Pleasantville weekly press. (Pleasantville, N.J.) 1890-1911, 1911-01-21
Suspenders
Or, A Rainy Night in Pleasantville
BY George Stirling.


1t was Friday in Pleasantville. To be
more exact it was last Friday. and last
Friday, as you know, was the thirteenth
Horrible thought, isn't it.?
Well, in addition to being Friday the
$ Thirteenth, it was dismal, and gloomy
I'D rainy,-and worse. just the kind
:. ia day no man wants to pay a bill
i. also. the kind of day he wants to
I, eat someone. or something.
The trains We're, of course, running TO
Atlantic City, and on one of the mid
morning cars prominent Pleasantville
professional man took passage. He was
accompanied by two friends; one an
officeholder. The men matched" to de-
eide who'd pay the fares, then the pro-
fessional man said:
Pm going clear over to Lantic to buy
pair of suspendersr
And one of his Friends looked upod
him. and asked:
why! Don't they keep them in
Pleasantville 2"
no further into the relation of a private
and friendly confab on the public cars.
Rather let us think of the conditions
that lead up to such a conversation.
Have we ...in our midst" merchants who
deal in that very necessary, though us
ually carefully concealed article of per-
sonal adornment,-t suspender? De-
,cidedly Assuredly. Certainly!
Who are they? Where do they keep"
Do their ads. appear in the columns OF
The Pleasantville Press?
Let's stop right here and look carefully
among the Press advertisements for one
live wire in Pleasantville who tells the
kpeople he sells suspenders.- is
Ihe Press of Saturday, January l4th,
e're looking at. Do You find one? No?
Neither can anyone else. 1t doesn't APP
pear!
Do you wonder now that that Pleas
antville professional man went over to
Atlantic City to buy his pair of sus-
penders?
They have a habit of sliding off, in sum
mer, anyway.
1t is now one o'clock. Same day.
last Friday. The windows, (stamp and
delivery, at the Post Office are down,
and the young ladies are behind them,
working away, and laughing, and joking,
and getting a whole lot of fun out of
life: and Uncle Sans mailman is IN
there, and pretty soon people begin to
come in for their mail, and the mice
scamper off to their quiet, private homes,
until the letters shall be distributed.
And a poor scrawny, underfed chick
en,-a pullet,-comes waddling along the
wet sidewalk outside, and pecks dismal
ly at the P. o. door. But the Postmas
ter is down at the tonsorial parlor, and
the girls don't hear, and SO the sad-eyed
and disconsolate henlet turns dejectedly
upon her heels and HES herself off with
out her male (mail1. And another
young heart is broken, and another shriv
cling soul is being taught to consider
this hard, cruel, cold, damp, below-zero
world. And then the chicken starts that
famous business of crossing the road.
And does she cross dry -shod? Try it,
daintily- -shod lady, on a wet day, in
Pleasantville Where will you find a
crossing? Perhaps some progressive
merchant has laid down board or two,
taken from a packing box. Perhaps not.
Oh! You rainy day in Pleasantville!
But-you rainy night.
With all street lights out at mid
night like country village! And the
blackness of darkness that follows! And
the delightful opportunities for lifting"
lchickens it affords! And the cops and
clergymen all asleep
But it costs too much money to have
lights burn all night.
Couldn't Council make some arrange
ment whereby the moon would get full
oftener? or stay on the job more? or
something?
Oh! You rainy night in Pleasantville! !!
And the suspender business?