The evening world. Newspaper, August 19, 1919, Page 14

TUESDAY, AUGUST 19, 1919 Summer Girls of 1919 DIAGNOSED BY A DICKY-BOY’S DIARY Copyright, 1919, ty The Press Publishing Co, (The New York Evening World). hat Little Word “Obey” | In the Marriage Service— Does It Belong There? Omission From the Episcopal Ceremony Will Be , Recommended This Fall, According to Report. © Vilely Obedience Out of Fashion,” Writes a ; Modern Wife, and.“‘Standards for Being a Good Wife Are Now Higher”—and She Goes On to _ Prove Her Case. ‘ a By'a Modern Wife PUHAT the word “Obey” be omitted trom the marriage ceremony in the 1 ‘Book of Common Prayer is @ recommendation which will be offered ‘thia autumn at the meeting of the Episcopal General Convention, | ordiing to 4 recently published summary of the report of thé Commis a ‘How War Took Away One Husband, ARRAY perp Then Gave Mme. Pujet Another A\ THREE-PART ROMANCE BETTER THAN FICTION OR MOVIES. PART I. PART I. PART Ill. Mme. Andre Pujet gets message Mme. Pujet returns from front. Wounded officer proves to be from French soldier husband and Two weeks later her husband Lieut. Frederick G. Singer, New Starts. for front to meet him. Mis is killed. She becomes a nurse in a York millionaire, with decorations sion — dangers and difficulties, hospital close to British lines, Dis- and gallant war record. They fall but is finally accomplished through covers her patient to be officer who in love and she finally promises to aid of gallant young officer in British had aided her romantic quest. Her marry him when peace comes. Now uniform. chance to repay. peace is signed and they are married. Cb e v8 7 ig in deference to protests that have been gathering strength for / # sng years,” it ts said. As a modern wife, I must believe the protests are »velled by one every time a woman ‘ins Vietorian verb. ot sorta A Oneeat pe see eeeed st Ie is an amusing survival tn this Jand of woman-ruled homes. Whi formic dn ti! tessa da nein } «in ca, _ somany anywhere, does ob¢y her hus- «md? ‘What woman SHOULD obey ‘er husband? And what husband atts a woman to obey him? Yet the «if promise lingers in the marriage ili itt Ti ehforced by harem eunuchs or the husband's complete control of the pocketbook, or the good oli English Ipgal permiasion to beat his wife if the Puser a stick were no thicker than his thumb. | Resistance to tyrants is heaven's first law—domestic tyrants included. Byron could immortalize the story af the wo- man Who fied from the harem. Barrie could write @ little dramatic master- piece about the penniless wife who re- belled as soon as she had acquired the twelve-pound look. But it te hard to find anything fo- rom, Nevertheless, if the conservatives want to cling to the mystic phrase, why not let them transi it from the halt decades—tt mappeey. ip going to obey an: ere is & naturel suupalsaivences about the modern husband. I never have heard the meekest, most down- trodden wife boast of her supineness. aman aver, with positively jopuiey * iy r content, that uke wile runs the hous,” or ' wife says goes.’ Not only ts this ¢; husband—he bugs ohains, rhape there ought to be formal recognition, in the marriage service, of this new docility in man, jt sare. ought to be el! wife’ vow of ored in the breach than in the ob- servance,” Why not make our weddings really up to date, and let “this man" promise to “love, honor BBY?” _ Human Skyscraper From Texas Seven Feet Six Inches High MM. E. Madson of Baurds. He is the tallest man who evar has called at the White House. He comes of a ~ftamily of six foot- as|A By Marguerite Mooers Marshall. Copyright, 1919, by The Press Publishing Co. (The New York Evening World). STORY of romance, of dangers, of & woman's desperate cour- age und love-inspired subtle- ty; @ drama of real life which Mars tried his hardest tc make a tragedy, only to ‘be conquered at the last by Cupid and his ar- rowe—that is the remarkable true tale of a young American millionaire and hero, @ gal- lunt French soldier and a man of let- ters, a beautiful French writer, lec- turer, ambulance driver and war nurse, to which the cables have writ- ten a happy ending in announcing the marriage in Paris of Mme. Si- mone Pujet, widow of Andre Pujet, to Frederick G, Binger of New York. ‘The war which took away one hus- band from Mme, Pujet-Singer has nuw evened up by giving her an- other, And young Mr. Singer, by all the laws of chivalry, has earned the love of @he most beautiful, talented and charming young Frenchwoman I have ever met. For it was he who helped her to slip disguised through tho trenches, in the spring of 1915, to visit under fire her first husband at the risk of his life and hot own; to bring him Uttle gifts and the great gift of her lovely and loving self—a short two weeks before a German bayonet ended his life and their life together, I know it sounds like somebody's thrilling and picturesque novel. But most of the story Mme. Pujet herself told me when she visited America tn the winter of 1917, She is beautiful as the heroine of any novel, by the way, with the pure, delicate oval of her ‘face framed in silky brown hair and illumined with glowing brown eyes. She /and Andre Pujet were prom!- nent figures in France's younger literary set before the war, She wrote novels, her husband was the author of poems and essays, They travelled widely in the Orient, where, Mme. Pujet masqueraded as a boy.’ But like the other gallant young folk of France they put everything aside for their country. Andre Pujet would not oven wait for a commission, al- though, being the son of a former president of the French Tribunal, he could have obtained one readily, He enlisted as a poilu, and his wife volunteered to drive an ambulance. This is the story, as she told it to me, of how for love of her hus- band she disobeyed all the man- made laws of war and risked death repeatedly, both from the Allies as & spy and from the German cannon- ade. “I was in Paris resting, after driv- ing an ambulance for months,” she said, “when I received a mysterious letter from a Belgian peasant, af- fectionately urging me to leave my service at once and return home If| I wished to see my grandfather be- tore he died. “At once I realized {t was my hus- band's ruse to cnable me to get within the lines, posing as a Belgian servant girl returning to her own country. ant to write, the letter, and must be hear the man's home. he was wounded in the head, but that they did not consider it serious enough to send him back to a hos- pital, I could not go to him openly as his wife, for several spy scandals had caused the generals to issue orders that a soldier's wife found within the lines would meat the fate of @ spy and that her husband also would be punished “At once I started. 1 reached Hazebrouck and found the English in possession, and there, despite my explanation that I was a Belgian girl going to visit my dying grand- father, I was refused passage through the lines, “I was frantic, Then I saw in the street an officer in the English unt- form whom my husband and I had met in India, I recalled myself to him, told him my story and insisted that I must get to my husband, He knew all about me, and that I was a perfectly safe person, So he told me, ‘You can go, but you must go in khaki,” He had induced the peas-| I knew that! i LT. PREDERICK G. SINGER MME PUJET MURSES LT. SINGER AFTER HER HUSTANO'S| DEATH ‘ta Hea gave me the uniform of a Tommyr and said that he was sending a com- pany inside the lines that night with more guns, and that I could march with it, And I did. There were many wagons full of guns, and the company did not march in regular formation, I curled up in the atraw in one of the wagons © good part of the time, keeping out of the light as much as possible, “Near and loud 1 heard the ene- my'’s cannonade, yery time the guns roared I put my head down, ‘way’ down, between my shoulders and shivered and said to myself, |sNow, this time 1 am going to be | nit Ob, it is an awful feeling! | “I nad clipped my hair and I wore |a cap. My friend had told one under- officer in the company who I really was, He kept an eye on me and let |me know when we had reached the |iittle train across the Belgian fron- | tler where I could take a munitions train the rest of the way. 1 slipped | off the wagon with my two baskets one containing pretty clothes few my- self and one sweets for my husband— and with Peluche, my Uttle dos, whom I had brought with me because I thought ho would make me seem more innocent if I were discovered. .I'left my khaki suit in the gun wagon, cbanging in the darkness to the Bel- gian peasant costume.” \ After leaving the munitions train Mme. Pujet walked for five hours in mud up to her knees, Then she hid in the harn of the peasant who had sent her the bogus message, while a little boy brought news of her arrival to her husband in his rest trench, @ mile off, For ten days she stayed in the barn, sleeping on a straw mat- tress on the floor, living on coffee and milk and such bits of food as her husband could bring her—living for the hours he could spend with her, not every day, but at such times as she could bribe or persuade a com- “% am willing, I answered. He} rage to answer for him at roll call. Mme. PUJET FinacLy MEETS HER HUSBAND ba ot PUJET IS KILLED , a = — = y Z MMe. PUJET MARRIES SINGER, eae sy | The sound of the enemy's guns never ceased, and one shell struck the farm- house attached t> the barn in which she stayed. Then her husband went back to the firing line, and she returned to Paris, being arrested at the frontier but released at the request of her father-in-law. She was ill for three months afterwards. Fifteen days after her ceparture her hus- band was killed in a bayonet charge. After that, she went as nurse to Cote d'Azure, a hospital close to the British Mnes, And who should be her patient but that same, chival- cere officer who had helped her ro- mantic quest And-—it all came out when her engagement was announced in Pasadena, Cal. a little over a year ago—he wus no other than Lieut, Frederick Singer, son and grandson of the famous heads of the Singer | Sewing Machine Co. with a most \gallant war record. He has been cited jfor bravery several times, and has been awarded the French War Cross and the British Distinguished Se:- vice Cross. She said she would marry him when peace came. And she has kept her word. Let us hope her second marriage for love will equal the first in devotion and intensity and escape entirely the shadow of tragedy. ’ No. 9—The Dancing Girl. HE Dancing Girl! Sweet Terpsichore, how I admire her. Yea, to be sure, I found her at the Inn, when I arrived. I lost year’s growth striving for an introduction Yea, there were many dancing girls at the Inn. But not one like her. She was lithe of liinb, light of foot and sweet to look upon. Dark eyes, long lashes that drooped tantalizingly when pretty things were whispered in her eqr. Raven hair that was marcelled—whether the air was damp or crisp. Her white satin frock, with dainty daisies embroidered o’er ite scanty surface, was broken in its white simplicity by a cerise girdle. And her name was Kathryn, and she was well versed concerning the first parade of the Orangemen, and she could name the exact date of the Big Wind in Ireland. Kathryn was wise to all the dances of the country. The Broad- way Rozzle-Dazzle was a fitting contrast to the cultured Tremont Stret Tussle. The Market Street Mix-up vied for favor with the Pennsylvania Avenue Razz-ma-tazz. Kathryn could dance them all. ‘The first evening went like wild-fire. Gliding about the Inn veranda, with potted things looking on, I learned to like the Irish colleen— and the summer is yet young. ‘As I Was Saying’’-- By Neal R. O'Hara : Copyright, 1919, by The Pres Publishing Co, (The New York Evening World), HITE duck suits of the W naval officers make ‘em look like bakers’ boys. Army fellers don't look that way, but they ARE Baker's boys. What good is a trip to France? Returning doughboy saw “Ici on parle Francais” on a soda foun- tain window. Went in and said, “Gimme some of that icy stuff.” Soldiers learned more French listening to the Broadway war songs than talking to the Gallic peasantry. Saddest case we've heard of is the chap that came back and thought all the while that “aimer” meant to aim his rifle. After months of saluting, ex- doughboys forget how to tip their hats. Rest of us wish we could forget how to tip the hat boys. Doughboy that gets our sym~ pathy is the guy that came back to his girl and his job and found somebody else had got ‘em both. Says a good job is hard to find. Made no comment about a good girl. War brides on the stock mar- T is cheaper to satisfy than to | pacify. Dissatished customers mean less customers, dwin- dling profits, lower salaries and eventually no jobs, Whether head of the firm or tail of the firm the most important plank to stand by is SATISFACTION—if you hope for much measure of suc cers, A nervous old lady walked up to the clerk in a well-known hotel and asked for a mouse trap, saying she was sure there was a mouse in her room. “Madam,” replied the clerk, “this house is perfectly new; it is fireproof; there has never been @ mouse or any other such ani- mal in it.” “Bir,” flared the old lady, “¥ TWO MINUTES OF OPTIMISM By Herman J. Stich Copyright, 1919, by The Press Publishing Co. The Lady and the Mouse. (The New York Evening World), tell you there is a mouse in my room and I want a mouse trap.” The discussion was becoming slightly acrimonious when the proprietor suddenly happened into earshot, and walked up, to the old lady. “Madam,” he said, “you shall have a mouse trap in ten min- utes.” “You blankety - blank - blank- blanked fool,” he burst out at the clerk after the satisfied guest, had departed. “If any guest of this house asks for anything GIVE IT! GET IT! DO IT! AND DO IT RIGHT AWAY AND WITHOUT A WORD! Hustle now and bring her that mouse trap, and if the old lady a mouse, get her a mouse too! See that she is SATISFIED!" ket have gone to the bottom. But the other kind are arriving safely on every boat from France. French war brides we've seen look very chic French for “chicken,” Report says 1919 will have a bumper crop of babies. More than one born every minute. This'll please the fake all com- panies. Ten-cent carfares all over Bos- ton. Company can’t operate for less—streets too crooked. Brooklyn threatened with 2 cent transfers. Something's crooked there too. From the howl we hear, 2- cent transfers are going to be es popular as 2 per cent. beer. 4s one Brooklyn sharper put it, “"Tain't fair, Transfers used to be free. Now they're going to cost twice as much.” Broadway film shows kissing is dangerous. But it’s sti) our idea of a pleasant death. Kissing’s O. K. if you know how. All you need is piactica, Film states those that don't know kissing is dangerous are still in the dark. Correct. Don't tare what they say, Post Office is still a good game. Expect an Anti-Klssing League next. Then the 2.75 kiss—no kick to it, Anti-Kissing guys will also go after moonshine. Only dangerous kiss is the vamp’s. Victim's cue is, “Kiss me, fool”—and he's fool enough te do it. Great line Kipling wrote— “Even as you and I.” Nothing even about it—all in the vamp’s favor. Original rag-and-a-bone-and-a- hank-o'-hair was Cleopatra, Ex- cept that Cleo had a jazz band instead of a rag, according to the song writers. Big boom in the ivory market. Philadelphia franchise ought te be worth something. Famous Broadway saloon turned into a shirt shop. Sti! serving stuff with a collar on @