Newspaper Page Text
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' . I *» •' ■'
in
Terrance's
Terrible Scrape
An Echo of the Barber'* Strike.
By Goode Knight.
CopyrtiM. 1813, to !hr Sl*r lompuij.
Ur, A' Britain Rlshti lleisrwl
O N those terrible (lays when
the people of Pompeii
were Riven the roast that
killed them; when 40.000 lit Lis
bon were Jolted into the Atlantic
and bathed to death, and when
the oontlnenl of Atlantis, with all
Its happy peoplo, was upheaved
and submarined Into the de|itbs of
the ocean, brining tiheir d«ath
rath up to 100 per cent in one
minute when these great cata
clysms happened the sky wag
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 Hlggeu-
botharn. 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-ooztng paving
blocks.
Sing ye, for Terrance was about
to be married.
IJft up your voice*, for Ter
ranee, though poor as an editor,
was about to marry an heiresser-
lne with ninety-three millions!
What wonder he yodled with Joy
as he sauntered forth to hts bar
ber’s to be dolled up for the cere
mony that would put him on easy
street?
"Well!” Terrance exclaimed,
when he found his favorite barber
shop closed.
But he went to the next one.
"Huh!” he snorted with disgust,
flndlng that shop also closed.
Then he wandered across the
street to another lonsorlal parlor.
"Great snakes!" yelled Terrance,
for this place was also cldsed as
tight as an Oil King s purse.
“The smaller shops will he
open," he mused, as he went down
a side street.
"Why, what the contin
ued Terrance, for on this street
all the shops were closed.
Terrance began to look pallid.
11c stopped twirling hjs malaeca
stick and plodded stubbornly up
anil down the streets In search
of an open harher shop.
The sun. like a dying monarch,
as the Fourth Header says, waB
sinking oelow the horizon, glld.ng
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 the
streets.
lie has ceased murmuring “Well"
REARST’S .SUNDAY AMERICAN, ATLANTA, GA., SUNDAY, MAY 25, 1013. .
She Sold Her Soul for an
Scene—Home of Young Millionaire and His Wife.
Time—Fifty Years from Now—Dinner Hour
,, :V. \*f-*> ' ' ' ,
Z iUak ill 1 „ ■ ’;«ii i 1
Mf
"So tins egg is the price of honor I"
I RENE—Half an hour early?
HASH/—I’m awfully hungry
1KENK—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
case, a very sad one, too. A man was being
tried for killing a hen.
IRENE-—And you helped sentence him—to
death? „
BASIL—There was nothing else to do. Don t
you understand he killed a hen— killed it In cold
blood? A man who can do that deserves no pity.
(She has taken buttle o) water out of fond safe,
half fills glasses, takes very small phial of milk
and medicine dropper and drops a little milk
in each glass.)
IRENE— But his family—••
RASH/- Oh, you women are so sentimental!
Have you forgotten that the hen Is the fowl
who lays eggsf »
IRENE Eggs. Oh! (She turns faint and
staggers slightly.)
BASIL— Irene—what's the matter?
1 RENE '(recovering)—Nothing—nothing, dear.
I’m better now. But wait a minute—I’ve a
treat for you to-night. (Hhc takes one cracker
from food safe, puts it on platter and sets it
before him.)
DASH- By .love, dear, but we ore llviug high
• n cracker!
IRENE And milk—
BASH. Milk! A cracker and milk the same
day—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-
»,lves once In a while, (She closes food safe and
locks it. They begin to eat. Ho serves her with
half the cracker, takes the rest himself and they
eat it with forks. He smacks his lips.) It is
delicious. Remember, when we first married we
couldn’t have these little luxuries. But, you
know, whenever I sit down to a meal like thl*
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.
Yon haven't been eating well; why, look there—
you’ve hardly touched your dinner!
IRENE—I’m not hungry. (She collects the
crumbs and puts them on a plate and the plate
in the food safe.) 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 he say? (She is silent.)
Come—come dear, why don’t you tell me?
IRENE—I—I—oh. what’s the use, Bus!!? It—■
BASII.—It's something serious, then?
IRENE—Yes. (An exclamation from him.)
We—we might as well face it. Basil, the doctor
suys 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.
BASH/—But—won’t a trip to Europe do—a
change of seene? Anything— (Irene sinks in
chair.) Why, it’s only two years ago you had
au egg—a whole one. I hail to mortgage this
house to get It for you. Surely you can’t need
another—so soon—
IRENE—1 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 yoli how I came to
be—this way—
BASIL—No, you never told me. Yon 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 It
from Europe. You know the effect the taste of
a egg has on one—the strange feeling of happi
ness that, once felt, enn 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; I know T shouldn’t have
married you without telling you of It; but—I
loved you, Basil.
BASH/—If you had loved me you would have
told me.
IRENE—Then you won’t—get it—-for me?
BASIL (recoiling)—Great heavens, l 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?
BASII/—Yes—I—I have a touch of indiges
tion. Good night. (Re, 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 ease strapped
on his left side, a revolver at his right.)
I RENE!— Ha rol d—you 1
HAROI/D (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 E'ood 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 lakes it, puts it in the
food safe. He hands her the paper.) Please
sign the receipt. (She does so and hands ii
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
Hud 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 touch this case.
IRENE!—Why, what does It contain?
HAROLD—Hush! (Lowers voice and comes
to h-er. whispering.) An egg.
IRENE!—An egg! (Btops her mouth with her
hand.)
HAROLD—Shi 1—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 be 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— (H»
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; ho
kisses her; then, realizing what he is, he stands
•with bowed head.) Now let me see the egg.
(After a m\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 ense. 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. A* she is closing
the lid Basil enters. She gives a startled cry
and moves away from the toblc, 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 drains his gun.)
BASIL (seizing the egg and holding it up)—
Shoot and watch It fall. (Harold lowers gun.)
IRENE—Basil, how did you know?
BASH/—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—Bnsil— Ah! (Gives a shriek as
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?
BASH/—Yes, claimed the price. Now pay It i
HAROLD—Yes, I’ll pay it; but your punish
ment is worse than mine. Through all your Ilf*
(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. Thank heaven I havsn’t got that to ^
face!
IRENE!—Harold, where are you going?
HAROLD—To give myself np.
IRKXE—But—It means—death.
HAROLD—Yes. Good-by. (He goes out.)
1RKNE (turns to Basil, who is standing mo
tionless)—Basil, I—I didn’t mean to—[ was
mud—the sight of It—the knowledge that It was
here—In 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.
I RENE—You—mea n ?
BASIL—You have betrayed me—for an egg.
1RE!NE—Walt, you needn’t go I’ll go now—
to-night.
BASH.—Very well. (Irene, starts to roll up
the t ug on which the egg Is lying.) Irene, have
you no shame? You would take It even now,
after wliat 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 it, 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 gtveu to me—given
to me when I was a little, defenseless child— j
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 it to me when
I was young, Basil—when I was young.
(He doesn’t move. She turns and exits sob
bing. carrying the rug in her arms. He sinks /
into the chair, his face in his hands.)
CURTAIN.
Our Debating Society Wonders of the Universe
By
E2 223
Anthony H. Euwer
Cop>ri*ht. 1913. by t.b» Star Oompsax Great Briuln Sight. Ri»/tts4.
Copyright, 1913, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserves.
and “Huh.” Long ago he began
talking sterner stuff. Now, when
ever he finds a closed barber shop
the people sniff and think the
board of health is fumigating some
nouse with brimstone. It is only
the remarks of Terrance.
The little birds have ceased
their twittering, the -mi has set,
the stars are- pee'ping out, one by
one, and still our hero plods.
At last, with a cry of joy, Ter
rance finds a barber shop that la
open. He rushes In.
"Quickly," he gasps, “a shave and
hair trim; I am In a hurry; 1 am
to be married in twenty minutes!’’
The barber scurries around.
Here 1* a big tip. He lathers our
hero's countenance and has care
fully removed the growth from one
tide when three forms enter.
They say something in Italian.
The little barber listens, then
he grins, then he wipes his razor,
places it in his pocket and says to
Terrance:
“Meester wool oblige by go; 1
losa da shop.”
"But you haven't finished. I’m
nly half shaved I ’’
“Da strike a. I am order to stop.
Da commit just-a get aroun’ to
■ i«. Ver’ sorry ”
"Do you mean to tell me, you
■ wed-off son of—er er Very
ell!” and sobbing hysterically
. Arrance staggered out.
The committee had surrounded
:n and were nonchalantly ex
lining a collection of weapons,
1 iluding stilettos and automatic
’/Olvera, which explains why tie
t interest In his conversation
d fled.
But she loves me—she will wed
ns i am! I cannot keep her
■lting!" he told himself, and he
rried to the home of his hvdress.
Put that maniac out. dooms!"
>red the lady wit ; the ninety.
• tree m.llions.
Do you not know me. Penel-
■T" be besought her ’T am
r Terrance, your .belovef*. your
anced. 1 should ha ’’
You should worry!" haughtily
. (aimed Pei. 1 : I have Just
-JifaSi .Us Oval
(Conducted hy Prof. Ora Torrie)
(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 I” Next week It may bo
something else again.)
W 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—
j that is, the feminine finger nail on the head of the
I hammer.
Down through the ages since the time Mother Eve
designed her celebrated skirtlet with the aid of a
few fig leaves and a bunch of crab-apple thorns, It
has been woman's sphere to do the sewing for the
family. Just as It has beeu 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 w-ould
endanger his soul and his body
attempting to sew- on buttons. He
might prick bis thumb and get
tetanus- that’s the body danger—
j and it's safe to assert he would
use a line of unexpurgated lan
guage when he pricked his thumb
that would endanger the safety of
1 his soul.
It may- not be quite right for a
woman to drive a nail. We \re
not attempting to prove it is. 6ur
duty is to prove that it Is much
worse for a man to attempt to
sew on a button.
Suppose a woman does try to drive a nail? When
she pounds her fingers there are only three things
that can happen If she is devoutly religious she
will probably say. "Oh, Dear!" If she is just an
average woman she will hop tip and down and prob
ably say, "Oh. Darn!’ but if she is a really quick-
temper, d, highly strung, sensitive woman, she will
throw the hammer through the window and clinch
her teeth and say nothing that can be heard.
And there you are.
But when poor r an essays to sew on a button It
i takes him fifteen minutes to learn that the eye of the
j needle is not on the same end as the point. During
this time he will have expressed himself freely ou
several topics
Next he will lab the threaded needle through the
i ;te, pu' the hutton’ov, r ;h n needle and yank. The
t iicuR is his .. i in >..11 lb out full length, the button
will fall to the floor and he will have to try again.
After several attempts at this. It 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 to 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 It 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
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
shelf 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 holding-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 his business.
Inasmuen as woman generally and almost Imme
diately gets that wad of currency, she has no excuse
for not sewing on the button
There are few crimes as hideous, pitiful, and
shock r.e as that of the woman who allows man to
cow ou ills o»n buttons.
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 having 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 UBe, approach the
Instrument fearlessly, addressing the talk-hole quite Informally with the
Hello, L- this Nineveh? Well send a whaler to Lat. 44.23,
80.U7. 1'ia ail in."
salutation, “Hello!" Do not try to talk to people who have no phone—
It takes at least two to make a phono 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. Oub
line your dilemmh 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.
When 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 be asked under any circumstances.
There are Telephone centrals and Hotelephone centrals. To kold her
Job, an Hotelephone central must be able to look very beautiful. At thej
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 as 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 Wall 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 your conversation prove dry or uninteresting.
What 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 kidnapped 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, might have
lived to become a dear old granny herself and tell the events of that
terrible day to her own grand and great grand children. \
But no, now that 1 think of it. perhaps 'tis just as well we didn't o
Jt sconer history would have beeu utterly ruined with a t<?lei>hone.