How Pa Looked. (By Ella Costillo Bennett.)

Otago Witness, Issue 2695, 8 November 1905, Page 83

How Pa Looked. (By Ella Costillo Bennett.)

That many women have tried to cure their husbands of the drink habit and failed we know. That a few have succeeded — the proverbial exception, that proves the rule— we sometimes run across. The one ease_ in a hundred, perhaps ; and it may be of interest to the women who have husbands fond of the flowing bowl to know jusfc how some women did succeed. These I can, vouch for, as I had the stories from headquarters. The methods of procedure differed es much as the women probably differed in idea 3 and disposition, and tlJe circumstances of the cases; and their nethods were various, from mild strategy to the woman who applied Slolomon's wisdom i-i "Spare '.he rod and spoil the child," to tiie full-groAvn child in tho shape of rcr husban i.

One case was that of a man who vas a prosperous merchant and whose wife had at intervals during their married life tried various schemes, from threats to leave him to crying and pleading. Ho was rot an habitual drunkard, but a periodical "spreer." He would go for several months without drinking, only to suddenly loom oh the family well "bowl.^d over." lie could navigate home, but vith great difficulty, and various lurches to the side. He would not take a carriage home, for he was one of those drinkers who would not believe he was intoxicated, and was quite sure that he could walk a perfectly straight line. The next day he was willing to admit that he perhaps had "a glass too much," but would positively refuse to believe that he had been drunk, silly, maudlin drunk ; no, not he !

At the time thjs flashlight thought of a scheme to cure him dawned on his wife he was middle-aged and had a daughter almost a woman and a son of 15. These drinking spells were growing more frequent and ruining an otherwise good man. One particular evening he reached home at 5.50, just before dinner. He reeled into the room with a silly girn. His wife was furious and mortified before her children, but merely suggested that he should go to his room and she would bring up some dinner, if he wished it. But he couldn't see it that way; he wanted to te affable and preside at his own table, and he did.

Like an insph'ation came a plan to the wife. Motioning her boy to follow her, she went into the hall and unfolded to him her scheme — namely, to run to a neighbour, who was an amateur photographer, and have him come in through the kitchen, station himself in the butler's pantry, between kitchen and diniag room, and 1 secure as many photographs of pater familias as possible during the meal. Mamma went back to the table and joined the family. The son made some excuse, and kept himself in readiness io attend the photographer.

Papa insisted upon, carving the meat, splashed the sjvavy over the clean tablecloth, smiled like a circus performer after doing a difficult feat, and with thick

tongue, mumbled something about '-.accidents happening in the best-regulated families."

His daughter's eyes filled with tears, his wife's face beamed triumphantly — she only wished for one thing more ; that was that a phonograph could oatch that thick and silly speech as the camera caught the grinning face and the awkward movements. Mamma had, by a motion, secured silence and comprehension from the daughter; only the centre of attraction was ignorant of the trap set for him. Dinner was prolonged, so that the enthusiastic artist could secure many photographs. Dinrer over, the family had great difficulty in keeping good-natured, smiling papa, who wanted all the world to rejoice with him, from going out on the front verandah. He declared it was "so-s-lovely out" — it was Jimc — that it was a " s-s-shame to sh-shfcay indoors."

A few mornings later — on papa's birthday — when he sat down to breakfast, he, with great delight, opened a package at his plate. Each one ot the family had given him a hearty kiss and presents, but here was an additional one.

He opened it. He looked. His face grew red with anger, and for shame he c.:uld not raise his eyes. He took a few mouthfuls, drank his cup of coffee, and left. •

And all day long his wife had a dreadful foar of the storm that was coming. She dreaded the dinner tune, as the condemned man dreads the' executioner. . All day she was in a state of nervousness, bordering on hysteria. Would he ■ hate her for ever " arter? — would the good-natured husband storm and rage, or would he treat her with studied politeness and ever after would there be a "gulf between them"?

At 5 o'clock papa came home. Mamma was in the bedroom when he came up. She trembled. Her husband primped a while before the glass, and, turning to his wife, who sat like a culprit waiting for the verdict, said: "Did I look like those pictures?" Mamma faltered an affirmative reply, and wondered why -she couldn't be sarcastic, and why she felt to crushed.

"Of course, it is your work," he saidMamma turned, pale. "So I expect, you to see to it that the negatives are destroyed." He took the photographs^ from his coat pocket, and again looked at" each one, as though he still doubted the truth of them. There were £v& altogether, showing him in various stages of silliness. One when he was carving; one when he was> simply leaning back and smiling benignly on everyone ; one where he Leld his fork -T.loft — without anything on it — and was trying to balance it, preparatory to aiming it at his mouth; the last when re was leaning sideways and trying to drink coffee, while the liquid streamed in a rivulet down on his vest.

Papa tore those photos**in tiny bits, deposited the bits in the waste basket, and, turning to mamma, said: "Would jou mind getting new servants?" ' '

"Not if you think it advisable," said mamma.

Papa, on second thought, decided that perhaps it wasn't advisable.

That was four years ago, and the clerks at the store are still wondering what braced their "boss" up so suddenly. They speculated as io whether it was a temperance lecture, fear of the "D.T.'s." or if he could take the Keeley cure and still be at the store every day.

But the storm his wife dreaded never burst; papa's genial temper never forsook him. He merely refused ever to permit ihe amateur photographer to come ii to the house again.