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Newspaper Page Text
i yT-jgg .giyB-ij lljt jM'Mffwr ijN Ytapwgy
in it, except as -he gives iFto me.
i am not to be his partner in the
business of life I am only his wife.
Before my wedding I though that
Was enough, but I did not realize that
wives were not supposed to be hu
man beings in their husbands' eyes
(they were just women to be cared
(for in the same way any dependent
-Is cared for.
i I am afraid that woman has pro
gressed too "far to be perfectly happy
in "belonging" after all.
( To Be Continued Tomorrow.)
THE NEWSPAPER MAN
By Berton Braley.
He roasts corruption root and branch
And makes the wicked grafters
By magic of the printed page
He stirs the citizens to rage
Till they go sweeping through the
And turn the bosses upside, down,
He did it all with what he wrote,
But probably forgot to vote.
With burning words he fights with
Yet knows the Sinner for his kin,
Despite the evils that he scores
His heart is big as all outdoors;
He writes of wrongs both great and
Yet pities those who chance to fall,
There's good in all men, he'll admit,
But how he hates a hypocrite!
He's always in a bitter fight
To make the lot of men more light,
Decrease their hours, increase their
And change their lives from dull to
Meanwhile HE hasn't time to see
His friends or home or family,
He grinds and toils for little pelf
Some fourteen hours a day himself.
Of 74,000 locomotives inspected
st year by the interstate commerce
commission more than 48,000 were
A shriveled miserly-looking chap
gained my attention, don't you know,
on the financial bourse of a Yankee
city one day. The fellow's air of ill
concealed affluence prompted me to
inquire if he were really wealthy,
which elicited this astounding reply:
"Has he got the kale? Say, that
guy makes the U. S. mint look like a
coffee mill when it comes to turning'
out the stuff. He's nothing but spot
cash from his heels to his skyline.
Every time he- wheezes another buck'
clatters in the bin. He makes old
John D. try to hide behind-the stop
per of an oil can and all the Wall
street sharks dive into storm cellars
whenever he clinks around. Lemme
introduce you to Rolling Pin Pete,
the gink that rolls in the dough."
-o o i
"And what did you do when he
kissed you? Did you hand, him his
"Er no, .mama.. I hid it." Puck.