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THE QEOiaaiAWS MAGAZINE, PAGE
Daysey Mayme
and Her Folks
Bv FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
There ar* times In every man'* Ilf*
when ho would like to an out on the
center of a wild, lonely prarle and how 1,
and howl, and howl.
But environment, tradition and cus
tom will not .permit It H» must And
vent for hl.« feelings by kicking his
shoes under the bed, or saying. Oh.
hang it all!” in a very ladylike voice.
The Fathers club, organized by Ly
sander John Appleton last fall, soon
disbanded. The members couldn’t
think of anything to say that was fool
ish enough to attract attention, and
grew discouraged because of the great
er attention given the Mothers club
Since then Lysander John has be
longed to no organization but church,
and. feeling the need of knowing other
lonely men who are shut tn at night
while their wives and daughters pursue
the wrongs of their sex at club meet
ings. he has decided to organize a Shut-
In society, the members to be men who
are left alone as he is.
Following in the footsteps of other
prominent club organizers, he has orig
inated a great many reasons why the
Shut-In men. denied the sympathy of
their wives and daughters, should enjoy
the sympathy of one another.
These he will have printed In gold
and mail to all the husbands whose
wives assist Mrs. Appleton in saving
the world.
"It has often occurred to every Shut-
In man,” he begins, "that he hasn't had
any sympathy since the days his father
carried a strap and led him off to the
bam.
"The women." he added, "claim they
acquired patience through having to
put up with us men, but they didn't. If
they have any they acquired it when
passing through the interim between
instalments of continued stories in the
magazines."
Waxing eloquent on his wrongs, he
plunged into his subject, getting as
much ink on his fingers as If he had
been a literary lady.
"Thera ia an impression abroad that
when a man scolds at home he has
nothing to scold about
Never Bick at the Right Time.
"When he falls sick be forfeits the
little sympathy he might hope to get by
getting sick at the wrong time. It is
always Just when the dressmaker Is
due, or the house cleaning has begun,
or ’'hen invitations ar* sent out for
a party. He IS never sick at the time
most convenient for his family, and
they act as If he were to blame.
' if he amounts to anything, his wife
gets the credit, and no more account
Is taken of him than If he were a
clothing store dummy.
"Every time he gets a new chair or
picture for his office his wife is re
minded that she wants it for the house,
and anything on its last legs at the
house Is considered fit for the office.
He has so many bills to pay that
by the time he Is well off tn this world
he is well on toward the next, and
can't get any enjoyment out of his
money.
"No man is such a hero that he can
carve In a manner that satisfies his
wife, and if his treatment of her guests
is ever without fault, then it is time
for him to prepare for his heavenly
home. For such perfections will not be
permitted to linger long in this wicked
world.
“After he has passed sixty, he be
gins to look like an old house with a
'For Rent' sign on it, and the front
gate hanging by one of its hinges.
And no woman loves him enough to
notice his desolation.
"Because of this exile to Lonesome
Land, I call on all the Shut-In Men
to organize. It will be something worth
while to know, while we play soli
taire, and keep guard over the dog and
the cat, that other brave men are
doing the same, and thinking of us
kindly. We must arise like men, and
stand up for our rights!"
Lysander John is much In earnest tai
this desire to bring the comfort of sym
pathy to other Shut-Tn Men. but may
not be able to mall his circular let
ters for some time. The call to other
brave men to stand up for their rights
Is delayed because Mrs. Appleton will
not let him have money for the postage.
Danderine
Makes your hair grow long, heavy and
luxuriant and we can prove it
Get a 25 Cent Bottle Now and
Forever Stop Falling Hair, Itching
Scalp and Dandruff
Hair Becomes Soft, Fluffy. Lus«
trous and Abundant After a
Danderine Hair Cleanse
Danderine is to the hair what fresh showers
of rain and sunshine are to vegetation. It
goes right to the roots, invigorates and
strengthens them. Its exhilarating, stimula
ting and life-producing properties cause the
hair to grow abundant!v long, strong and
beautiful. It at once imparts a sparkling
brilliancy and velvety softness to the hair,
and a few weeks’ use will cause new hair to
sprout all over the scalp. Use it every day
for a short time, after which two or three
times a week will be sufficient to complete
whatever growth you desire.
Immediately after applying a little Dan
derine all dandruff will disappear, all itching
of the scalp will cease and there will be no
more loose or falling hair.
If you wish to double the beauty of your
hair in ten minutes surely try this—moisten
a cloth with a little Danderine and draw it
carefully through your hair, taking one small
strand at a time, this will cleanse the hair of
dust, dirt or any excessive oil—ln a few
moments your hair will be wavy, fluffy and
abundant and possess an incomparable soft
ness, lustre and luxuriance, the beauty and
shimmer of true hair health.
If vou care for beautiful, soft hair and lots
of it surely get a 25 cent bottle of Knowl
ton's Dadderine from anv drug store or
toilet counter —A real surprise awaits you.
«| 'rhe Lovers of the World -:- -:- -;- By Nell Brinkley [»
<Sopyrtgfit. 1012, National New» Association
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{(J fELEN OF TROY"—do we
t 1 we ever hear or read that
name without the dreams
come thick and fast?
Dreams of fair countrysides, blue
seas and wind-scoured skies, tem
ples made blue and white tn light
and shadow by the strong south
sun. tall maids with sandals lashed
on their high-arched feet running
in the games, or listening to whis
pered love stories with black heads
leaned against cool marble and
shoulders mottled with shadows of
slow-swaying cypress tree; dreams
of whistling sword and the sun
glinting on bristling fields of spears,
the thunder of chariot wheels, and
the singing of clouds of arrows
leaving the bow as the wind sings
in' a mighty' forest when the rain
is not far off. the clang of sword
on sun-smitten shield, Greece's
youth, gold-maned, war-mad or
crumpled 'neath the restless, loud
crying waves of battle; many col
ored creams of Love and its dar
ing, the hearts it burns out, and
the youth who follows its fatal call
ing; dreams of the fair women who
JnlrwM
L. OlsSf 1J
V W ftfßl
live only In the dim corridors of
one’s thoughts; the one dream of
that golden woman, Helen of Troy,
whose shape Is but a dim and glim
mering glory In one's mind because
of its splendid beauty, just as a
handful of marvelous gems held in
the sun are hidden by their own
glitter and gleam; dreams of the
drowsy shepherd who left his hap
piness behind on the wild hills of
Ida; and then maybe, if you are a
man. and dreaming is still sweet to
you. that dream within a dream,
comes the woman to-be, whose face,
for you. “would launch a thousand
ships and burn the topless towers
of Ilium."
Listen now to the telling of the
happy days of Paris, the shepherd,
of his following Love's fateful call
ing down into Sparta land, his
trials, of hfs flight with Helen, of
the ending of his dream, of his
death on Ida's slopes, and of the
living on of Helen, untouched by
tragedy.
Paris was the son of Priam, king
of Troy, and when he was born his
mother dreamed a dream from
which the oracles foretold that
through this prince should ruin fall
on Ilion. So then his mother loved
him no more. And Priam, his fa
ther, sent him. with one of his
shepherds, to be left out upon the
hills of Ida. But the rain, and the
dew, and the winds, and the sun of
five long days brought no death
sleep to the tiny Greek, but the
blood into his cheeks and the laugh
ter into his eyes, and the shepherd's
heart warmed, and he knew, said
he. "that the gods never meant him
to die." so he took him to his hearth
for his own.
As he grew he was straight, and
strong, and kind, and beautiful,
and faithful with the flocks; he was
skilled tn games, and hie music was
a thing to linger for.
For long years he drove the sheep
on the wild hill-fields of Ida, and
filled the deep pine forests with
his singing. Then one day. his fa
ther-king. who believed his little
prince safe dead, thought a most
kind thought! He would give a
feast to the gods so that poor Paris
might have peace In the dark coun
try of Hades So he sent to the
slopes of Ida for a bull from among
his herds, to give to the victor of
Joyful News
Easter sessions In the law courts of 1
a certain Irish town were in full swing ,
But on the third day a dreadful calam
ity occurred. The court crier was ab- I
sent.
"Well, we must endeavor to find a sub.
stitute." remarked the judge
Just as they were in the middle of
an exciting case, a breathless messen
ger boy came In. and handed a letter
to the Judge. The latter read it. and ,
j then announced to the court.
I have a message from our court ,
1 'Tier. He says: Wife’s mother died I
i last night. Wil! not be able to cry to- i
I day!' " I
the Games. And the one they chose
was that one which Paris had made
his own and loved the best.
So, in his wrath and tears, the
sturdy' boy followed the servants
and his pet to Ilion, and, blind
with rage, he fought in the Games,
and—won! His brother tried to kill
him. but his sister cried that it was
Paris who had been left to die on
Ida, and when he know his story,
the shepherd's heart turned black
with grief within him, and back he
went with his again won pet at
his heels, to the flocks and the
pine forests of Ida.
And when the grief w ashed a lit
tle out of his heart and the sun was
good to him again, a dream fell
upon him, for he saw. and wooed,
and won Oenone, the daughter of
the River God Cebrenus. And this
was the happiness of Paris. Now,
down in Phthia. there was great
feasting of gods and men, for Fe
leus had won Thetis, a maid of the
deep sea. for his wife And all the
gods were there but Discordia. And
her ugly face they didn't want
where there was all aughter and
beauty.
So that piqued ugly one thought
hard, and thought away of ven
geance, Into the midst of the feast
she flung a golden apple, and across
its sheen was written. "For the
fairest " And here then was an
uproar. Three goddesses stretched
a white hand for it and quarreled.
Minerva desired it. Juno coveted
it above all things. Venus smil
ingly took it for her right. "For."
sasy she. "the stars danced in
heaven when I was born, for my
very beauty." But Jupiter thun
dered his order that the three
goddesses take the gold apple to
the hills of Ida, and there Paris,
the fairest of all men. should give
it to whom he would.
So here begin the trials of Par
is. So to the hills of Ida and to
Paris with his flocks came these
royal three. Juno offered him
power. Minerva gravely offered
him wisdom and strength and hap
py days. But Venus slipped close
to the shepherd and bribed him
with "The fairest of all daughters
of men for a wife." But Paris
laughed aloud at this "I need not
that, he said, "for a fairer wife
ROYAL
BAKING POWDER
Absolutely Pure
The only Baking Powder made
from Royal Crape Cream ofTartar
NO ALUM, NO LIME PHOSPHATE
than Oenone can no man ever have.
Yet thou art the fairest daughter
of all the gods, and so I give thee
the apple of gold." So now lay on
Ilion the wrath wf Juno, Minerva
and ugly Discordia.
Now, faraway in Sparta Discor
dia brought famine and dark days.
And the gods told Menelaus, the
king, that not until the bones of
the children of Prometheus were
brought from Ilion would there be
plenty. So to Priam's kingdom
< ante Menelaus, and there he saw
Patis, whom he straight loved for
his beauty and strength.
Rich he promised to make him if
he would go with him to Sparta.
So Paris, the shepherd prince, be
lieved. and. kissing his smiling riv
er nymph good-bye, he sailed with
Menelaus to Sparta land. And there
he saw HELEN. Helen of Troy,
the wife of Menelaus.
Gold and white she was. and
deep eyed and full lipped, her face
so great a marvel that men forgot
all other things but the sweetness
of living within sight of her flut
tering,. gold-bordered robe. And
Paris forgot the slopes of Ida and
the pine woods, and the flocks, and
he forgot Oenone and all his lov
ing of her. So Venus and Discor
dia wove round his heart the tan
gling web of Love. And one day
when Menelaus was gone far for a
little while, these two. Helen and
Paris, the shepherd, fled down the
rocks to the blue water and over
the sea to Ilion. And there they
lived in the house of Priam, the
father of Paris. Paris' spear and
shield hung idle and unburnished
on the wall And high on the hills
of Ida Oenone watched her bright
tears slip Into the water of Cebre
nus. So down upon fair Ilion fell
the great hosts of Menelaus; the
sea was black with ships; men
crowded in swarms over the high
white walls of Troy. Priam fell
under the sword in his own great
hall; here Hector died. Juno and
Minerva loomed mighty in the ar
my of Menelaus, and for Troy came
no help from Venus, the merryma
ker Paris tek down hl« spear and
shield and went into the battle, but
his heart and his body had turned
< oward. and he gave no help to the
weary Trojans. Troy died under
the sword, her w hite towers, crum
bled and boiled in dust to the sky.
and in the fire of her burning fell
to naught the dreams of Paris.
The shepherd fled, and as he ran an
arro wof Philoctotes winged Its way
into his side. He plucked it out
and flung it far. but its poison
spread, and he hurried with limbs
trembling and breath growing short
and a coldness creeping on him to
the hillside of Ida. where he had
watched his sheep. And here Oe
none held him close till he had
died. So goes the way of men and
maids even now.
And back to Sparta with Mene
laus went Helen, the perfect, gold
en and white, unblamed, untouch
ed. unremembering.
~ ..
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MAULL BROS., S* Louis, Mo.
The Manicure
Lady
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
t e-j-y HERE was an awful funny man
I in here to have his nails did
this morning. George,” said th*
Manicure Lady. "He has a new kind
of talk he has invented, like hog Latin,
only different. He told me that his
name was Gus Chapeau, or some such
name, only he called himself s-Gus in
stead of Gus. He said: 'S-ain't it a
s-fine s-day?' and a lot of other things
that don't sound funny unless you take
them home and try them on the piano.
In other words, George, you have s-got
to s-practlce a s-whlle. I think It’s
lots of fun.”
The Head Barber regarded her pity
ingly. "I am sorry for you, kiddo," he
said. "I think you must be losing your
mind, to pay any attention to that
kind of junk. Talk English when you
talk, even if you don't talk it none
too good.”
"S-what!" cried the Manicure Lady.
"You don't mean to s-tell me. s-George,
that my English ain't s-better than
yours. I don't know this new' talk well
enough, George, to bawl you out proper
in it. but don't you never dare to tell
me that my regular English ain't reg
ular. You got a nerve. Why. George,
there is times that I almost weep when
I hear you trying to talk to a customer
that has had many advantages in them
walks of life in which most of us has
been in. Don't never dare to poke fun
at my gramamr again. You talk awful
bad grammar.
“All I started out to tell you was
that the funny talk this Mister Cha
peau brought in was that contagious
that he had all the girls talking It in
no time. On the square. George, it's
all I can do now to keep from talking
it. 1 am doing my best, but it’s hard.”
"Just as I told you before.” said the
Head Barber sadly. “I am afraid you
are losing your mind."
"I ain't no such thing." said the
Manicure Lady. "Just listen to this
sentence and after I have said it the
new way, you say it the old way if you
can. I'll dare you to. Now. listen;
" 'S-Mary s-had a s-little s-lamb.’
Now, you sa.v it in regular English."
The Head Barber seemed puzzled.
“What are you trying to do?" he de
manded. "Are you trying to kid me ?■"
"No. George." said the Manicure La
dy. as she repeated the sentence again
in her own version. "S-now you sky
it. Say it s-qulck!"
"Sure," said the Head Barber. “Mary
had a s-little s-lamb."
"You said it part right and past
wrong," asserted th* Manicure Lady,
triumphantly.
"S-what!” exclaimed the Head Bar
ber. "S-now I s-know you are s-cra
zy! ”
ALL FORLAUGHAN,
A poor little fellow called Vaughan
Was playing one day on the laughan.
When a whirlwind came nigh,
Took him up to the skigh,
And none could till where he had
gaughan.
MUMPS FOR MUMPERS.
Little Rot What do you want"
Tramp—All depends. What yer got"
l.ittl* Boy—Mumps!