THE DARE-DEVILS OF TODAY.

Otaki Mail, Volume XXVIII, 23 August 1920, Page 4

THE DARE-DEVILS OF TODAY.

SPLENDID BRAVERY OP THE MARRIED MAN. (By W. B. Maxwell, the author of j “The Guarded Flame. ”) It is curious how one still meets traces of the old superstitiou that bachelors are a more reckless, splendid race than married men. Above all there lingers that notion that your hardened bachelor snatenes from life a fearful joy because of his disregard of danger, his dare-devil spirit. He probably believes it himself; he certainly foster# the belief in others.

Yet what can be more absurd worn he stands confessed as having shirked the most reckless, thing nowadays.' Reckless, forsooth! that a man can do —that is, getting married! 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 along the lanes trying to persuade old ladies in motor cars and flappers in governess' carts that he is a tremendous man across country.

The bravest words of a bachelor are: “Hang the expense!’’ But what a sorry figure lie cuts even when tested i,v the essential measure of to-day— I the money standard. I He boasts grandly of having been to j Paris for a fortnight. Yef so far as cost goes, Hi is Parisian escapade is literally nothing when compared with the performance of his .quiet domestic friend in taking a wife, children, nurse, ami maybe mother-in-law. 1 " the summer holiday at Felixstowe. [1,.,, bin,, a drop in the ocean. The married man only wishes he could get O IV as cheap. “ I dropped twenty pounds at bridge la-i night. ’ ’ says the bachelor in the i rain; and lie yawns magnificently— Ihe yawn Itf a lion after a night spoil in ferocious adventure. • •Did von really.”’ says the father „r a large family, looking impressed, hypnotised by the force of the am-ieiil tradition: oblivious of the fact that he has dropped in ice lliat'sum this morning on the way to the station, when he told the local builder to make a good job of the leaky roof at Laburnum House. And lie will never get his revenge. The local builder will go on playing with him year after year and always winning. No, it is the manied 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 llowers for a pretty lady. “Those carnations are half a guinea,” says the girl assistant, “and the roses are fifteen ami six.” With such an air as would be smugly vain-glorious in the hero of a hundred ballads, lie puts the roses into the trembling hands of his fair companion. “Oh, how can 1 thank you. Al r -bjnes.’ You arc too gonvoiis. too lavish.” And ns lie goes away with her he murmurs: “Not at all.” or perhaps even explains that this is iiis way—he likes throwing money about. One Terrific Gamble. Now consider the picture of the ordinary married man with his wile and children in one of the big shops in the West J-lnil. They march him about from department to department. Fnconsulted. almost forgotten, he hears scraps of portentous conversation mill preserves his lofty composure. “Cheaper in the long run”; “False economy, madam;” “ Ihe better the material the greater satisfaction it 5 gives.” Then till at once the call sounds again. “Daphne, tell daddy J w ant him. . . . Oh. there you tire. Get out your cheque book, please.” He pays and looks pleasant. It he hesitated a moment those dear ones would lose their happy trust in him; they would think that he had failed them; his glorious legend would be gone. And observe that in.- his ease, unlike that of the bachelor, the legend is a real live thing, based on facts. Once he was a bachelor himself- —with just enough for one. Then there came to him the stupendous thought of making it enough for two. and as many more a- Providence chose to bless hint with. By taking all risks, resorting to desperate measure in regard to toil, endurance. push fulness he must till the huge monetary deficit. And he has done it. He has walked, with a cool head and smiling face, on the precipice of financial ruin; while the bachelor was making up his diary or petty cash and tamely guarding a competence in the shelter of colourless safety. The gambling spirit! If you judge it bv 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 every* hodv dependent on him. No, certainly not.’ The husbands ami fathers are the dare-devils of - to-day.