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LADIES,
TELL YOU
HOW TO EARN// |3»\
$25 PER WEEKH & lg!
Young lady, middle aged
matron or grandmother,
you can earn from sls per
week to $3,000 per year. I need
representatives in the villages,
towns and cities of America. The women of
America will eagerly buy the famous LE SAVOS
preparations that have made the women of
France beautiful through centuries. They can ob
tain them only from you if you are my representative.
If You Earn Less Than $25.00
per week, write me to-day.
Enclose 10 cents in stamps or coin, and I will
send you full particulars, a FREE copy of my
beauty book, the French Doctrine of Beauty,”
and a generous sample of either of two of my
beauty preparations, Le Savos Superfluous Hair
Remover,” or the famous Le Savos Face Cream.”
State which sample you prefer, or send 20 cents
for sample of each. Write to-day—to-morrow
you may forget it. Write me personally.
Mme. Le Savos, Mgr.
Il la Le Savos Company
37 8. Division St.
trade mark GRAND RAPIDS, MICH,
ON THE DOCK AT SHELL ISLAND.
The white gulls gather and part
Circle and settle and scream,
The white-sailed boats are afloat
In the sun’s gay morning beam,
Theg reen waves lift and break
With a sweep and a surge sublime
Round this fairy isle of the sea
In Florida’s magic clime.
Oh waves, could my soul translate
Your sad and sweet refrain
Then the haunting mystery
Os old ocean would be plain.
»
But life’s mystery is deeper still
It’s tide bears us ever on
Past the morn and the noon to the
night
Brooding dim o’er a short unknown.
—APHRODITE.
Ocala, Florida.
SHELL ISLAND.
Far down in the Gulf of Mexico,
hidden away from the beaten tracks
of travel, lies Shell Island.
Crystal River, a town on the gulf
coast of Florida, is on the A. C. L.
railroad, and is also located by an im
mense spring, a spring of boiling
wells, from which flows Crystal river,
ten miles in length, emptying into the
Gulf of Mexico. The scenery along
the river bank is rich and beautiful.
Palms and moss-draped cypress wave
above you as you glide down
the silvery river that gives
glimpses of thousands and thou
sands of the finny tribe. On the
right bank, in the trip to the gulf,
about four miles from the head of the
river, are three large Indian mounds.
I should have said two. They are
government property, and a short
time ago the government sent survey
ors and expert men to investigate the
mounds. One of the mounds was dug
down, and a fisherman, who has spent
much of his life there, told me that
the men would not permit any one to
know what was found in it. The oth
er mounds still stand. About one
mile from the mound the bank is
solid rock for a short distance, and is
known as “The Rock,” and is half
way to the gulf. As you glide along,
it seems, in another world, shad
ows lengthen, and at last the river
banks dwindle away behind you into
thin, bluish lines, the sky and water
take a more luminous color and the
sweeping Crystal river mingles with
waters of blue; the gulf wind bursts
upon you, keen, cool and full of life.
A few miles’ run brings you into the
broad, turbulent gulf and to Shell Isl
and the beautiful. A summer day on
this island has a charm impossible to
express, never to be forgotten. There
is a tenderness in tint, a richness in
color in the splendor of these gulf
days rarely seen. The island seems
but an undulation of the gulf’s bed —
never a glimpse of rock on its low
shores, only long, sloping beaches of
shell and bars of sand. Sand and sea
teaming with vitality, myriads of fish
and crabs in the saw grass and green
sedge. Along the shore there is a
perpetual rustling as of a strong wind
blowing reeds; a marvellous creeping
of “fiddlers,” which the inexperienced
visitor might mistake for so many pe
culiar beetles, as they run sideways,
each with his huge single claw folded
upon his bony body like a wing case.
The formation, or, rather, the up
rising from the gulf, of Shell Island
and other gulf islands is, I believe,
due to the mysterious submarine oil
wells, the volcanic fountains unex
plored that well up with the eternal
pulsing of the gulf stream. It has
much that would interest the geolo
gist.
It is a strange, indescribable feel
ing to be in the midst of the dark,
rolling waves, on just a little mound
of shells, and even during deepest
sleep of waves and winds there will
come to one a feeling of lonesomeness
that is fear; a feeling of isolation
from mankind, from the outer world,
totally unlike the sense of solitude
that comes to one in the silence of
the mountains or lofty granite coast;
a sense of helplessness, of insecurity.
There is no telegraph, no tele
phone; the only trustworthy medium
of communication with the outer
world bringing friends, news, letters,
is the launch “Dixie,” which makes a
trip from the island to the head of
the river and returns at dusk each
day.
There are some confused stories
about this island having been the
home of daring Spanish pirates, and
whose treasures are still buried there.
On warm summer days the shade is
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The Golden Age for April 21, 1910.
full of thin, sweet odors; tne place
has a tropical charm, a drowsy peace.
Shell Island is the prettiest of all the
gulf islands, and its loveliness is ex
ceptional.
APHRODITE.
AN EVERYDAY DRAMA.
Here is a bit of human comedy that
I saw from my window not long ago;
so trite, perhaps, you will not deem it
worth the telling:
Across the street from us, when
we first came to live here, there
dwelt, in a neat cottage, a little wo
man with two children, a boy and a
girl. She naturally challenged my
notice by two things, her passion for
cleanliness and her love for her chil
dren.
These are common enough quali
ties, you will say, and so they are, in
a common sense. But the Little Wo
man possessed them in an uncommon
sense. She embodied, as I may say,
the very Spirit of Cleanliness, which
shone through her plain, patient and
devoted little person like a light
through a vase.
Her love for her children was a still
more wonderful thing. She fairly
lived in them, and with difficulty suf
fered them to be absent from her dur
ing school hours. But her ambition
for them was part of her mighty love,
and so she shared eagerly in their
tasks, working with them (as I could
see every evening) over the school
books. It was no wonder that they
stood at the head of their classes
and that the boy was advanced sev
eral grades beyond most youngsters
of his age. And as they excelled in
their studies, so in their manners and
neatness of appearance, there were
few children to rival them. The Lit-
tle Woman, poor though she was,
found in her great love means to
dress her children as she wished them
to be. The story of self-denying sac
rifices she constantly made for them
and which all her care and pride
could not wholly keep from our
knowledge, is one only for the angels,
and I shall not attempt to tell it.
The Little Woman’s husband was a
very big man, who had some sort of
traveling job which let him come
home very seldom. Even then he
stayed only a few hours, often but an
hour or so, and only once in several
months did he remain over night.
The times were bad, and I suspect
that he did not send her much money.
But she was of those who can suffer
and be silent. Once, indeed, :n a rare
outburst of feeling, she said to me:
“I would die of want in this house,
and nobody would be the wiser.”
She never complained of the long
absence of her big man, whom she
seemed to love as absolutely and un
selfishly as she loved her children. A
gossipy neighbor, having offered a re
mark about the free habits of travel
ing men, she simply said, “What I
don’t know will never trouble me.”
When her husband came home on one
of his flying visits she was feverishly
happy. If he were only to stay an
hour she put the house en fete for
him, the children wearing their Sun
day clothes, and she in her neatest
and best. They had been married a
dozen years or more, but she was a
woman of that rare type in whose
heart love keeps an unfading honey
moon.
O poor faithful heart! your silent
sacrifice, your unstinted devotion,
your loving martyrdom, your patient
(Continued on Page 16.)
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