The enterprise-recorder. (Madison, Fla.) 1908-1933, 1908-11-19


Sometimes he takes another tack.
Say, how old are you getting TO
be nowadays, young fellow" he In
quires of you.
You tell him.
"Uh, huh" says he. well, you're
not exactly the kidlet that you used
to be, are you? Not the infant prod
ICY that you were ten or fifteen years
ago, huh? can see the gray boys
beginning to peek out Of your hair at
the sides and there's q crowsfoot or
two beginning to show up at the cor
ners of your eyes. And l understand
that you're living right up to every
cent you make. That's showing a fine
set OF brains for you, isn't 1t? Are
you aware of the fact that in these
days of competition a man has got to
get together at least the foundation
OF his little pile before he's forty-fye
or so or stand a hundred to one
chance of never getting anything at
all after he's reached that age? Hey?
Don't you know very well that man
gradually becomes less productive,
sort OF loses out, after he reaches the
age Of forty? That the demand now
adays in all lines of endeavor is for
the younger fellows? Well, them"
You tell him that you're not feel
ing decrepit at the age of thirty.
seven; that you expect to be swing
ing right along at the old game for
quite a spell yet, and so on. But nix.
He won't have it,
Il say" he declares oracularly,
that II you're ever going to have a
place to lay your head by the time
you're forty-Hve, you've got to begin
right now to tuck a hunk of your
earnings away, You ought, as a mat
ter Of fact, to've begun long ago.
And you can't save by INDUCING your
self in every blamed caprice and
whim that you happen to think Of.
You have got to make sacrifices If you
expect to save. You've got to grind.
You've got to put your nose down TO
it, You've got to be able TO say No,
no. You've got to be able to stand
by and see the other pinheads blow
ing in their money without expert
encing any temptation to go and do
likewise yourself, You're listening
to me, aren't you?"
OF course you are. You wouldn't
dare not to listen to him. But you
tell him that, really, you don't feel as
if you'd be any happier If you did
manage TO accumulate a few thou
sands OF dollars. You try to pass it
of by being a bit humorous.
What I'D be the good" you in
quire of him, "of my scrimping and
saving to get hold of a few thousand
dollars, and then to have a milk
wagon zephyr along and hit me on theu
wishbone and send me over to Oak
Hill, and all like that-what' I'D be
the good of my saving If that kind
Of thing were to come OFF,"
This makes him positively furious.
He says that that observation proves
that you are an utter fathead. He
has all the insurance figures on a
mans chances to live doped out and
at his fingers ends, and he tells you
that at your age, thirty-seven,s why,
you've got such and such a number
of chances out of such and such
number to go right on living until
you bury the last member Of this
years baby crop. He jumps upon
you for trying to fetch in that milk
wagon and tells you that the grave
defect Of your character is frivolous
ness, The very fact that youde be-
gin to talk about milk wagons and
wishbones and Oak Hills and things
when he was trying to lead you to
your duty-your duty to your family
as we'll as to yourself-why, that very
fact shows that the grave defect of
your character is frivolousness. 1t
sure is. He's sorry TO see it, too.
He's noticed it for years, but he
never wanted to say anything about
it to you.
Sad nuisance, this saving friend OF
yours. Sad, really. Because you
cant come right out and tell him to
take that noise away. He's always
a good, solid, well meaning sort Of
chap, you see, and you know very
we'll that he sincerely has your in
terest at heart. If you tell him to
forget that stuff and talk baseball,
he'll be offended. There's really
nothing that you can tell him thatu
stick, anyhow. The only thing you
can do is to keep right on apologizing
to him, year after year, dozens of
times each year, for spending your
own hard earned money the way you
feel like spending it.
1t sure is orful, Mildred, how many