THE DARE-DEVILS OF TODAY.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 16769, 19 June 1920, Page 5

THE DARE-DEVILS OF TODAY.

SPLENDID BRAVERY OF THE MARRIED man. (By W. B. Maxwell, the author of ‘'The Guarded Frame.'-J It is curioOs how one still meets traces ol the old superstition tliat bacnolors are a more icclaeso, splendid race than married men. Above alt uioro lingers that notion that your hardened baouelor snatches from a life a fearful joy because ol ins disregard of danger, ids dare-devil spirit. lie probably believes it himeell; ho certainly fosters tbo belief in o tu CIS. Act what can bo more absurd when he stands confessed as having shirked tho most reckless thing nowadays? .Ruckicsa forsooth 1 that a man cun. do —that is, getting married 1 Ho really is in the position of a person riding to hounds who has been observed by all the field to turn tail at a big fence, and who jogs aiong the lanes trying to persuade old Indies in motor cars and dappers in governess’ carts tuat lie is a tremendous man across country. Tho bravest words of a bachelor are; “Hang the expense!” But what a sorry figure lie cuts oven when tested by tho essential measure of to-day—tho money standard. Ho boasts grandly of having been to Paris for a lortnight. Tot so far as cost goes, this escapade is literally nothing wfion compared with tho performance of his quiet domestic friend in taking wife, children, nurso, and maybe motner-in-law, for tho summer holiday at Felixstowe. A ilca-bite, a drop in tho ocean. Tbo married man oniy wishes ho could get off as cheap. “I dropped twenty pounds at bridge last night,’’ says tho bachelor in tho train; and ho yawns magnificently—the yawn of a lion after a night spent in ferocious adventure. “Did you really?” says tho father of a largo family, looking iinprfessed, hypnotised by the force of the ancient tradition ; oblivious of tho fact that lie has dropped twice that sum this morning on tho way to tho station, when he told tho local builder to make a good job of the leaky roof at Laburnam House. And ho will never get his revenge. The local builder will go on playing with him year after year and always winning. • No, it is the married man who really “goes it,” doing things every day (and thinking nothing of them) that would frighten an ordinary bachelor out of his wits. See the gay and debonair celibate buying flowers for a pretty lady. “Those carnations are half a guinea,’ 1 says tho girl assistant, “and the roses are fifteen and six.” With such an air as would be smugly vain-glorious in the hero of a hundred ballads, he puts the roses into tho trembling hands of his f,air companion. “Oh, how can I thank you, Mr. Jones? You are too generous, too lavish.” And as ho goes away with her ho murmurs; “Not at all,” or perhaps even explains that this is his way—ho likes throwing money about. ONE TERRIFIC GAMBLE. Now consider the picture of the ordinary married man with his wife and children in one of tho big shops in the West End. They march him about from department to department. Unconsulted, almost forgotten, he hears scraps of portentous conversation and preserves his lofty composure. “Cheaper in the long run;” “False economy, madam;” “The better the material tho greater satisfaction it gives.” Then all at once the call sounds again. “Daphne, tell daddy I want him. . . . Oh, there you aro. Get out your cheque book, please.” Ho pays and looks pleasant. If ho hesitated a moment those dear ones would lose their happy trust in him ; they would think that ho had failed them; his glorious legend would bo gone. And observe that in his case, unliko that of the bachelor., the legend is a real live thing, based on facts. Once ho was a bachelor himself—with just enough for one. Then there came to him tho stupendous thought of making it enough for two, and as many more as Providence chose to bless 1 him with. By taking all risks, resorting to desperate measure in regard to toil, endurance, pushfulnosa, he must fill tho huge monetary deficit. And ho has done it. He has walked, with a cool head 1 and smiling face, on tho precipice of financial ruin; wliile the bachelor was making up his diary of petty cash and tamely guarding a competence iii tho shelter of colourless safety, Tire gambling spirit 1 If you judge it by that! Good gracious, the married man’s life is one terrific gamble. He is playing for the highest stakes all the time—for life or death, the happiness or misery of himself and everybody dependent on him. No, certainly not. The husbands and fathers are tho dare-devils of to-day.