The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1940-03-22

W old we pay the piper.
It's terrifying thing to think of,
but it's one of the unacceptable facts
of life. The cross you make for
yourself in youth you must carry
in old age, nobody else can carry it
for you, and there's no putting it
down.
That's why fathers and mothers
waste their breath advising and
warning. Don't drive so fast, dar-
ling. Don't start going with that
particular crowd, dear. Don't eat
too much. Don't drink too much.
Don't marry until you really love;
and when you do marry don't quar-
rel, don't waste money, don't fiirt,
don't be extravagant.
If this generation of children lis
tened, and profted by advice, and
if the next generation did the same,
and if the parents themselves were
wise good men and women who
hadn't made serious mistakes them
selves, what a world of high char
acter and nobility and happiness we
would have in a hundred years!
But alas, the parents are often as
busy making mistakes as the chill
dren are, and when one mistake is
superimposed upon another, and
half q dozen more are thrown in
from all sides, human lives get into
terrible tangles, and only superhu-
man powers can straighten them
out. Prayer will, humility and pa
tience and faith will, but who be-
lieves that in reference to the tire
some little tangles of every day?
We save our prayers for the great
crises of life, and even then usually
bestow them generously on someone
else. That Norma's baby will
come safely. That dear George will
get well. That Betty won't be so
impatient with Gerald. We rarely
pray that we ourselves will change,
because one of the first things a
baby learns, and one of the convic-
tions that sticks to him most firmly,
is that he is all but perfect.
If you've made a mistake and
you have to pay for it sometimes it
helps a lot to face the music hon.
estly and say, II was wrong. !
was young and ignorant and hot
headed and blind, and I made a
serious mistake. ALI right. That's
past. Now for the future, without
mistakesH
A Ridiculous Mistake.
In a letter that lies on my desk
a woman who calls herself MARY,
Paul's Wife," tells me of rather
ridiculous mistake she and her hus-
band made, and of the price they
have to pay for it.
They were married IL years ago,
and had two boys, now 10 and eight.
Six or seven years after marriage
hard times came; Paul lost his job;
his wife went to work, and domes-
tic trouble ensued. They were di-
vorced by her wish, although she
says when it came right down to
leaving Paul she cried for four days
and nights.
She married a man named Ben,
and Paul married a girl named
Maude. Ben died, and two years
ago Paups first wife met him again.
He is very prosperous now; he was
not happy with Maude, and he and
Mary very soon discovered that they
loved each other still. He needed
his boys, and the upshot of that ac-
cidental meeting was a second di-
vorce for Paul, and his remarriage
to Mary. They are now ideally hap
py, have a third small son only a
few months old, and would be one
of the worlds contented couples if
it were not that Paul has to pay
Maude 5000 a month. That eats into
Mary's very soul.
''Maude is well-fixed anyway"
she writes. "She has a car, beau
tiful apartment, and a maid. She
goes away summers, entertains,
dresses perfectly. We are paying
almost third of Paul's remaining
income for our home, have three
children, and only occasional help
with Homework. Is it fair that the
money that would give me a good
nurse and great comfort must 60 to