Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME XVII. NUMBER 13.
“AND THOUGHT
THE WORLD
WELL LOST”
UP leaf-strewn Kay street, which
leads to the Newport reading
room, strode a solitary figure
the other day. • Hands in his
pockets and coat-collar turned
up, he walked along with bowed head.
He was Amos Tuck French, clubman,
millionaire and brother of Mrs. Elsie
French Vanderbilt
Not two blocks away, around the
corner in Everett street, two laugh
ing young people were posing for
their pictures in a big automobile,
with a dog between them, says a writ
er in the New York World. She was
tall, well-groomed, arrayed in a fetch
ing frock, and nestling close to the
young fellow who sat at the wheel of
the machine. They were Mr. and Mrs.
John Edward Paul Geraghty —the
young couple who eloped last August
—she from Amos Tuck French’s villa
near the Cliffs, he from his Newport
garage.
All society knows of their runaway
flight in their automobile last sum
mer, with detectives, Mr. French and
Mrs. Vanderbilt on their trail -in
autos. And society knows of the
reconciliation that never was because
tse pretty bride would not go home
unless they accepted her chauffeur
husband —“demonstrator” he likes to
be called —and of their taking their
little cottage home in Newport where
young Mr. Geraghty, son of one of the
town hackmen, has an interest in two
garages now, one in Fillmore street
and the other in South Baptist street.
Modest but Happy Home.
“Come in,” laughed young Mr. Ger
aghty, opening the door of his Ever
ett street cottage.
It is a pretty little cottage—his
AOIKjI
Ips
*Q
"Ham and eggs this morning,”
laughed young Geraghty. "But she
sure can make coffee.”
modest home where the girl from the
Cliffs has come to stay. Outside it
is a dun green; inside it shines with
new wall paper, new rugs, new furni
ture, new china. All that is old in it
are the little girlish souvenirs of her
former life which the eloping bride
brought from her other home.
“Well,” laughed the young bride
groom, “here it is—this is our new
home. And don't forget, eve.-ything
is bought and paid for.”
The Geraghtys live as a thousand
other Newporters live who are neither
poor nor rich. There are 30,000 of
them, but only 300 get their names in
the society columns. As yet the for
mer Miss French has not been chron
icled that way. Very frankly, she is
not on speaking terms with her father
and mother. "We have eleven rooms,”
said the bridegroom, “four on this
floor, four upstairs and three in the
third story. Pretty nice, isn’t it?”
Indeed, the young fellow might well
be’ proud, for it wasn’t sc long ago
that he was making SSO a month,
hardly enough to pay the rent-of his
present home. Mrs. Geraghty was up
stairs making the beds and singing
merrily.
Mrs. Geraghty Does the Honors.
But there was a household tragedy
on—Josephine, the colored maid of all
work, was away and there was no
body to cook but Mrs. Geraghty, who
always before had a lady's maid to
wait upon her personally, and a but
ler, footmen and chauffeurs to see
that everything she wanted was prop
erly done.
On the parlor table were relics of
the bygone days which Mrs. Geraghty
has put behind her. As she said:
“Society women are all vapid and
the men are fools. I haven’t any use
for the crowd. Money, an artificial
social position; having better looking
©lw Snutiitim SulktitL
clothes than Mrs. Somebody; giving
a more extensive party than some one
else; having the most men trailing
around after you; getting somebody
else’s husband away from her —these
are the things Newport people care
about.”
But to the cosey little home of the
elopers.
There is a square hall to the left as
one enters and back of it is the kitch
en. To the right is the modest par
lor, and back of that is the dining
room. It is a home that a clerk in a
prosperous store might have, or a
tradesman who has a nice little busi
ness in shoes or fish. But it isn’t
anything like Tuck’s Eden, at Tuxedo,
or the villa of Newport, where the
Amos Tuck. Frenches live.
Difference In “Homes.”
It isn’t the kind of home that the
pretty bride had up to that fateful
day in August last when she made
up her mind to run away with young
Geraghty and upset Newport by the
elopement as it has seldom been up
set before.
The hall Is in red, with a few con
ventional pictures hung about. There
iilll.liill
I-
r —
/ySg -- w /
~ —
Works as Other Newporters Work
Who Are Neither Rich Nor Poor.
nKR
— SBl
T® j
jp*
There were lamb chops lying ready
for the deft fingers of the bride, and a
basket of potatoes. And within the
nice little ice box was the cold meat
and salad for the” evening meal.
is a nice, new rug, a hat rack, and the
telephone stands on a little table. The
parlor—it can’t be called a drawing
room —is modestly papered in green
and the dining room back of it. is in
brown. There is mission furniture
brand new —and a few pictures, but
the most interestin thing is the great
collection of pho ugraphs In silver
frames that line .he center table and
the mantel. /
These are of society people, Mr. and
Mrs. French, ',ll the other members of
the family, 'ne Newport society girls
of the bride’s eighteen years, young
men who frequent the Casino and the
reading rooms, those that the former
Miss Julia French knew in the days
when she drove her electric runabout
and was asked out to dine and dance
every evening of the summer.
Most interesting perhaps is a little
frame hanging on the wall near the
door to the hall. In It are preserved
three sprays of lily of the valley, part
of a bride's bouquet. Written in a
childish hand over the browned and
faded leaves and flowers is this:
Pauline Le Roy French
Samuel Jones Wagstaff
May 5, 1908.
This was a wedding in the French
IRWINTON, WILKINSON COUNTY, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1911.
family. Miss Pauline French, an old
er sister, married young Mr. Wagstaff,
a society beau and club man. The
present Mrs. Geragnty, then a girl of
fifteen, was an attendant at her sis
ter’s wedding and kept the little sou
venir of the happy day. She herself
had no attendants at her wedding ex
cept the copntry people who happened
to be at Landlord Riley’s little hotel
at Central Village on that bright sum
mer morning when the Rev. L. A.
Perry married the society belle to her
chauffeur sweetheart. '
“Well," laughed young Geraghty,
"how do you like it?”
Mrs. Geraghty Happy.
It was a real home, to be sure. Up
stairs Mrs. Geraghty was about her
household duties and singing as she
went.
“Oh, never mind about me,” she
laughed from upstairs, "I’m too busy.”
“The real truth is,” said Geraghty,
half apologetically, “that Josephine of
ours is getting married and we have
to do our own work.”
It was perfectly plain that the
bridegroom was doing his share, for
he was in a sweater and old trousers,
straightening up things downstairs
while his bride worked upstairs.
The kitchen, as he led the way to
it, would delight the eye of any house
wife. The tea kettle was singing mer
rily on the stove and on the table
lay the bundles from the butcher’s for
the day’s meals.
“Ham and eggs this morning,”
laughed young Geraghty. “But she
sure can make coffee!”
There were lamb chops lying ready
for the deft fingers of the bride, and
a basket of potatoes. And within the
nice little ice box was the cold meat
and salad for the evening meal —like
other Newport villagers the Geraghtys
dine In the middle of the day. Out
at the villas the butlers say “Dinner
is served” at 8 p. m. But there is no
butler for the young elopers.
"Darn my socks?” he repeated.
“Sure she does. She knows how to
run a house with the best of them.
She does everything just right She
knows how to cook, to make beds, to
sew and to wash things. We’re hav
ing great times together.”
All village Newport knows the Ger
aghtys now. They are out on the
streets very often and they go to every
“Darn my socks?” he repeated.
"Sure, she does. She knows how to
run a house with the best of them.
She does everything just right. She
knows how to cook, make beds, to
sew and to wash things. We’re hav
ing great times together.”
new show in town. Moving pictures
are their delight.
Young Mrs. Geraghty’s chum now is
her sister-in-law, little Miss Edith
Geraghty, daughter of the village
hackman. They walk down Thames
street of an afternoon to go to mar
ket or to see the ships that lie out in
the harbor.
But Bellevue avenue, the Casino
and the Cliffs know her no more. She
belongs now to the village, not to
the villas.
But she is happy.—New York
World.
The Mind of Joseph Pulitzer.
When summing up the gist of any
matter declarative of his own thought
in regard to it, his speech was a les
son in diction and construction. No
essayist or pamphleteer or historical
writer but would have profited by lis
tening to him. Everything that he
himself has written or dictated shows
this clarity of expression. He would
have made a great lecturer, a great
pleader before the bar, had not journal
ism and politics in his early youth
swung him away from his legal studies
to the most exacting of all professions.
By long practice each of his secre
taries had learned to know his needs
and bis methods of listening. Every
article read to him from the mag
azines, reviews and quarterlies had to
be prepared, rehearsed, marked and
deleted. Even the novels, of which he
was a voracious reader, had to be thus
condensed. —James Barnes, in Collier's
Weekly.
Natural Result.
“What a thin voice that doctor has!”
“I suppose it is the result of his
constant efforts at skeletons’ articula
tion."
Don’t Delay the Game
We Have the Goods; we know
< .
you will need them soon.
Why Wait ?
Why not buy now when you can first
of all get the best selection? Next, not be
crowed. When cold weather settles down
onus we will have all we can do, and our
advice is to shop early--get the pick—get
the best attention, and best of all buy
from
THE BIC STORE
»
We are the people that have the goods; we know
that cotton is cheap; we know and you know the win=
ter needs must be had; the only thing is where to buy.
Our store store stands for all that is good and best
in the new way of doing things=-=the new idea is the
the one price and small profit. Then we give
Profit Sharing Coupons
Come today. We are ready. We sell everything
to wear. Yours for more business.
W. S. Myrick & To.
Milledgeville’s Only Department Store
SI.OO A YEAR.