The Savannah morning news., 1903-01-18

A short time ago I CHANGED upon
lamentable scene. Piercing screams is
suing from a pretty cottage near by.
ran in, thinking some one was on fire,
Some one was, though not with le-
climate flame, and he had seized and
threatened his wife until she had
shrieked' for very terror.
1 stayed there and talked with them
for over an hour. The gist of the
trouble was that the man drank and
the woman, worn and frenzied by
grief, scolded. On that particular
morning, in order to keep him from
the saloon, she had emptied his pock-
cts, and, in a rage about this. he had
attacked her. Both were educated peo-
pie, belonging to what is called the re-
spectacle class. Strange as it may
seem, they loved each other; had been
divorced and had remarked.
Their determinations were senseless
and disgusting. The mana strong
fellow, beside whom the wife was a slen-
der sapling-claimed he had been as
saulted.
Look at my hat madame, under
that buggy" he said to me, ''she
knocked it there"
Il see it," l responded, land you
want me to accept that as evidence
that your wife did the fighting. Very
we'll; but what are those side-combs
doing under the buggy? They look
to me as if you had borne hand in
the fray"
l never saw a man more nonplussed
and chagrined than he was as he
stared at the misplaced articles. 1
honestly believe that he had no idea
how they came there.
The truth of the matter was that
both had lost self-control and had
hardly known what was done, as is
apt to be the case with folk who let
the inward devil loose.
Now, see here" 1 said to this wom-
an, he standing by, you and 1 are
sisters, and l can say many things TO
you that both of us would resent if
they fell from masculine lips. You've
chosen the wrong method of reform
You can't build man up morally by
beggaring him."
GO on, madame" cried my male
auditor, II could listen all day."
You've got to empty his heart,
not his pockets, and empty it by put
ing in so much good that the bad will
be crowded out. Make this dear little
home so pleasant that he won't want
to go to the saloon"
Go on, madame; that's the talk for
her"
"A man." continued, lis like the
Irishman's pig" Here 1 waited for
applause. but hearing none l proceed
ed You know the story, perhaps
how his owner was leading him along
when a friend called out:
" Hello. Pat, an air We takin' yer
pig ter Dooblin?"
Whist said Pat softly, and then
added, Yes but he thinks 1 want
him ter go ter Cork"
Now, if you want to send a man to
the saloon. just take a stick and drive
him home. man is a contrary crea-
ture; he's a prodigious fool. too, on the
subject of ruling"
Here l paused again for the chorus
"A Daniel come to judgment" but
deadly silenced reigned. Evidently I
was less pleasing in my remarks than
l had been. But l went on.
He must, at least, fancy that he's
doing everything himself. If you want
to put bit in his mouth do it at night
when he's snoring; and if you want to
use whip, crack it from out the back
door. Don't let him, or the world,
hear it,
That's it, madame. you've got it
down fine" exclaimed my masculine
hearer, awakening from d seeming
lethargy.
AS l went my way that morning 1
unused much on the subject of men.
1t is a contest familiar to women
the country over-this that my neigh
Dor is waging. The saloon is the poor
mans club "Tis not whisky alone he
has there, but warmth and cheer, his
paper and social life of certain kind
The man who is higher up in the
financial, scale goes to his club, and
that means champagne, magazines and
social life of another kind. Not that l
would run the comparison into the
ground, and place the club on par
| with the saloon, but l do say that, to
my mind, both are inimical to domes-
tic life, and it behooves us women to
wage war against them. How? All
| there's the rub. How, indeed?
once asked an Irish woman this
| question and she said:
IF me Mike was ter live at Their sa-