The evening world. Newspaper, July 19, 1907, Page 9

HERE are a few of the many letters received! tn answer to the query: “Should a Wife Have a Vacation?’” If YOU babe any views on the subject that you would like to express, write them to “’Wife’s Uacation Editor, Evening World.’” Sensible Wife. To th or of The Evening World: Y wife won't go away for a vaca- M tion. I wish she would, but, she seems to be on to me. P. T. 0. His Wife in Europe. ‘To the Editor of The Brening World: SEND my “‘ife off to Europs tor ] three months every year. Under ate? the circumstances: I, can't under- Prat sort.of dunderheads the are who object to letting yes. pO away, Any man who Kotten his wife off his hands (ae montis inthe —giad —rom~ Smertime wll never want to interfere reith her good time. WISE BOY, Commuter’s Idea. To che Raitor of The Evening World: F husbands were to advocate publicly I @ vacation from their wives, there would be a shriek that could be heard from ‘Frisco to Philadelphia. Tho man who asked for such a relief would be called @ brute, who was trying to shirk his natural obligations to home and wife. Well, turn the problem round. (remembering “What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander’” and then yk the vacation-craving wite: “Where do you stand, and why does hubby stand for ft?" JERSEY COMMUTER. Trust Your Hubby. To the Editor of The Evening World: qe woman who cannot trust her husband away from her «@ month ought to get some one for a husband that she could ¢ruat. ‘A woman who doesn't possess the ‘Kat up and get” necessary to manage to away from the routine of domestica WOMAN’S D ‘fe for a month or so every year will yoon find that she !s looked upon a« a convenfence and not as an enter- taining companion for her husband. Too many wives are prone to get Into a rut and become keepers of the laun- dry list; when they do, they are in great danger of becoming ‘thas-beens.”’ If a man will go seeking other wo- men'a noctety while his wife 1s xet- Ung the benefit of a change of rou- |tine tn the. country, he will seek them jat any thme, and the woman who hangs aroung him tn that foar ts only lessening her standing as @ ¢hing to be cherished. ‘By all means, let us have the vacations for women. Mra. J. B. H. Consider Hubby. To che Editor of The Bvening World: N my opinion, every man should mar- I ry sensfbly, ao that he would rejoice in going with his wife on a vaca. tion. If they possibly couldn't leave home at the same time, or that only one of thein éould have @ vacation, 1 certainly think tho husband deserves the vacation most, because in nine out of ten cases, despite clevi women writers’ opinions, the 1s the one who does ‘the hardest labor. Many « frail Uttle husband married te one of these numerous stout matrons would agree {th me in this. But {f a good, hard- working woman has a drunkard hus- band, she alone ts entitled to @ vacation, and & long one, that will restore ¢o her new hope and encouragement. FRED 8. T. It Is a Wife's Due. To the Edllor of The Evening World: WOMAN who totle all year ls en- A titled to a vacation for a week to two months, It ta not « ques. tion of whether she loves her hus- band, but It is ber due as well es his, and the children, {f small, stiould be with her. As regards temptation and annoyances any man who really loves hia wife wlll evold both, for hia own. and family’s honor. The true keynote to family home happiness is @ trusting. true wife and @ trusting. true sd. uch is mine and ever will de. ARTHUR ML. Yonkers, N. Y. Partners in Toil. To the Editor of The Evening World: HOULWD a wife have a vacation? A S yacation from what? From her hueoand? (From her home? If so, {t should have been mentioned in the marriage ceremony. A husband ymually works nifty weeks a year at office or shop, and takes two weeks’ vacation. Why should not wm wife work fifty weeks a year at keeping her house and family tn order, end then share her huspand's two weeks’ vacation? If-it ts enough fer him it 49 enough for her. Giarriage in its highest sense is a partnership. Wy should one part- ner take a va and the gpher not? Why should one loaf all jer while the other tolla? Let them yacationa together. WORDS. . Be careful what you sow, «tris, For all the seeds will grow, atria, D you ever {hink how many wnnsoossary words you speak in Just one day? I will not say ‘Think twioe, then speat,” for I'm | Soe “eten . If you are an ordinary girlie-girl, that you will throw "1 @own the paper and say “I won't Le proached to! I've heard that often enough!” And I-won't-btame yout you do- Hut-you-are-not-an- ordinary -girE—You-are-a most extraordinary girl, for you are Ii srening. It may never have occurred to you to try a whole day of atlencé. Nearly all girls talk © lot and say, oh, ever so many dear and funny and otherwise things without thinking of the effect of thelr words. Everything you say matters, but ft matters expecially what you say to your young men friends, Your influence with Wien tk Kimost-poundiess, “Tis watt “One wytiable of « woman's speech can: dis: aolya more than a man’s heart can hold. If you will talk ttle, think quietly and much, you will, when you Go speak, | of them to see the say the right thing. Economize on words. Fewer words, better thoughts, Re\/ {no of sentiment, an werds are our thought-blossoms, and cultivate your gardens qember that our carefully, Is This Lobe? | Dear Betty? INDLY tell me what true ove ist 1am, in love with a girl who says she loves me, Ghe forbids my «o~ with other girls, and yet hersett continually goes out with other fellows. call this true jovet J. B. 8. } afraid she 1s selfish and some- ver in Sweden at the Newlyweds and Baby. decided, Do you think I should call to see her eny more or ak her to coma to the theatre? - I am sorry thet you heve given pour heart to_a girl rho so Ce ed seer re. another and who appears undecided when you ask for her company, These things should con’ you_as to the oquree you ehowld follow. Unless you wish to court I would a4- vise you to svrotd ber society. Wants Her Beau Back, Dear Bettys ‘MM twenty and heve known a young | Pmatiet erontann ter fon sat fu years, Ho would call on me every once in @ while for about atx or eight monthe at a time and then stop for 00 reason at all, I heave not seen him for | the past aix months and I find he 1s, with another girt who lives near im. Now, dear Betty, I know vey Jove ma fi ou! Feameet enn Meh tes fet me 6. now what to do rR i not ari for. this epperen! aca ‘young if a My be eome ‘Ou be They Laugh Dear Mr, McManus: Peghaps you do not know that over here in ‘Gweden your “Newlyweds and Their Baby” are so much enjoyed, and furnish a great deal of amusement. 1 am living here for the past two years, away from “dear Qld New York," so 1 am always glad when | get the American pa two or three times a week, + translate to Swetlish the comic doings of the “Newlyweds,” and it amusing ie the natives look ts and have a good laugh Helsingborg, Sweden. forward for little “Da-da”. and his over them. Sincerely yours, EMILY BRENNAN EKBERG. ' world’s The Foolkill THIS: RICKEY IS THE THING —ONLY 1 DON'T’ Seem TO BACK To BEER FOR ME! BRING SEVEN More! ——_>—— (By Permission of George Munro's Sons.) SYNOPSIS QF PRECEDING CHAPTERS. Bertie Cecil, of the ¥ires Lue ee noe Vipsount hoy ilies 12 ‘aah fag moan of fashion. goin Sriole bes” of the exclusive Social set fe, Pmatand | FSS Tinmanae “favorita with oth nen and Ww ing tike a king, is Rete et evar, and brother, Barkel out of to ‘i 15 Ripbon— Steeplechase, Sreunes Ait th ie peeege ‘enciting ride, Forest Seat Oe peal Samra we je greeted by a it! perenne CHAPTER IV. (Continoed.) * Man and Woman. HE laughed a little, s0 ala S he. They were used to ex change these passages in an admirably ertiatte masquerade, but it was a}ways alittle droll to seach. other wear the dom- 4 neither had much im the other. @ preux chevallor!" cried. his queen of beauty, “You would have Med tn @ ditch out of homage to me. Who shall say that chivalry is past? Tell me, Bertie, is tt so very delight- credence "What MORRIS, _| ta}, that desperate effort.to break your with whom ha had Daily Magazine, GD G) G2 fp er Yow! ‘THAT FAN 15 NO Goop! ME FOR A NICE COLD BEER! neck? Tt tooks pleasant, to judge by {ta effects. It is the only thing én the world that amuses you?" ‘"Well—there is a great deal to be mld for it,’ replied Bertie, musingly, “You see, until one has broken one’s neck, the excitement of the thing Isn't totally worn out; can’t be, naturally, because the—whbat do yeu call !t?—consumms- v.| tion tan't attained till then. The worst of it éx, {t'e getting commonplace, get- Ung vulgar, such a number break their necks, doing Alps and that sort of thing, chat we shall have nothing at all left to ourselves spoon.” “Not even the monopoly of sporting wuiclde! Very hard," ead her tadyshlp, with the lowest, most langwid laugh In the nworld, very like “Beauty’e’ own, gaye that it had a considerable infleo- Won of studied affectation. of which he, however-imueh-of-a dandy he wes, was wholly gutltless. ‘Well, you won mag- pificently; that little black man, who is he? Lancers, somebody said?—ran you wo fearfully close. I really thought at ‘one time that the Guards bad lost," “Do you suppose that # man ha) T Lady Quenevere’s 0, eould lose? An Py auch hangs tas, been viotory ever since the days of tourna- ments!” murmured Cecil with the sott: ext tenderness, but enough lasi- ness in the tone and. lamghier in tho eye to make It hixhly doubtful whether he was not Isughing both at her and lat himself and was wondering ‘why the deuce a fellow had to talk such non- sense, Yet she was Lady Guenevere, nder Two Flags. since they stayed together at Rolvotr for the Croxton Park week the autumn jous; and who was beautiful enough make their-“friendship" as enchant. ing as & page out of the “Decameron.” And while he bent over her, filrting ‘in fashion that @ darting looking down 28% drawing-rooma, and to her superb Velasques eyes, he did not know, and if he had known would of s, chat afer off, and bis ga he course through his Davis, “the Welcher,” (a Ben a mratched the finish—watched Guards’ Crack” landed at the dis- straining on to t race who the tance—muttered. with a mastiff's sav- age growl: “Fle wins, does he? Curse him! That 4—4 ewell—he #han't rwin long. CHAPTER V. A Point of Honor. <NGQ-RERKELBY--ORCIL titted { Y his head with a quick, reproach- ful anger, and In the gaslight his cheeks were flushed, his eyes full of tents. ‘The worst 14 "oon told," he sald. huskily, and his teeth ohattered to- ether slightly, though with cold ms he spoke: “I lost two hundred to- night; I must pay it, or be disgraced forever: I have not a farthing; I can- not get the money for my Nfe; no usur- erscwill lend to me, I am under age, and—and”——his volce sank lower and krew tmore defiant, for he knew that Jn_lore eyes i the sole thing forbidden him peremp- Bill Hustle, of Harlem. SE SURE You Go | TO (TE PHOTOGRAPHER'S, wittiam! G2 &2 &R WHAT ARE YOU WASTING ALL ‘THAT ye Friaay, july 19, By. R. W. Taylor GIMME A NICE, BOY? I WANT ‘coud 5 rT with a puzzled look. “I don't think we are," wald Mr, Jarr, who lked to be asked tm- portant questions so he could give portentous answers. “You see, it is this way: There is no doubt that the coumtry Itself is prosperous, business is good, all factories are working, prices are fair, the farnver Is getting good money from his crops, but there has been, in certain fiduciary concerns and many cor- porations, such as rallronds and mines, enormous overcapitalization. The peo- ple at large are beginning to realize this and regard all bonds and stocks with more or less suaptcion. Tils causes stringoncy among Ananélera, and Walt street feela the effect of it. In my opinion it is a good thing that a halt Bis been called at this time and'— “How do you expect me to understand all that?" asked. Drs. Jarr. my head ache!* 5 “You asked me,” sald Mr. Jarr, “and when I started to explain to you, chy? And Mr. Jarr was so mullenly indignant that he couldn't complete the sentence, but frowried and continued with his breakfast with em sir: of injured gloom. ; i Ss “Tm sorry tf ft hurt ‘your feelings,” said Mrs. Jarr, “but you really tnter~ rupted me by that long, explandtion that I couldn't make head or tall ef. I was golng to tell you, If you would only let me get a word in edgewaya, that Mr. Downer told ms there were terrible hard times In this country, that things were getting worne every day, that men were out-of work and np one had any money and he expected to aea things ‘all go ‘to smash." i : “Ah.” paid Mr. Jarr. “Downer thinks everything ts in a demmed state be- cause he's out of work, hasn't a cent, is dunned for whet he owes and hasn't any proepecta. Belng that way himeelf he nkturally imagines it is so with every one else.” g : “1 don't ace why he thinks that. He must see that other people are pros perous, He miust know that other people have money even if he hasn't.” “He doesn’t sea the qne or know the other,” said Mr, Jarr, “He has been trying to interest a lot of people in am Invention of his, and he has tried to borrow money from a great many people. What's the result? Why, every~ where he goes people who din not care to put up money for his patent tell him they are aN tled up, that they can’t get what is due then, that business is bad. and 90 on; while the people he tries to borrow from tell him they are down and out, that they expect to go bankrupt, that they haven't anything but debts: in short, the man telling hard luck stories himself docsn't bear anything but hard luck stories in return.” “And that's why when rich men oome to this country and meet other rich! men and are takers around and shown the big ntorvs and the big factories they get up at the danquets gtven in their honor and congratulate ua for being the most prosperous nation?! asked Mrs, Jarr. 5 ‘“Hrectly,” sald Mr. Jarr, “As our nelgtborhood 18, so we judge the mrorid. “I'm cure I try to saye all I can,” sald Mrs. Jarr, ‘But I can't save any- thing, a0 don't blame me|tf hard times should come “It's queer to nue," replied Mr. Jarr, “how some people get along. They live better than we do, they spend more money than wo do, and yet I know I make More money than they doi" Soy eee ry: “Don't say that It's my fault! exclaimed Mra. Jarr, flaring up. “Hold on there!” sald Mr. Jarr. “It's too hot to fuss this weather. Youve sald all thoss things t> me so often that you believe them, so I won't contradict, If we have enough to eat and some decent clothes, to wear that's all one gots out of life anyway, so what's the difonence?” And Mr. Jarry arose to depart for his duties for the day. “You don't think there's going to be hard times, then?” satd Mre. Jerr, as he stood at the door.” \ - “Nonsense!"' sald Mr, Jarr. ‘We have enough to get along on, anyway!” “I'm glad you think #0," Mre, Jarr called after him. “Then, as you feel #0 opthmistic, you pron't mind that I took @ little money out of your pocket this morning?" Mr, Jarr clutched at himself In wild efarm, ‘ 3 “Oh, you've got change for your umeh and car fare!” shouted Ors. Jarr. Her lord and master frisked his pockets nervously. He had had a ® bill ty his vest pocket and a $10 bill sunk in an obscure corner of his hip packet, cached under a folded handkerchief. Which had she taken? Mr: Rangle joined him. ‘‘How‘a business?" he arked. ‘Something awful,” replied Mr. Jarr. ‘‘{ ttrink we are financial stringency, Nobody has any mancyt* SO eee “py? you really think we are going to have hard times? asked Mra. Jarr, “tt makes |terlly by both his father and his broth ers was the thing he had now to tell, “ané—I borrowed three penies of Gran- ville Lee yesterday, as he came from the Corner with a lot of tank notes after settling 4ny. I told him I would pay them. to-morrow; I made sure I should have won to-night." Bertie started from b{s chalr, his sleepy languor dissipated. In his code there was one shameleas piece of utter and unmentionadle degradation—It was to borrow of a friend. - “You will bring some Gisgrace on us before you die, Berkeley" he said, with 2 -keener.Infection..of pain and con. tempt than had ever been tn his voice. ‘Have you no common knowledge of honor?” ‘The lad flushed under the lash of the -words,-dut {twas a flush of. anger. rather than of shame; ‘he did not lift his eyes, but gazed sullenly down on the yellow paper of a Paris romance he was trritably dox-earing. "You are severo enough.” gloomily and yet insolently. #uoh—a—mirror_of honor yourrelf? suppose my debts at the worst about one-fifth of yours,” “1 can suggest nothing except to take the morning mall to tho shires, ask our father straight out; he never refuses you.” Berkéley looked at him with a be- mildered terror that banished at a stroke hix sullen deflance; he was {r- By H. Methfessel. he said Are you ra ° and |, <p By Ouida <p A Threat of Family Disgrace and a Ride for Life Sta:tle. “Beauty, of the Guards,” Out of His Usual Calm. ; a Bertie. Dangerous? How a you are; as if 1 could not anvereniencet Do you remember my four foans Bt Longchampst' It was the Countess revolute as @ girl, and keenly moved by fear. “ would rather cut my throat,"’ he that rad, with wild. exaggeration uunervere : a was Dut the literal reflection of the| Berto Cecil was atving ST trepidation on him; “as I live I would! Pooplent from Richmond. T have hud #o much from him tately—| piquy herself on inc’ oii tune nes you don't know how much—and now | matghlessly, but ae he ree g ofall times, when they threaten to|to her, Maraschino and his companion quiekened Wier trot, ang tose, i Pretty thoroughbred heads,” conaclou of ® less powerful mand on the reins, for the mortgage on Royal- "Your intelligence 1s not cheerful. vhall Jet their pace o' ree Uttle one,” he paid, with a. langutd| pobody to run over here,” sald her stretch of Gis limbs; {t was hla nature) monsiune., Ya ten donc, mon” beaa to glide off painful subjects. “And—l| Maraschino, as_ tho: the realiy—am-—sieepy}—¥eu thine there 4 erates tion, Deke gad Tato an s canter, no hope father will help you ptr rer: peepee “I tell you I will shoot myself through the brain rather than ask him.” “It's no use to give you rfalse nope, young one,” he maid gentiy, “I can do nothing. You ought. to know me Dy thia time, and if you do, you know, too, that If the money were mine, it should be youra at a word—If you don’t, no matter! Frankiy, Berke, I dm sii down bil; my_billa_may be _called_in any moment; when they are I muat send in my papers to sell and cut the country, If my, dune don't catch me before, which they probably will, In whioh -event I shall be, to all lotents and purposes—<di This te not lively though she was, ho coukl Serk mouth free in a second if he wanted. Cecil laughed, prudence was at no time > his virtue, and leant back contentedly, lo be driven at a slashing pace thro the balmy summer's night, while the ting of the hools rang merrily on the turf, and the boughs were tossed aside with a dewy fragrance, As they went, tho moonlight was shed about their bath “in the: ful of the young and-at-the-end- of nrietn of on @ grassy Knoll_were rome phantem > forms, the same graceful| shapes that stand’ out against the purple heather and the tawny gorse of Scottish moor- lands, while the lean rifle-tube cr up by stealth. In the clear there stood the deer, a dozen of them, a clan of » alone, nwith their an- Uers'clashing {ke the olash of, swords, conversation, but you will do me the) gnq waving jike ing banners 9s Sontice to eay that It was noi I who 40-| they tosmcd thelr heads and listened. iGdueed it. Ouly—one word for M4] In an instant the hunter pricked his my boy, understand this; if I could help|ears, snuffed the air twitched Jou; f would, cost what Ht magn ty Dut awh ty oe bapet: —at-tea bit: as matters stand—I cannot” another instant and he had. got. his “Why-rlook here. You eee I'm not|head, and, Inunching into a sweeping * of age; my signature is of no use; | gallop. rushed down the hey won't take it; else I could get| Cecil’ sp money In no time on what must come | rest and se! to me when father dies; though ‘tlsn’t | instant cut nough to make the usurers ‘melt’ at| strips, the risk. Now--now--look here, he sad, calmly,-put-under— can't see that there could be any harm |his breath. has been always rid- In 4t. You are sueh chums with Lord | den with the Buckhounds; he will mace the deer as sure as wo live!” Race the deer he did. Startled, and frean for thelr tavorite pig. ty wandering, the stags were of like the wind at the noise of and the horses tore after them} skill, no strength, no acieno aval! to pull’ them’ in; they ha: their bits between thelr tteth and t devil that was in Maraschino lent th contagion ‘of sympathy to the youn carriage mare, who d never gone a! Rockingham, and he's aa rich es all che usurers put togeth West could t be in it If you just asked him to here be in you J aiedrdecitiin lend you £300 for me? a minute, because he'd give his Head away to you—they all say so— and hed never miss tt. Now, Bertle—will your’ “Tt would be the trick of a swindler, and {t would be the shame of a gen- tlensan,” said Cecil, ‘That js answer he e rE het you will not do itt’ 7 have replied already,” such a paco since she had “You'are a brute to me," went on the} put in her break. lad, with his queriious and bitter pas-| “Tally-ho! hark forward! Ax 'T live sion rislng almost to tears lke a wom-|tt ts glorious! Cecil cried, half uncom an's, “You. pretend you can refuse me! sciously, nothing; and the moment I ask you the| ror the first time from the blanched © emalleat thing you turn round on me nd speak aa If I wore the greates; plackguard on earth.”” ‘ “Little one, you are jReated and don't Mps beside him a cry of terror “The rivet! oh, heaven!—the r There it lay in’ the distance, the deep and yellow water, cold In the moon's ‘but a aufl know what you say,” ho began very |S0y, "with its further bank gently & few moments later, as he) gray’ tine in the mists that rose trom ft, leaned ‘Yorward and looked straight in| anq its swamp a yawning grave, as tho he boy's eyes; ‘don't be down bout thin; you'll pull through, never fear, Llsten to me; go down to father and tell him all frankly, I know ther than yous he will be savage for a sec- ond, but ae would sell every stick and the land for your eako; he will Sea you eate through this, Only bear dno thing dn mind—tell pm all No halt horses, blind in their delirium, «and / racing against each other, bore down > through all obstacles toward its brink. Death was rarely ever closer; one score ra more, one plunge, one crash down ihe deciivity and againat the rails, wwell of the nolsome tide above ‘thelr heads, and Iife would bo closed ‘and at for both of mm. one reathiess moment his eyes met hers— Tin that-moment he loved her, in that moment thelr hearts beat with a truer, © res, “no confiden: , and ask his help. back without it” y fistened, his eyes shunning | fonder impulse to each other than they * ne htotier’a, the red color darker on] fan ever dons. Before the presence of his face, is a threatening doath’ Ie grows real “Do you hear me, will you go? Jove «rows precious, to the coldest and — “On my word. most careless. "The beaut give 1 them to m® (To Be Continyed) ~~?