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THE HEART OF A WOMAN!
In the "Confessions of a Wife' a , ing life squarely in the face and
real woman is going'to, for the first
time, disclose with absolute truthful
ness, the long unlit galleries of a
wife's emotion, hung with its' secret
joys, sorrows and memories!
"The Confessions of a Wife," the
opening chapter of which will appear
in this paper Monday, are real con
fessions. They are confessions which
They are nof the usual "confes
sions" which are written for commer
cial purposes simply to cater to a
craving for something "intimate."
They are, instead', the GENUINE
heartaches and heart-joys set down,
day after day, month after month,
year after year, by a REAL WOMAN
in her own diary from the night be
fore her wedding until now.
No one can doubt their truth after
reading them. We ourselves were
skeptical, when first this brilliant wo
man offered us her journal to publish,
that they were a "fake," but the
reading of them convinced us. Then
we asked her why she sought a print
ing for them.
"To let the girls know what mar
riage REALLY is, once and for all!"
"There is a free masonry of silence
which prevails regarding life and I
want to puncture it with my pen! I
want to let the light in!
"Not that there are thrilling reve
lations to make but there is a need
to tell the world that marriage and
romance are different institutions.
And I can prove it by showing liow I
found it out or by letting my diary
expose that painful, tearful, ridicu
Not lhat "Margaret Hastings"
blames anyone else for her mistakes.
She is too big, too fine, too truthful
for that! She shoulders the blame
that should be hers, but she distrib
utes upon others their just apportion
ment She ias.had a way always of look-
then asking it pointed questions!
Life has given her the answers!
You will find these set down so
honestly and candidly in "The Con
fessions" that you will thrill with
the power of their truth.
IN MONDAY'S DAY BOOI
"The Confessions of a Wife!"
The love-history of the human
By Berton Braley.
It may be, as the experts claim,
That we need little food to eat;
It may be true that it's a shame
To fin up full of bread and meat!
Perhaps a grain or two of wheat,
A spoon or two of raisins, dried,
Will make a ration rather neat.
But I like BULK in my inside!
I doubtless could sustain my frame
Without much vittles, sour or
Perhaps I gorge but just the same,
When I at dinner take my seat,
My appetite I hate t& cheat;
My hunger will not be denied;
Perhaps my blood 'twill overheat,
But I like BULK in my inside!
I know they say that food's to blame
For half the ills the doctors treat,
And that all cooks whate'er their
Should be escorted to the street
Well, let the health food experts
,1 still enjoy potatoes, fried,
Ana steak, with mushrooms, all
For I like BULK in my inside.
Cook, here's the phrase that I repeat
And let who will my wqrds deride,
Some folks may thrive on meals pe
tite, But I like BULK in my inside!
In Russia no photographer may
practice his ai$ without a license.