Atlanta Georgian. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, June 29, 1912, EXTRA, Image 5

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THE QE O ROHAN’S MAGAZINE PAGE “The Gates of Silence” A STORY OF LOVE. MYSTERY AND HATE, WITH A THRILLING POR TRAYAL OF LIFE BEHIND PRISON BARS. TODAY’S installment. Then, as she-stood there with nervously. Interlacing fingers, she had added words that had given him food for furious thought—thought that was bearing fruit now in this journey to London. “It’s madness, perhaps. Jack. I hardly dare to say it, for it can’t be true. Yet there’s a vague Impression in my mind ( that it was after I saw you in that room where—it —was —that I saw Mr. Saxe. Only, of course that isn’t possible—” But it was possible, it seemed to Rim ington. who had felt all his old distrust of the man revive. It was Saxe who had got Betty out of the house: how or why lie. had not the glimmering of an idea, but only the fixed conviction, not to be shaken now. that Betty and be —yes, and the dead man himself—had been pawns in some fiendish game which Saxe had played in Tempest street, when the police were clamoring at the door. If only he had faced them then and told the truth while the trail was fresh! But now his very silence had made him guilty! And Betty! As in the quiet room at the Red H juse her last words had rung in his ears the night long, so now the wheels of the train carrying him to London beat them out like the burden of a song. “I may be innocent. Jack. I pray God that 1 am. But if I allow an innocent man to suffer without raising a voice in his defense I shall be innocent no longer— I must tell what I know." A Vision. I A vision of Betty's, sac set and resolute—rose up before him. Not the hysterical outbreak of a sick girl, these, words, but the resolute determination of « courageous woman. Bett.x would keep her word—Betty would speak: but he would be before her. That was the goal to which his thoughts of the night had led him. He would go to Paul Saxe, tax him directly with com plicity in the happenings at Tempest street, and. if the man failed him, go di rect to the police. Saxe might be trusted to fin<l some way of compelling Betty to silence, since Saxe knew her secret — He refused to let his thoughts carry him farther. The train was nearing London. Riming fon shifted bis position, thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat and encoun tered Hie sharp edges of the letters he had caught up from the breakfast table in his hasty rush for the train. There were three—two unimportant so cial invitations from hostesses giving im promptu entertainments during a flying visit to town, and one heavily sealed, bearing the postmark "Westport," was trom his assistant at the laboratory. He opened it with a quickening of the pulses that even his present misery was not able to subdue. Something fluttered from it— a cablegram in cipher. He glanced at it , curiously, and without the code book failed to decipher it. Then, as he turned to the letter. Rimington's figure stiffened. , He sat upright in the carriage, the paper ♦ shaking In his hand. Charpentier, his assistant at Westport, the man who was as his other self in the matter of this discovery which was to bring fame and wealth to them both, wrote in the oddly matter-of-fact style that was characteristic to him: “Dear Rimington: Although your lack of interest in the matter has jeopardized our success considerably. I am glad to ' / 'N/fO purer, cleaner food comes •*“ ’ to your table than FAUST f SPAGHETTI in its sealed pack- Y / age. And it’s so good. 1 5c awd fOc package* I at your jjfdoer'a. A ’ \ MAULL BROS. A* \ St. Louis, Mo. - Z> I \^L tr **e?*sFF'- ',. ■ Iw The Latest “ Thing in Stoves For a midnight supper, as for any other meal at any ™ other time, the very latest thing in stoves —the best that stove-artists can do—is a Il Bur™ <.HI SSff.lfegllS&gS OH Cook-stove L 1 n fi en l •* eoar-eotrate* the heal when you want it trates Meat and where you want it. It ua. auick aa gee, '■MMMP' —A® Waste needier and bencher than coal, cheaper than JKjflMggg It Is Handy Perfection Store hat kn>«. en.me'ed, I —No Dirt nrr<|uo»e-blue chimney.. hit hanawmeir hrnthod la, IL, jLjE®. in nickel, with cabinet top, drop tnelrea. towel ■jjfjr It IS Ready rack*, etc. Made with 1. 2 M 3 burner,. AiA n.Lv All dealer, carry the New Perieciion Stow. J ‘ V \ no ueiay Frw Cook-Book w tl> erery «o»e. Caok-Book abo V I ’ - 1 lo .nyone teadma $ eeW* to cover mallma —W ■ STANDARD OIL COMPANY *'^7..,_.ete<i in Kentucky, , Covineton. Ky.i Lcnuxtlllo, Kyu Atlanta. Ga.; Birnainnham. AU-t and JecAw».vin.. FU. | write that the Japanese government, after almost British shilly-shallying, have ca bled definite terms. This new warcloud has no doubt expedited matters. I Inclose a translation of their cable. You will see they offer £IOO.OOO. ...” The letter slipped from Rimington's grasp. A Good Omen. A hundred thousand pounds! A stu pendous price—a price beyond their wild est dreams. Rimington remembered their hopes when first this new explosive had been brought to perfection and had seethed to them the last word in scientific destructors, and their slow death. They had offered it to the English government first, and after intolerable delay it had been refused. Russia had made a curt refusal. Japan had nibbled and hesitated and delayed. But now' A hundred thousand pounds! That meant fifty thou sand pounds for him. and fifty thousand terms meant Betty. He had not boasted in vain. And then, chill on the white heat of his joy, came the remembrance of the cloud that lay over them both, of the reason for his presence there in that carriage—why he was hurrying/at that moment to Lon don. He laughed aloud suddenly. Fate, that had dealt him so cruel a buffet on one side of the face, was caressing him gently on the other! "Perhaps it’s a good omen,” he said to himself, bending to pick up the scattered sheets of Charpentier’s letter. At any rate he determined to accept it as such. It certainly made all the dif ference in his outlook on life, lifting him out of uncertainty into security. At least he need no longer worry about ways and means: he could meet Saxe as an equal, tight him with his own weajlon ~ money. The train was slowing down, running smoothly into the great station. He thrust Charpentier’s letter into his pock et. find stood up his hand on the window ready to jump out at the moment the train ran alongside the platform. At that hour the station was crowded, and Rim ington found, despite ills own empty car riage, that the train by which he had traveled was very full. He jutpped out and mingled with the crowd with a thrill that the contact with busy life never failed to give him. He had a season ticket, so his rooms in town —Weybourne was suf ficiently his home to make ft worth his while to have one. As a rule Ire never required to show his ticket, but this morning, for some reason, they chal lenged him at the barrier. As Riming ton fumbled for his ticket some one brushed against him, pushed him almost rudely, and went on. He glanced after tire man with the quick suspicion that he might be a thief, and saw him loitering outside the barrier—a tall, burly man of unimpeachable respectability. As he himself passed out he saw the man detach himself from the crowd. His departure from Weybourne had been too hasty t~o permit of him getting a paper. Rimington made his way to ward the bookstall It was his intention to take a taxi into the city to Saxe's office and he wanted a paper to read on the way. The posters of the first editions of the afternoon papers we're already out, early as it was. and Rimington. through the crowd, caught a glance of a familiar word in large letters, black on a pink ground. “Westport—” To Be Continued in Next Issue. * The June Bride of 1912 * Startling Facts Concerning Ne’w Ideas in Wedding Goicns By OLIVETTE. THY doesn't the modern VV bride wear her veil over her face as her mother did?" That's one of the absurd questions a Mere Man asked me at a recent wedding where the beauti ful bride was dressed .in the very latest mode with a wedding veil ar ranged caplike under a crown of tiny white roses. “Foolish man. The old fashion of throwing back the veil mussed up the brides hair so it’s been dis carded.” “I thought it was symbolic,” said the M. M. vaguely.. “When symbols and fashions clash, the steam roller goes over the symbols fast enough." With that he subsided, as he should, and was left to view as nice a w’edding as one could wish for. The bride wore white chiffon over white satin, a simple frock with a beautiful lace veil as chief decoration. This veil, which had encited the M. M.'s comment, was arranged almost like a frilled cap on the head and was Certainly much prettier than the ordinary bunched up affair. The same ar rangement can be .carried out in tulle, and if the tulle Is edged with a small val edging the effect is quite charming. Don’t hem the tulle, sew the lace on carefully to a well cut edge. The June bride is a sort of pat tern to her summer and autumn sifter, and the girl who marries later in the summer has the ad vantage of innumerable bargain sales in everything that is included in the trousseau. Lingerie, lace, lawn, not to speak of satip for the wedding gown—all these things are cheaper at this season. Every girl wants to be married in white, but the fashionable wedding dress is an elephant in the married woman’s wardrobe unless she in tends to have it done over into an evening gown. , Except for very elaborate wed- , dings, traveling suits are becoming more and more popular for the marriage ceremony. The travel ing suit idea can be strained a point and developed into quite elab orate afternoon frocks or coat and skirt suits with handsome waists. These are more serviceable and practical. But the sentimental woman does not feel that she’s quite married unless she wears sat in and a veil, and. after all, she should forget economy for once in her life, even if. She finds her satin frock useless forever after. Up Against It. "This is a hard world," said a shabby chap. “A man can’t get a job unless got a new suit.” “No,” said his companion, "and he can’t get a new suit unless he's got a job.” One Reservation. “A woman can be just as self-reliant and independent as a man,” said the, wife, defiantly. “Mebbe she can. Henrietta. Mebbe she can: but not while she wears dress es that hook up the back.” f Little Bobbie’s Pa * By WILLIAM F. KIRK. THARE is no use talking, Sed Pa to Ma last nite, this fellow Bacon was a grand old guy. You have got to give it to him, sed Pa. Do you mean Jack Bacon? asked Ma, the fellow that is all the time taking gurls hoam? I doant think he is so vary grand. I doant mean Jack Bacon at all, sed Pa, altho Jack is a good fellow. 1 mean Lord Bacon, the man that rote all them Shakespeare plays. Thare was a lot of class to that old boy. Lissen to these lines which I seleck at ran dom, Pa sed, from a essay about wives: Wives is peculiar. Give them a inch & thay will take a ell & give you ell too. They are as Inconstant & incon sitent as the butercup that lisps its morning greeting to the dandeline & then* refuses to say any moar to the dandeline all day. They are wunderful wen pain & anguish wrings our brows after we cum hoam at nite, & thay luv ingly smooth out the wrinkles & fur rows of care wjth a flat iron. Thay worship thare husbands with all thare harts, espeshully wen the evening star is pointing at payday. Thay prepare, with thare dear, loving hands the dain tiest viands for which thay can stand off the grocer & butcher, & after the husband has ate to his fill thay always git restless & actually want to go out in the evening, jest as if thay didn’t reely know that thare husbands has been out all day! Your old pal Bacon seems to think a lot of us girls, doesnt he, sed Ma to A NOTRE DAME LADY’S APPEAL To all knowing sufferers of rheumatism, whether muscular or of the joints, sci atica, lumbagos. backache, pains in the kidneys or neuralgia pains, to write to her for a home treatment which has repeat edly cured all of these tortures. She feeis It her duty to send it to all suffer ers FREE. You cure yourself at home as thousands will testify—no change of cli mate being necessary. This simple dis covery banishes uric acid from the blood, loosens the stiffened joints, purifies the blood and brightens the eyes, giving elas ticity- and tone to the whole system. If he above interests you. for proof ad- z - H#»* Hair P Oerr* I / / hknS&B? V / Czk JKHE& y IHHF' // idstt ‘W’-' 11 'it xk- i ; atT U . Mt IHH H / ■■ k I i- ' ■ BKKBtrafIREMUsnHBE * w WWUBMBBMwy/ / K_ I I WobBBKWf / J 11 /pt * 11 ■ Av.-.-xt ® I /#r • ' '■ /I \W ’ tl7 \ w ' F/ I )■ ; ’ l *Vl s F4 I I J! X I . rW-t'ILX ' ii B\ / / It - iw 1 ■Lx ' / I t ■ ■ J //I # i w" >\ ,F” •’« . I ) Aaw *-' rAN • . aMWa , l MRmBW ’> e’ / \ 'Wmet ” aA \ 'SBr ' ‘ ’ \ vw - . ■ \ '5 . . '■ 'W \'‘ ' j Pa. I bet hitt wife had a swell time of it wen he was in the league. What else, if anything, did he offer in the way of a knock? He wasnt exactly knocking, explained Pa. Pa wanted to git off for two (2) hours & play bilyards, & he didn't want to- git Ma mad, beeßaus wen Ma gits mad Pa is lucky to have his half of the twin beds. AU Mister Bacon wrote. Pa sed. along them married lines, that is the part he rote besides the part 1 have jest read to you. is this: A married woman is uneek in many respecks. I mite say that outside of Utah a married woman is singular. She goes to a party with you. Let us call it a card party. She starts off playing vary gentel & amiable. She is so amia ble that she Will even let you buy her chips. Then she loses a liitel, & you wud think it was her own munny she was losing, not yours. A woman can call herself the clinging vine & call her husband the sturdy oak, but in my opinion it is a case of the stringing vine & the sturdy joak. Husband, sed Ma. wud you mind let ting me look at that Bacon book you are reading aloud from? You doant have to see the lines, sed Pa, I read the lines for you dident I? After Pa went to bed I looked at the page of Mister Bacon’s book that Pa was pretending to read from, & thare wasent any of the,lines in the book that he sed was in the book. Pa is a faker. Do You Know— During the past wheat harvest in New South Wales, 2,334,780 acres yield ed 24,816,100 bushels of wheat. Sold during 1910. the original manu script of the hymn, ’’Nearer, My God. to Thee." realized $l5O. Nearly 100,000 women in New York city consume no fewer than 36,000,000 cigarettes a year. Practically the whole of the tea grown in Indian is disposed of by-auc tion In Cakmttu REASON FOR SILENCE, She—l’ve had that parrot two years, and it has never said a word. He—Why don’t vou give it » chance? MOTHERHOOD SUGGESTIONS Advice to Expectant Mothers The experience of Motherhood is a try ing one to most women and marks dis tinctly an epoch in their lives. Not one woman in a hundred is prepared or un derstands how to properly care for her self. Os course nearly every woman nowadays has medical treatment at such times, but many approach the experience with an organism unfitted for the trial of strength, and when it is over her system has received a shock' from which it is hard to recover. Fol lowing right upon tins comes the ner vous strain of caring for the child, and a distinct change in the mother results. There is nothing more charming than a happy and healthy mother of children, and indeed child-birth under the right conditions need be no hazard to health or beauty. The unexplainable thing is that, with all the evidence of shattered nerves and broken health resulting from an un prepared condition, and with ample time in which to prepare, women will persist in going blipdiy to the trial. Every woman at this time should rely upon Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com pound, a most valuable tonic and invig orator of the female organism. In many homes once childless there y/| ’ are now children be- (v/ \ cause of the fact I WtHl that Lydia E. Pink- II II ham’s Vegetable Jl zv Ik Compound makes wX women normal, /)] | \|’ ’f K healthy and strong. If yon want special advice write tn Lydia E. Pinkham Medicine Co. (confi dential) Lynn. Muss. Your letter will tie opened, read and answered by a wuuau and held lu strict loafidegoe. Daysey Mayme and Her Folks By FRANCES L. GARSIDE. IN days of old a fair maid wandered pensively to the wotods, where rare birds sang to her of love, and the most delicate of flowers nodded sweet messages to her. If she chose to recline on the velvet sward, it was velvet sward, without brambles or sticks or stones to punch her in the back. Butterflies hovered near, and if there were such a thing as poison Ivy, a granddaddy-long-legs or a chigger, the chronicles of love fall to reveal it. If a fair maid wandered pensively into the woods these days, she would be devoured by insects or lost In the weeds. Elaine may still love Lancelot, but she can’t tell it in the woods, all her attention being occupied in fighting bugs. Visions of love, in a modern guise, come to many girls as they come to Daysey Mayme Appleton, who takes surreptitious peeps into the Promised I-and while supposed to be putting clean paper on the pantry shelves. She was perched on a round of a step-ladder, after having removed glassware and chinaware, with clean newspapers in her hands to replace those she haxf taken off. She spread a paper over the shelf, found it didn't fit the corner, and had taken it up to crease it when her eyes fell on the words: “And her breast heaved with emotion, for Viola was not a girl to take such a, breach of good manners lightly.” “It is past 10 now,” said Daysey Mayme, to fortify herself against temp tation, “and I must get this done, re puff my hair, get lunch and go to a Mothers Meeting at 1.” Then she resolutely creased the page to fit the shelf, and bent over to fit It in the corners, when she again read: Stay Kind Sir, She Said. “He looked at her with his love at the white heat of anger. His eyes flashed, and he turned away. 'Stay,’ she cried, ’I have not told ALL.’ ’You have told enough!’ he said, a flicker of contempt in hie iqold gray eyes. She gave a low moan, like some dumb an imal in mortal anguish.” Daysey Mayme picked up the pickle jar and deliberately set it over the next sentenced "I have a busy day ahead of me,” she said, "and must not let anything ZJ I HU ANTY \ « DRUDGeX Anty Drudge Tells How to economize on Coal. Jfrs. Thrifty —"My husband Is !n the coal bushwM anti it doesn’t cost anything for fuel to boil the clothes.** Anty Drudge— " Your husband doesn’t get his coal for nothing, does he? Besides it costs just half the wear of your clothes when you boil them, as they wear out just twice as fast Use Fels-Naptha soap In coo! or lukewarm water if you want to save time, bother and your husband’s coal.” John D. Rockefeller says “it is not what we earn but what we save that makes wealth.” In washing clothes with Fels-Naptha in cool or lukewarm water, either in summer or winter, you save: — Fuel— No necessity for hot fire or boiling water. Clothes— \ our clothes last twice as long when washed with Fels-Naptha, because they are not weakened by boil ing, nor worn out by hard rubbing. Doctor s Bills— You don’t risk your health by bending over steaming suds or a hot fire and then going into the cool outer air. Fnne— The Fels-Naptha way of washing takes less than half as long as the old wash boiler way. Labor— Fels-Naptha takes three fourths the work and all the drudgery out of washday. If these savingsare worth while to you, follow directions for using Fels-Naptha printed on *he red and green wrapper. interrupt. There’s a suffrage" “ ’Suffer me to kneel at your feet,’ sobbed Viola.’ ” Daysey Mayme put a pile of soup plates over the rest of Viola’s plea, and began to match every vegetable dish with its own lid. "I have a suffrage meeting at 2," she resumed, “and an article on ’The Folly of Love’ to read to the Man- Haters league at 4.” In putting the last lid on the last vegetable dish, a bare space was left In the paper, and these words seem to fairly fling themselves Into her sub consciousness: “Leander paused. After all, Viola was only a weak, frail woman. Per haps he had been too severe. Perhaps he had been brutal. The de Courtneys had always been stern with the women they loved. Then Came—Hoof Beats, “‘I have forgiven much,’ he began, when a sound of horses' feet coming through the forests caused him to pause, and turn a listening ear to the open window. Nearer and nearer, now so near he could tell that there was not One lone rider. There were two, three, four—ah, there were at least three score. “He turned to the woman cowering at his feet, 'Ah,' he hissed between white lips, ‘this Is your work, you Devil!’ s "He raised his gauntlet, something flashed through the air” Daysey Mayme gave a quick above, and sent soup plaies and vegetajjta dishes tumbling into every corner of the shelf. Hastily gathering up the paper she had so carefully spread out, she twisted her feet over the rounds of the step-ladder for a better hold, and was soon lost to the world. Oblivious of the dishes that looked, at her in round-faced astonishment, and the shelves that fairly yawned for clean papers, she read, and read, and read. Lunch, her hair puffs and the Moth er’s Meeting were forgotten, and wtte* she had followed the woes of Viola to the bitter end of the sun had set.' It was then Daysey Mayme came back from the Promised Land of Ro mance to her prosaic surroundings. Realizing that It was too late for her to deliver her address on “The Folly of Love” before the Man Haters’ league, she grew so angry at her weakness she smashed the soup tureen.