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Tender Skins Need
Soothing
Soaps < §^" —* —wj)£- _
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I Heiskell’s Medicinal Soap is blended of heal- ■■
I ing herbs and gums which check any tend- ■■
1 ency toward rash, eruptions or blotches. ■ ■
1 It keeps the pores open—the skin velvety. ■■
| HEISKELL’S ■
I Medicinal Toile? Soap H|l
■ is best of all for baby’s bath—or your own.
3 Heiskell’s Ointment removes blotches, ySaMB
1 redness and scaly eruptions. Relieves »
I eczema. Ask your druggist for Ileis-
I kell’s preparations.
1 JOHNSTON, HOLLOWAY -3. COMPANY, JgSJr
I S3l Commerce St., Philadelphia, Pa. Mr
HOW 1 INAUGURATED A REST
DAY.
It was not original. I saw it some
where —how a woman cheated herself
into taking a resting spell by stopping
the clock. I remembered the story
one day when I was utterly worn out.
For weeks I had been on a strain —
company and no servant. The guests
had now taken their departure, but
there was cleaning up to do and a
getting back into working order. I
kept up, all the while longing for a
clay of rest. At length I remembered
that sister of mine who stopped the
clock, which kept nagging at her, with
its merciless tick, tock, telling of
wasting work and the passing of val
uable time. Here is how she told her
story, and my experience tallies with
hers: You know it isn’t the work,
hardly ever, that hurts—it is the feel
ing of rush, the thought that a cer
tain number of things must be done in
or before a given time. So she made
up her mind that for one day in the
Aveek she wouldn’t be governed by
that clock. She would silence its im
pertinent reminder that s'mply for
bade rest. She carried out her plan.
In view of the rest day she prepared
for a simple dinner —cold meat and
potatoes that might be sliced and
■warmed, biscuit or bread with pre
serves, fruit and milk; then, for sup
per, an uncooked cereal, stewed fruit
and eggs.
I shut myself in an upper room
that day and gave the sewing machine
the go by. I got a few hours to read,
write letters and fold my hands, and
it helps me to work better all through
the rest of the day. One day I be
gan an interesting story, and having
no “tic-toc” to obey, I let the dinner
hour nearly go by. Then I started up
and hurried down stairs. I heard a
tittering, a whispering and a subdued
clatter of dishes, and when I entered
the kitchen I was greeted by smiles
and a triumphant “Dinner’s ready, and
we cooked it!” from the children.
They had put it on the table and
thought it was great fun to invite me
to it, as though I were a guest.
MARGARET VINCENT. '
Near Memphis, Tenn.
MU DA’S GARDEN AND FLOWER
YARD.
1 am glad to have you with us
again, “Magnolia,” and congratulate
you on your daughter’s success. No
one rejoices with those who rejoice
and Aveeps with those who weep like
our mater, and it is very natural to
■write ,to her. Yes, I remember you
■well. I think you Avere one of the
first Household writers, way back in
the 80’s, Avere you not?
I think it rather risky that “Elam”
and “Dr. Gem” went off on the comet.
For my own part, I enjoy looking at it
from my own planet too well to ven
ture off on it. This earth is good
enough for me as long as life lasts.
When death comes, I want to go to
the. best place, Avherever that is.
The snow didn’t ruin things at all.
The pole beans are bearing profusely;
cucumbers, etc., have also come, and
flowers are just lovely; sweet peas,
Brown-eyed Susies, roses and gladioli,
oleanders and sweet myrtle and other
favorites, while red birds, mocking
birds, thrushes and jays, wrens, spar
rows and ever so many more are giv
ing June a royal Avelcome.
School is out, and children pass,
going plum hunting to the old gully
hill, Avhere plums, blackberries and
wild grapes grow in profusion.
I gathered sage today. We can
make sausage all during the year with
a meat chopper, red pepper and sage
from our gardens, .and black pepper,
salt and fresh meat from market. Had
you ever thought that this palatable
food takes its name from sage, the
seasoning of which gives it its charac
teristic taste? Sausage without sage
and gingercake without ginger is
sometimes made, but you have only
meat croquettes and molasses cake.
Our Mater asked me if I saw what
happened on the predicted 18th con
cerning the comet. I rose at 2 o’clock
that morning and watched until 3, but
it was so cloudy I saw nothing. When
the rain began to pour I went to sleep
and resolved to lose no more sleep on
comets—that is, on Halley’s; but I
enjoy seeing it very much these pleas
ant, starlit evenings, and find it quite
interesting to hunt out again the con
stellations I loved so to study in for
mer years. The moon, too, has been
quite an interesting study, and several
evenings ago, as I watched it rise, I
heard the concert music at the clos
ing school exercises a quarter of a
mile aAvay.
This has been a year for sweet
peas. They are grown by our ladies
in great profusion. I planted mine
in January. The cold did not hurt
them at all, and they are beautiful
and of such variety of color.
MUDA HETMUR.
21 jF Ji -7—:-:- _____ =77—7-; /.z )
1 za BOSTON
Tf)®/ u Makes healthy,happy childrcn.lt is better _
flO) tor them than the heavier foods and costs
H i much less. It is delicious with fruit and will
I tUL a marki I w not curdle when served with milk and cream
I WRrw %II I 1 $0 In large families where desserts “count up”
v -- a ® Crystal Gelatine is as good as money in the ?-X <
f:. XF bank. Each package makes two full quarts of
\ delicious Jelly, solving the problem of a menu \\(
I JOfc at a small cost. Crystal makes the t greatest * \ •
I variety' of dainty' dishes deliglumg all
M I | who eat it from grandma to the baby. MLJSK
E j iii J. | I Askyour grocer to-day. for dealert name
| L| Crystal geSatine co.
"tQSSffll Ji 121A Beverly Sty^BOSTON,MASS.
IIHIIIWIIIImIIHIIIB , ■ ■
X'THE TlVVljrif
f BEST PAINT MBM'
■ TO USE ON SOUTHERN PINE gWBaMI
H Is ”Sphinx” Pure Mixed Paint. Not simply because it is
honestly made of the purest and best ingredients, but I Iy J
1 also because "Sphinx” Paint is made by a sped al form- |J f aIUMI
gßk ula particularly adapted for pine. This is the reason why
so many up-to-date architects and builders insist upon J
"Sphinx" Paint for all houses built of Southern Pine.
LOOK FOR THE WORDS ON EVERY CAN
This is your protection against deception. If your dealer can
not supply you write us for color card and prices.
Leland Moore Paint & oil Gompany,
CHARLESTON, S.C.
The Golden Age for June 16, 1910.
Then she had been dreaming —of
him. He smiled, Avanly and resumed
his cigar. Then he placed his hand
on the new, bronze urn and stood back
a foot or so, musing. He looked very
youthful, very handsome, in his black
suit, with the white, double-breasted
Avaistcoat. This waistcoat that had
done service in better days, was the
odd individual touch that he had given
to the conventional dress as he stud
ied the “personal appearance” part of
this important interview. He could
not be quite like others even in so
simple a matter as dress; and then
the memory of college ambitious and
aspirations clung about him tonight,
a sub-conscious determination from
his better self.
Tonight the game would be played
out. The drama, between the sunrise
and the sunset, the space in which
men slept, betAveen the sunset and the
sunrise, would be over for him. He
Avould step out into the warm, western
glow, and there would be no dawn.
Only the priests believed that —for
their bread.
But, Avhy did he delay his going?
Did he fear that endless, soundless,
midnight void—after the sunset? He
raised his shoulders, shrugging
thoughtfully. All men feared it —all
men denied that they feared it.
“Strange, is it not? that of the
myriads who
Before us pass’d the door of Darkness
through,
The Lady From Alabama
{Continued from Page Six)
Not one returns to tell us of the
Road,
Which to discover we must travel,
too.”
Then he heard Her voice. Like rich
music it swept aside the atoms of
darkness. He saw the stars sown
so thick in the warm, southern sky,
reel in a mad dance. He gripped the
urn, feverishly.
“I must have left my roses, in that
new bronze urn,” she said. She shrug
ged her pretty, bare shoulders, and
diamonds gleamed suddenly at her
white throat. She came opposite to
the urn, Avith slow, meditative steps,
and he thanked Providence that she
Avas alone.
The bronze urn grew colder to his
touch. The stars glimmered as so
many pitiless points of light.
Too startled for audible speech, she
looked up into his great, black eyes,
mutely. He returned the look, brave
ly.
A long silence settled between them.
Conventional greetings* seemed trite,
and old, and out of place. There was
anguish hidden deep in their two
hearts that made the tongue dumb.
“Proserpina,” he said, gently.
She tried to reply, put her hand
kerchief swiftly to her lips, and then
gathered the red roses from the new
bronze urn, with a sudden, passionate
sweep of her bare arm. It seemed to
her, that she must make some kind of
(Continued on Page 14.)
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