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THE GEORGIAN'S NEWS BRIEFS.
Children and Their Influence
By JERE K. COOKE.
(It may be asked why I, of all
men, should write upon questions
affecting marriage and other re
lations. In reply, I would say
that one who has gone through
what I have, suffered as much as
I have, and seen so much of the
world and it's hard side, may
possibly have something to say
that will be of use to others. /
hope so, at least.—JURE K.
COOKE.)
A N elevator apartment, a poodle
dog and a married couple. The
man is a grouch—the woman
unnappy and the poodle dog is the
recipient of their affection, caresses
and consideration. But this Is not a
home! The home is an elevatorless
flat.
It has no dog. but the companions
of the man and the woman ara a
group of happy, curly-headed chil
dren whose ages suggest a pair of
stairs. These are the joys of living.
The hapr*” voices, the running feet
and the childish play, literally fill
a home with sunshine and content.
It is said that most men of the
criminal class are single men. The
home life and love are so firmly grip
ped upon a married man’s heart that
he will hesitate long before he will
bring his trustful wife and innocent
children into the disgrace of his mis
conduct.
The curly-haired baby that lifts
its chubby hands to be taken into
his father’s arms is a strong deter
rent to wrongdoing. No happier wel
come can come to a hard-working
man than to be met at the gate at the
end of the day by a smiling, home-
loving wife with a squad of children
clinging to her skirts. It takes the
tiredness all out of his bones.
A Life Story.
Children hold a man and wife to
gether. I once knew a man who had
apparently everything that heart
could desire—a beautiful home, a
charming wife, a fine position, and
was well-liked by a host of friends.
Only one thing was lacking.
Of their union there was no off
spring.
He seemed happy, but there were
times when the evening hour ap
proached he had an undefined long
ing for something. After a while
the twilight hour, or in other homes
"the children’s hour,” became a lone
some void to him.
He would go down the street to
the club, or anywhere to get away
from himself. IAttle by little the
husband and wife drifted apart.
She was angry at first that he
sought pleasure away from her so
ciety, and then she got so she did not
care. Had she only had one dear lit
tle curly headed toddler at her side
to hold out chubby arms in unison
with hers, how different It might have
been.
Another came into her life who did
not go to the club. The husband had
an opportunity to make a lot of money
by speculation. It was very risky, but
he took the chance.
If the dear little baby eyes had
looked into his that morning, would
he have risked his all?
He lost! His wife, who had grown
not to care, turned from him. They
separated, and he, poor fellow, is
working alone to win back something
of all he had lost.
Two Stars.
There are two bright stars in the
crown of womanhood—one is to be a
wife of absolute fidelity, the other is
to become the mother of a contented
family.
Men seldom complain of the size of
their households. Each little stran
ger brings its own welcome, no mat
ter how undesirable they were thought
to be. The children, too, seem :o
thrive just as well wearing the older
children’s outgrown clothes and ire
as robust under the limitations of a
large family as though the mouths to
feed were few. The “only sons” are
generally spoiled, and in after life go
wrong.
I once heard a fine specimen of a
man remark: ”1 was one of a family
of nine and was 11 years old before I
knew a chicken had anything but a
gizzard and a neck!”
If a man is naturally morally weak,
his family do more to keep him
straight than all else combined. It
also goes a long way in making his
penalty merciful rather than harsh if
he does not keep within the law.
One of the most pathetic sights I
ever saw was a young husband up
for sentence in San Francisco and
headed for San Quentin. Just before
his doom was pronounced his wife,
fragile and wan, came into the court
room with her cooing infant in her
arms.
She went right up to the manacled
prisoner and kissed him. The child
reached out for its father and the
picture that little family presented
was enough to turn the heart of any
judge. Did his honor have mercy on
him? No! But he had mercy on the
faithful wife, who “for worse” rather
than “for better” was yoked up to
her mate.
He had mercy, too, on their inno
cent, helpless, crooning baby, whose
after life would be so conditioned by
the shackles on its father’s wrists
and by the stripes its father wore.
Women’s Boons.
Marriage and maternity are the
boons of women. Being a benedict
is the boon for man, and children
bring the benediction. “A little child
shall lead them,” so the Bible says,
and is the “blessed tie that binds.”
Woe to the wife who has had her
chance to have her baby and missed
it. The ghost of that unborn child
will toddle into her heart on lonely
nights, and the feeble cry for its
mother will bring anguish to her soul.
1 know a woman in such a plight—
I know r nothing more desolate than a
lonely woman who has not known
the joy of motherhood. It would be
better, infinitely better, for a mother
to place the flowers that represent
her affection on the grave of her little
lost loved one than as a lonely wife
to hear the ghostly voice of an un
born child calling her when it is too
late, in her desolation and despair.
H E felt to happy that he wanted
to take the whole world into
his arms. Last night happi
ness had come to him, wonderful, in
describable happiness, surpassing all
belief, showering upon him all its*
blessings, wrapping him in such a
splendor of light that he was almost
dazzled by its brightness.
He had met with his first success
as a poet and playwright. For the
first time he had felt the intoxicating
charm of the storming, roaring ap
plause of the hundred-headed audi
ence. Yes, life is beautiful, especially
when you are young and strong and
full of passionate longings and de
sires. Then it is quite impossible to
stay inside the close, stuffy rooms*;
then you must rush out into the
streets and look into the eyes and
souls of other people.
So he took his young fame out for
a walk, confident that his new friend.
Fortune, would give him a new proof
of her benevolence, a proof which, of
course, should be connected with some
young and lovely maiden.
And there were maidens enough in
the streets for It was the month of
May, the month of longings and de
sires for love.
But, strangely enough, he was not
attracted by any of these fair,
straight, slender beauties, though yes
terday he admired them one and all.
But to-day it must be something quite
different, nothing less than a fairy
princess, a woman who perhaps exists
only in the dreams of a poet and not
in reality. If he could only find a
woman like that he knew that he had
it in him to become the greatest
poet the world had ever known.
Suddenly the young poet stopped as
if hypnotized, for on the other side of
the street she was coming toward him
—the fairy princess of his fairest
dreams, a vision of feminine beauty,
grace and strength. The blood began
to rut'h through his veins and he re
mained where he stood, rooted to th«
spot.
Then he picked up all his courage,
an 1 a moment later he was at her
side. “Forgive my audacity, but ”
The young girl looked at him, not
encouragingly, and still not reproach
fully, with a strange, helpless ex
pression In her eyes and an embar
rassed movement of her hands. The
young man still mumbled a few com
monplace compliments, but no sign of
underetanding came into the young
lady's eyes.
Her very features and figure ought
to have told him that she was no
German, but undoubtedly a Parisienne,
charming, chic and graceful as she
was. It was too stupid that he had
not seen that at first glance. Thank
God, he knew her language. He ad
dressed her in French.
She smiled, a faint, pitiful smile,
and shrugged her shoulders to indi
cate that she had not understood him.
The young man did not know what
to do. Then she was no Frenchwom
an either. What might she be, then?
Perhaps an Englishwoman. Bu.t he
ridiculed the thought when he re
membered the lanky, angular daugh
ters of Albion that he had seen. The
idea was absurd. Should she be a
Russian? If so, he was lost, for na
did not know a single word of Rus
sian.
But suddenly he heard her address
him in his own native tongue:
“Don’t try to find any more subjects
of conversation, for I should not un
derstand you. If you want anything,
you will have to say it very loudly
into my ear, for I am almost deaf. ’
So that was why. The young man
was dumfounded. All his confidence
of victory had left him and he felt
something he had never known be
fore.
Then he collected his wits. What
was he to do? Should he shout his
wish into her ear? No; that would
never do. What he had to tell ner
could be told only in the softest whis
per, and, silent and discouraged, he
walked along at her side.
The streets with their crowds and
noises lay far behind them and the
mighty trees of the Tiergarten formed
a green dome over their heads. Then
he looked at her deeply and tenderly,
with eyes so full of fervent, passion
ate adoration that it ran like red-hot
lava through her young body.
And now she smiled, a tender, hap
py smile and, trembling with delight,
her lips whispered: “Yes, I under
stand you.”
Hand in hand they walked back to
the city.
Not Slow.
A reverend gentleman was address
ing a school class recently, and was
trying to enforce the doctrine that
the hearts of the little ones were sin
ful and needed regulating. Taking
out bis watch and holding It up he
said:
“Now, here is my watch; suppose it
doesn’t keep good time—now goes too
fast, and now goes slow. What shall
I do with it?”
"Sell it!” shouted a small young
ster.
Our Jap Brother
By BERTON BRALEY.
(With the Usual Apologies.)
r lflS talk of our “Japanese brother"
lias rather got under my skin,
For taking one thing with another
I do not consider him kin.
I freely confess 1 don’t love him,
However his virtues may shine.
He may be a brother of William J. Bryan,
But he ain't no brother of mine!
1 think he's a fraud and a shammer
For all of his courteous ways,
And I'll just add my voice to the “clamor
The ignorant populace raise.”
I don’t like the Japanese coolie
(I'm narrow, of course, you opine).
He may be a brother of William J. Bryan,
But he ain’t no brother of mine!
He may be all right out in Nippon,
And that's where I want him to stay,
I don’t like his getting his grip on
The. soil of the old U. S. A.
I don’t like his ways or his morals,
His creed or his facial design.
He may be a brother of William J. Bryan,
But he ain’t no brother of mine!
Precociousness in Love
By BE \TRICE FAIRFAX.
“Prccociousness in love-mak
ing is a great mistake. It pre
vents the enjoyment of youthful
years, which should be free from
anxiety, and leads to entangle
ments and hasty attachments,
which cause much distress.”
H. J. HARDY.
W HEN a girl is between 12 and
16 she looks so much like a
large-sized doll that those
of the other sex treat her as such,
taking into no account that in her
little body there is a heart with a ca
pacity for suffering greater than any
woman’s, and a soul that is like an
untried instrument, waiting for th»
master's hand to strike the chords.
If he strikes it gently, evoking a
melody that is sweet and pure, that
melody becomes the keynote of he' -
existence. If, thinking only of his own
brutal passions, he strikes chords that
should lie dormant, he wrecks the in
strument and ruins her life.
If all the men, young and old, would
only Stop, Look and Listen, what a
tale of tragedies might remain untold!
If they confined their love-making to
women grown; if they observed in
love the Golden Rule in sport, to fight
only with those their own size, there
would not be so many mothers and
fathers weeping over premature
graves to-day!
A Chance for Evil.
“The heart of a girl is the home of
dreams.” In her dreams the man
who comes to her with a story of love
is brave and noble and good and true.
Her father has never deceived her;
her mother is the spirit of truth; her
friends are loyal; she doesn’t know
what deceit means. She is trusted,
and she trusts. She has always be
lieved what others tell her; how nat
ural that she continues to believe
when some dream hero assumes real
ity!
The trust and innocence of youth,
which should be a bulwark of de
fence, becomes the drawbridge by
which the enemy enters and takes
possession. •
An effort is making all over the civ
ilized world to protect young girls
with the armor of Knowledge. A good
thing, but not enough. So long as
there are young girls in the world
there will be hearts with a woman’s
longing for love, accompanied by
brains with only a child’s capacity for
reasoning. It is not enough to appeal
to the girl; an appeal should be made
to the man.
No Excuse.
Let him Stop, Look and Listen.
Somewhere in the world every day
some young girl who has made the
discovery that her lover has been
playing with her as if she were in
reality the doll s-he resembles writes a
tragic little note of good-bye to moth
er and lover, and ends her life.
He was amusing himself. She
wasn’t. To girls of this age iove js
real and awful.
Perhaps he meant no harm. Per
haps he committed no greater sin
against the girl than to make love to
her. But this will not lighten the
weight on his conscience when she is
driven to a desperate deed.
Youth Is hopeful, but not as hopeful
as it is morbid. Her little heart is
broken, and since she can not touch
his heart living, she finds consolation
jn the thought that her death will. It
is a period of insanity that comes to
ail girls whose hearts are awakened
before their brains are matured, a
most dangerous period, and one which
all men, young and old, should be
warned against.
If they must make love, let them
observe the golden rule of all sport,
and select someone their own size and
age.
A Woman Builder
T HE astonishing manner in which
women of to-day are invading
the fields of employment which
a few years ago were considered the
sole prerogatives of man is once more
strikingly illustrated by the remark
able achievements of Miss Alice Dur
kin, New York’s only master builder,
who employs over 700 men, and who
competes with the contractors of this
city for skyscraping contracts.
For four years Miss Durkin has been
numbered among the master builders
of the city, and in that time »he ha9
erected buildings to the value of $2,-
000,000. She is the first and only
woman member of the Building
Trades Association of New York.
Her career is a veritable romance
of Industry. The daughter of a
wealthy man who lost his money, she
took a post when quite a young girl in
the office of a leading New York
builder fourteen years ago.
Business Qualities.
“I took a keen intere^ in the work,”
said Miss Durkin to a newspaper in
terviewer, “and I seized every oppor
tunity of talking to carpenters, ma
sons and plumbers, and learned a lot
from them about materials. labor,
construction and other things which
have to be considered by the con
tractor. I attended classes at night
and studied continually, and after I
had been In the office a year I asked
permission to figure on some altera
tions in a school contract. Afterward
my employer began to secure con
tracts on figures I had prepared. Of
course, it has been hard work, and
there have been many details to over
come; but it has been very enjoyable.
A knowledge of mathematics, a clear
head and a great deal of tact are
needed in this business.”
It might have been thought that the
contractors of New York would have
looked with disfavor on Miss Durkin’s
invasion of their trade; but, as a mat
ter of fact, they have acted in a most
kindly and friendly way toward her.
“In fact,” she sayi. ‘they have been
particularly courteous to me, because
I am a woman competing with them
on equal grounds.”
A Remarkable Sight.
Public schools, nurses’ homes and
institutes are among the buildings
which Miss Durkin has constructed,
and it is a notable fact that shortly
after she started business for herself
she competed against eleven leading
contractors for the New York Public
Library in which over $10,000,000 was
represented, and stoe only lost by a
hair’s breadth. She has also built
one or two Broadway skyscrapers.
Miss Durkin superintends every de
tail of her business, and it is a re
markable sight to see this dainty,
charming member of the fair *ex
threading her way through scaffold
ing and piles of bricks and mortar,
directing gangs of men during build
ing operations.