by sitting down and ringing up all the farmers from
their beds, and that shot might have been heard around the world three
hours sooner, at least. Does any one suppose that Sister Anne would
have spent all those hours of agony on Blue Beard’s tower looking for
succor if she could have called up a suitor to speed with all haste to the
rescue of her darling sister? And little Red Riding Hood, had she dashed
to the phone the instant she discovered the old wolf's perfidy, Bight
lived to become a dear old granny herself and tell the erants of thfP
terrible day to her own grand and great grand children.
But no. now that I think of it. perhaps 'tis just aa wall we didn't navw
it sooner—history would hate been utterly ruint** with a telephone.