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In Her Moment of Weakness. By CECILY ALLEN. Copyrighted, 10OS. by Associated Literary Press. Khe bad always been distressingly capable and eoni|>etent. “1 don’t believe Beatrice ever had a headache or a nervous spell like you girls have,” Henry Dalton had remark ed one day to his two sisters, absorbed by bonbons and new novels and wrap ped In Indifference and silk negligees. And the tone in which he spoke was not entirely complimentary. In fact, n distinct note of personal Injury rang through it, for bow can a man assume an attitude of protective chivalry to ward a girl entirely capable of doing for herself? Beatrice never dropped her fan or her handkerchief, nor came into the drawing room with her glove unbut toned, nor gave opportunity for the lit tle services which other women seem ed to have demanded of Henry Dalton since be had risen to the dignity of kniekerlKxkers. Yet withal Beatrice Craig was noth ing If not feminine. Site wore the softest and most clinging of fabrics. Hhe played golf, hut did not court bare arms and tan. She wore tailored suits, but she softened them with delicious froufrou bows of lace at her throat. Khe was rutfly and fluffy, but she never tore her ruffles and then asked for a pin to make repairs. And if all these things site was be fore her father's failure and death site was doubly inaccessible and impregna ble after reverses overtook her. Be fore that she had simply fenced with Dalton. Now site donned an armor that seemed wyll nigh invulnerable. Directly the estate was settled up and the smallness of their inheritance was made known to her Beatrice Craig had turned breadwinner, investing (lie pitiful little heritage in a smart shop where layettes of the most superlative fineness and beauty were sold. In the front room, with its exquisite fittings and scented presses, she exhib ited wares selected to suit the matrons among whom she laid grown from girl hood to womanhood. In the rear room she gathered the most expert needle women her purse could command, and till work was done under her direct su- pen Ision. Her delighted i-iientele said that lic*r euctesß was founded on this personal oversight. Her doctor said that nerv ous prostration would Inevitably result from her persistent close confinement to business. Her mother wept in sheer loneliness nt first and later drifted from their tiny apartment lack into the old bridge playing, novel reading circle of gray haired friends. And what Henry Dalton said is not for repetition here, for, having no nieces or nephews, how could he offer a de cent excuse for haunting a layette shop? And only at her shop was Bea trice to,be found save the cruelly few hours when outrag'd nature demanded rest and refreshment And now today, with Henry Dalton thrust into the dim background of the life when her u in k things lovely for her well shod walk upon, she was standing before her chevul mirror preparing for a return just a brief return glimpse— to the old life. Her mother had wept to some pur pose. The doctor had said certain sharp things that were more effective than maternal tears, ami so Beatrice had accepted the Do Haven Smiths’ warm invitation to spend the weekend and perhaps a few days more at tHeir lodge iu the Catskills. Beatrice surveyed with critical eye her smartly tailored traveling suit and then cast a smiling glance at the suit ease where rested a delightful matinee, product of her own workroom. It would be good to lie abed mornings and drink her chocolate in a love of a matinee like that. And she should read a couple of new books and wear the white cre|>e de chine, newly made over lor.the trip, to dinner. Old times —yes. she was strong enough now to stand an occasional dip back into old times. “Beatrice, here’s a C. O. D. parcel from Mason’s. 1 picked up a love of a waist for $13.75. Have you any mon ey ?” Beatrice readjusted her veil to a more fetching angle and murmured as well as the pins in her mouth would permit: “Yes, mother, there’s a roll of bills in my bag. the large pocket Take what you think will last you until I come back.” An Lour later Beatrice leaned back luxuriously in the parlor car. her un seeing eyes fixed on the Hudson pano rama It was good—just to do nothing. And when the call for luncheon came she felt hungry—and smiled. The doc tor had said a change was all she need ed, and here she was hungry already for the first time in weeks. The obsequious darky in charge of her table gave her the perfection of service, with one eye perhaps on the beautiful pigskin hand bag that rested against the window. That hag had been one of Da .'to ns g.:is. and at that very moment the giver himself was sitting at a table behind Beatrice, watching her every move with hungry eyes. He knew that she was going to the De Haven Smith lodge. Mrs. Smith had boldly held this out as a bait in his invitation, hut somehow lie felt that the psychological moment for making his presence known had not yet ar rived. He nobs] sometimes anew droop in her shoulders. Occasionally, too, she leaned her head on her hand between courses. This was the reac tion which the doctor had predicted, but Henry Dalton did not know this. Jie thought only that she was slowly but surely killing herself by reason of her pride, anil he must stand idly, dumbly by simply because he was so disgustingly rich that she would not listen. And upon these bitter thoughts rush ed the psychological moment. Miss Beatrice Craig, the independent and competent, opened her hand bag. the darky keenly observant, and slip ped her hand into the large pocket. Her finger tips touched naught hut pol ished leather. She tried the small pock et and drew forth some cards. Khe sat up very straight and dipped into her change purse to find a dime, a quarter and an old German coin, souvenir of Henry Dalton’s student days in Ber lin. Her face turned scarlet, then white. A horrible nervous tremor swept over her. Frantically she turned everything out of the bag to find almost anything a businesslike yet distinctly feminine person might own except money. Like a flash she remembered her mother's request. She had kept it all. every penny of the flatly folded bills. "Take what you think will last you until I come back.” Fateful words! Beatrice sent for the dining car con ductor and explained the situation. He was polite, but behind tfie mask of courtesy she read amusement, or was it distrust? Khe became haughty. "My host will meet me at the depot. Until then well, here are my rings or my watch”— The darkies had gathered at the ta ble opposite Ilenry Dalton with heads together, lips parted in ironical smiles. He summoned His waiter sharply. ‘‘Anything happened to the lady?” “Seems like she ain’t got the price of her lunch.” .lust at the instant Henry Dalton rose precipitately. Beatrice came down the aisle, her head high, hut her face ghastly. It was not the attitude of the conductor nor the grinning darkies, but a sudden faintness, a realization that for once her business ability, her su preme tact, her resourcefulness, had failed her. She did not read this as physical exhaustion. Her one grim thought was that she had lost her grip on herself. And then came Henry Dalton with a hand outstretched and the love of her shining in his eyes. “Beatrice, I am the most.fortunate of men.” “Oh, Henry,” she said, with a queer break in her clear voice, "will you please’’— Henry Dalton carried her back to the stateroom in the parlor car. Henry Dalton took firm possession of her luggage and firm control of the situa tion. Henry Dalton all but lifted her into the I)e Haven Smith wagonette when they left the train. And Henry Dalton read the telegram, for which he paid, though it was sent C. O. D. to Beatrice Craig. “Forgot to put money back in purse. What shall I do with itY” "Buy (lowers for yourself—every body," wired Henry Dalton to the first amazed and then understanding mother of Beatrice. “1 am taking care of Beatrice and always shall.” And that was why the smartest lay ette shop in all New York passed to a new owner and love came into its own. The White Flower. There is a lady living on a main street in a certain great city who had a window full of flowers, all in bloom. One day she answered a ring at the doorbell, to find a little girl perhaps nine years old shivering on the door step. “l’lease, ma’am,” said the waif, lift ing her shy, beautiful eyes to the face above her. “will you give me a flow er?” The request was such au unusual one that the lady hesitated in surprise. “Just one little flower,” pleaded the child, looking as if she were about to cry. "Why, of course," said the lady, "you shall have a flower. Come iu. Yon shall have a pretty red rose.” She stepped to the window where the flowers grew, but before she had cut one a light touch fell on her arm. "Not that oue. please—not a red one; that white one.” And the little girl pointed to a candidum unfolding its lily petals. "1 cannot cut that one. child” said the lady, gently. "Why must you have a white one? Why won't any flower do?” “Oh. because—because it's for poor mamma. Mamma is dead, and 1 ran away to get some flowers.” The next moment she was sobbing on the bosom of anew friend, and wbeD she went away she carried the precious lily and other flowers to the home where death had been.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat The Real Prince ... By MARTEA COEB SANFORD y Copyrighted, 190S, by Associated Literary .Press. How Katherine Searle came to tie Jack Farrington’s ward belongs to tlie early chapters of a long story. It dates buck, in fact, fifteen years, when Kath erine was a three-year-old baby and Farrington it young man of twenty. But at the beginning of the present chapter, after having been "finished off" iit a very proper boarding school. Katherine had just returned from a winter in Enrol* with Carrington’s married sister. And Farrington as he sat In the twi light on the luxuriously appointed porch of his out of tow it bouse was ex jiectantl.v awaiting a promised after dinner talk with her. In accordance with a long and care fully formulated plan lie felt that the time had now come for him to take Katherine seriously in hand and to prepare her for the prominent part she was sure to play in a world of admir ing lint, alas, inconstant men. Katherine, radiant in a fluffy glory of some soft, delicate stuff beyond man’s comprehension, at length tripped out through the casement door and perched herself affectionately on the arm of her guardian’s easy chair. He took her little white hand in his and patted it gently as he would a child’s. "I suppose you haven't begun to think about marriage yet, little girl?” he asked by way of tactful beginning. “Begun to think about it?” echoed Katherine. “Why. I’ve always thought about it—always and always.” Farrington Jooked up in amazement. "ll'm.” be mused. “I haven’t begun a moment too soon, it seems.” Then aloud be added: “So you’ve always thought about marriage, my dear? Well, well! And what have you thought about it?” Katherine threw her arms about bis neck and gave hitn an energetic bug. Then she placed a cushion at Ids feet and settled herself comfortably. “I’ll tell you,” she began confidential ly. “I’ve always adored fairy stories, and of course there's a glorious young prince in every fairy story, you know. Well, it was always fun when 1 was a little girl to imagine myself the beau tiful princess whom the prince was looking for—and now I'm grown up, guardy, dear, it’s just as much fun,” she finished naively. Carrington laughed heartily. He was greatly relieved. “Imaginary primes are all very harmless and proper, little Kit,” he commented indulgently, “but pretty goon you’ll begin to think about real everyday men.” “Pretty soon?” she queried teasingly. “Dear ( me!" exclaimed Carrington, with an unconcern lie was far from feeling. "You've not thought about real men already?” “You’d call Harvey Dunton a real man, wouldn’t you?” Katherine asked, looking at him roguishly. Carrington's jesting mood passed in a flash. He shut his teeth with sud den vexation. “Where did you meet Harvey Dun ton?” he inquired searekingly. “On the steamer coming back,” an swered Katherine. "Your sister intro duced him. lie's really very devoted to me. He’s coming around later this evening. He sings, you know, and I’ve promised to play bis accompani ments. Don't you like him, guardy? You don’t look as though you do.” “Oh, Dunton’s all right,” he answer ed good naturedly, suddenly alive to the fact that he must play his hand cautiously. “Y’ou evidently like him, little girl?” he parried. “I don’t know really, guardy. But he likes me. That's as far as we've got," was Katherine’s ingenuous reply. T m not taking him very seriously because, you see, somehow he isn’t exactly like the prince I’ve been expecting.” “I should hope not,” muttered Car rington. "What did you say?” "I said he's coming across the lawn now.” evf.ded Carrington. “I 11 stay out here and listen to the music if j’ou don’t mind. Kit.” "Just as you like, guardy, dear,” laughed Kitty. “I'll come out again after he's gone and tell you how T we got on.” “Weil?” asked Carrington an hour or so later as Katherine appeared sud denly in the doorway. She did not answer, but stood as if spellbound. This was a bad sign—a very bad sign, as Carrington interpret ed it. "Well?” he ventured again, this time a trifle peremptorily. "Guardy." exclaimed Katherine, her rapt expression breaking into the mer riest of smiles, "I'd forgotten you were out here.” "That's the way it seemed to ine,” re turned Carrington dryly. "Dunton has a very alluring voice, hasn't he? Come over here, you mischievous kitten, and confess, as you promised.” Katherine came slowly. “I’ll tell you. guardy.” she began hesitatingly, perching herself, ns usual, on the arm of his chair—"that is. if 1 can. I hardly know myself how I feel. You see, when Iffr. Dunton isq’t sing ing I don’t like him any better than I do lots of other men, not nearly as well as some, but”— “Lots of other men, did I under stand you to say?” interrupted Carring- I ton. “Oh, well, three or four, guardy! What do a half dozen, more or less, matter?” “There’s safety In numbers, to be Bure,” replied Carrington tritely. “But let’s get back to Dunton. You were going to tell me how you feel about him.” Immediately Katherine dropped her frivolous mood and became thoughtful. “When he’s talking, guardy, he might just as well be any man. as 1 told you. but when he sings, well”— “Weil?” "I almost feel that my prince has come,” breathed Katherine ecstatically. “Il’ru! Very romantic,” was Carring ton’s chilling comment. “When will you see him again?” “Not for a week. He was to go up to town on important business,” sighed Katherine. “Well, off to bed with you now, my ehild.” ordered the stern guardian, “and may some good fairy tell you how to know the real prince when he comes.” A week later to a night Carrington again sat listening to Dunton’s full magnetic voice as, w T ith seductive ease, it glided through one love sing after another to Katherine’s sympathetic ac companiment. Suddenly there came a pause in the singing—a long pause. Carrington waited for the sound of talking, but the silence was unbroken. Without stopping to weigh the jus tice of motive or consequences, he jumped up determinedly and made a dramatic entree into the music room Dunton, startled, straightened him self stiffly. He had been loaning over Katherine, looking into her eyes with passionate pleading. “This business must stop right here,” commanded Carrington, looking Dun ton squarely in the eye. “I do not understand you, Mr Car rington,” replied Dunton haughtily. “If you have been eavesdropping you could have heard nothing, for nothing has been said.” “No; that's just the trouble.” retort ed Carrington hotly. “Nothing has been said. Miss Searle is my ward, as you know, and it is my duty to pro tect her from such sorcerers as you. I happen to know that, like the carefully guarded ladies in the fairy tales, she is waiting for her prince to come”— here Carrington smiled down upon Katherine gently and placed his arm about her—“a real prince. Mr. Dun ton. They wear many disguises, you know 7 , and the lady’s protector has to he on the alert.” Dunton turned ashy white. “I trust that she may find her—real prince,” be answeftd scornfully and walked angrily from the room. When the sound of his footsteps had died away Katherine flung both her warm white arms around Carrington’s neck. Her eyes were full of shining tears, but her lips were smiling. “Guardy,” she said softly, “I have found my prince!” “Katherine, you don’t mean”— began Carrington joyfully. “Yes-Jack—l do.” “And so,” said Jack lovingly, after he had kissed her until she protested, “this is the end of the fairy story?” "Oh, no!” laughed Katherine softly. “They lived happily ever after, you know.” Exercise or Die. Every man and woman must do some muscular work or take equivalent ex ercise, else they will die long before their natural time. And if one's voca tion involves the use of only one set of muscles work must be found for the other muscles, else the individual be comes disproportionate in form and eventually a prey to disease. A hodcarricr, who is required to use nearly all his muscles, exerting him self close to the limit of his strength for many hours daily, never gives any thought to artificial exercise, for he has no need of any. But the profes sional man. the clerk, the typist and the saleswoman —all these find little real use for the muscles in their daily employment, and they require to take up some system of physical exercise to maintain normal health. Then there are factory operatives and the toilers in various trades, whose work brings Into play certain sets of muscles, while others are out of use. These require exercise adapted to giving employment to the neglected muscles. There is also a class of wealthy people who do no regular work of any kind, who re quire to follow some strength giving sport in lieu of work. At the opposite extreme is a class of athletes who make a business of artificial exercise and build themselves up into moun tains of muscle. These almost invaria bly overdo and in consequence suffer later.—Charles H. Cochrane in Metro politan Magazine. Stella —A dreadful experience, you say? Bella —Ye?; I saw a bargain in shoes when I had a hole in my stocking —New Y T orkSun. Announcements. for Representative. With assurances of profound grati tude to the people of Jackson county for their past support, I most respect fully announce myself a candidate for re-election to the House of Representa tives, subject to the action of the Dem ocratic primary on July 31. John N. Holder. To the People of Jackson County; You have honored me as your repre sentative heretofore, for,,' which I ex press to you my profound gratitude and assure you it has been highly ap preciated. It is one of the greatest pleasures of my life to serve the peo ple; really and indeed I want to be your servant and I therefore, announce mv self a candidate for Representative from this county, subject to the demo cratic primary on July 31, and ask your most hearty support, and solicit any suggestions in the way of legislation for the interes of the county, that I may be able to carry out your wishes. I think our aim should be for the welfare and upbuilding of the county and if elected, will do my best to carry out your wishes. Respectfully. L. G. Hardman. Ordinary, I hereby announce myself a candidate for Ordinary of Jackson > ounty, subject to the Democratic primary. Respect fully, James *A. Wills. Jefferson. Ga. To the voters of Jackson county; I hereby announce myself a candidate for the office of Ordinary of Jac son county, subject to the Democratic primary elec tion to be held July 31, 1908, and will appreciate your support. . his March 12, 1908. James L. A jlliamson. To the voters of Jackson county: I hereby announce myself a candidate for the office of Ordinary of Jackson county, subject to the action of the primary to be held July 31, 1908. Your support is earnestly solicited. P* W. Quattlebaum. For Clerk. <r o the voters of Jackson county: I most respectfully announce ntyself a candidate for re-election to the office of < lerk of tho Superior Court of Jackson county, subject to the Oemocratic pri mary to be held July yl, I9OS. thank ing vol for your past suffragP, I earnest ly solicit your support. Respectfully, S. J. Nix. for Sheriff. I most respectfully announce myself a candsdate for re-election for tiie office of Sheriff of Jackson county, subject to the Democratic primary July 31. t B. H. toulEß. for ireesiTer. •> I respectfully,announce myself a can didate for re-election to the office of treasurer of Jackson county, subject to the Democratic primary of July 31st. Geo. W. Bailey. I hereoy announce myself as a candi date for the office of sheriff of Jackson county, subject to the rules of the pri mary election to be held July 31, 1908, and earnestly solicit the support of all the qualified voters of the county and will appreciate the same. Respectful ’v, J. P. Kelly. Tex Collector. To the voters of Jackson county I re spectfully announce myself a candidate for re-election to office of Tax Col lector of Jackson county, subject to the Democratic primary on July 31, 1908. W. T. Appleby. For Tax Receiver I respectfully announce myself a can didate for re-election to the office of Tax Receiver of Jackson County, sub ject *to the Democratic primary on July 31, 1908. N. B. Lord. Chairman County Commissioner. I hereby announce myself a candidate for Chairman of Commissioners of Roads and Revenues of Jackson county subject to Democratic primary July 31. W. A. Carter I hereby announce myself as a candi date for the chairmanship of the board, of commissioners of roads and revenues of Jackson county, subject to the Demo cratic primary election of July 31,1908. If elected 1 shall give my time strictly to countv affairs. L. M. Dadisman. 1 hereby announce myself a candidate for Chairman of Commissioners of Roads and Revenues of Jackson county, subject to Democratic primary. H. C. Barnett. I respectfully announce myself a can didate for the Chairmanship of Board of Commissioners of Roads and Reve nues of Jackson county, subject to the' action of the primary on July 31. If elected I will devote my entire time to the duties of the office. A. R. Braselton. To the voters of Jackson county; 1 hereby announce myself a candidate for the offiA? of Chairman of the Board of-Commissioners of Roads and Reve nues of Jackson county, subject to the primary election of July 3L 1908. H J. M. Haynie. The average man isn’t ashamed to do a lot of things that he would be ashamed to be caught doing.