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THE GEORGIAN’S MAGAZINE PAGE
© Blind as a Kitten ©
By Beatrice Fairfax
I have received the following letter,
and its perusal causes much re
gret that men walk the earth who
commit graver crimes than highway
robbery, but who are beyond the
clutches of the law:
•I am fifteen years of age and
l a m in love with a gentleman of
forty-one, with whom I became ac
quainted about nine weeks ago. My
parents absolutely refuse to let him
call on me, so lately he has been
meeting me after school. Last week
he asked me to elope with him, as
my parents would never consent to
us being married. He is a very
nice man and has no bad habits.
He says he loves me dearly, but I
don’t know what to do, as I am al
most afraid to tell him 'No.' And
yet I hate to deceive my parents."
This little girl Is passing through the
same stage as the kitten. Born with
Its eyes shut, nine days elapse before it
opens them.
Her nine days of life have not elapsed
and I am much afraid that unftss some
kind providence Intervenes she will
open them on a world of pain and sor
row and disgrace.
No man of forty-one loves a girl of
fifteen in the right way If encour
ages her to oppose her parents. For
bidden her home, he shows every mark
of a villain in meeting her on the
itreets.
He doesn’t love her; he doesn’t know
what love Is. I do not believe he has
any intention of marrying her. If ne
has, it is through some hope of mate
rial gain.
She Doesn’t Know.
With the girl as his wife, it would put
his talonlike hands on -her , father’s
purse. He has “no bad habits," she
rays. Poor little traveler on a strange
path! She doesn't know the worst of
habits may be hidden under the most
beguiling of manners.
With an Innocence and ignorance that
are appalling, she is standing on the
brink of a precipice, and how her little
world will condemn her if she makes a
misstep in her blindness, and goes
over!
, am almost afraid to tell him ‘No,’ ”
she says, and therein lies a tragedy.
She knows down in her heart that his
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Anty Drudge Discovers Why George
Has No Appetite.
Anty Drudge— “ What? easing dinner in this steamy,
smelly kitchen? I should think it would take your
appetite away.”
Mrs. Slow— “I have noticed that George doesn’t eat much
» on washdays.”
Anty Drudge— “ How can he! Why don’t you us«
Fels-Naptha? Boiling water isn’t necessary; and
you’ll be through your wash plenty of time to have
dinner in the dining-room. Or if you prefer the
kitchen, there will be no steam or bad smells. ’
Talk about energy!
A half cake of Fels-Naptha soap can
display more energy in getting rid of dirt
in half an hour than an able-bodied
woman can in half a day.
But there’s this difference: Much of
the woman’s energy is wasted.
When she rubs clothes hard on a
washboard she wears out the clothes in
trying to rub out the dirt.
Fels-Naptha concentrates its energy
on the dirt —dissolves it into tiny particles
that are easily rinsed away—without
harming the most delicate fabric.
And it does this in cool or lukewarm
water, without hot water or boiling, sum
mer or winter.
Do you prefer to supply the dirt
removing energy yourself or to use that
stored up in a cake of Fels-Naptha?
If you choose the easier and better
way, follow directions on the red and
green wrapper.
attentions are not honorable. She has
been well brought up. and the warn
ings of her parents are ringing in her
ears when she meets him.
But he is older, and commands all
the arguments and blandishments need
ed to win the heart of a child. She Is
flattered by his attention. She is
soothed by his praise. She is drugged
almost to the point of unconsciousness
by the little triumph of conquest his
preference gives her.
One’s guardian angels seem to be oft
en lax in their attendance, and I am
sore afraid the guardian angels of this
little girl are forgetting their charge at
a time when their vigil should be most
unceasing.
If her mother knew the heart of the
little girl better, she would not issue a
command, and then rest secure, believ
ing her command could not be dis
obeyed. She would KNOW that the
man who will make love to a girl twen
ty-six years his junior after an ac
quaintance of nine weeks will not let a
mother’s aye or no have any weight.
Not Honorable.
If he were honorable, it would be a
different story'. But the facts in the
case prove he is not.
She would not say’ “You must not" to
her daughter, and then sit back and
fold her hands. She would SEE that
her orders are obeyed.
She would know that the heart of a
girl is willful; that, beginning with the
age of fifteen, girls begin to dream,
and they' mistake many men for the
hero of their dreams before the real
hero appears.
She wouldn't expect a little blind
kitten to heed an order to stay away
from the fire. She would remove It
all proximity to the blaze. And
she .would take as final and decisive
action In saving her daughter.
Mothers often moan after the trage
dy. “I did not dream she would disobey
me.”
If the mother of this misguided little
girl reads this. I hope she will wake up.
“Dreaming" of absolute obedience, and
realizing willful disregard of com
mands, are often the tragic order of
things.
When a mother faces the realization
of the latter, with all its sad results,
she is often more to blame than the
little blind-kitten girl .left in her
charge.
Freaks of Fashion
The Girl With the Monocle
By OLIVETTE.
IF in passing by' a jeweler's window
you happen to see a gold-rimmed
monocle on a jewel studded velvet
ribbon, don't think that it Is the last
whim of fashion for the modern beau.
It is intended for the belle.
A few young women began affecting
monocles 1- winter, and set the fAh
ion for a style that is startling, to say
the least, but which, nevertheless, has
many followers.
Makes Eyes Bigger.
The wearing of a monocle is sup
posed to make the eye bigger. If you
wear your monocle for a long time,
provided, of course, you can keep it in
your eye, you will find that the eye
looks larger and is wider open than its
fellow which does not support the mon
ocle.
The reason for this is because the
effort to keep the monocle in place
makes one stretch tRe muscles around
the eye, and elevate the brow while
keeping the eye open as wide as possi
ble. People are too apt to get about
with half closed eyes, and many a pair
of beautiful orbs lose their expression
and brilliancy from the drooping, heavy
folds of skin which fall over the upper
eyelid. The monocle keeps this skin
stretched, and it is a good eye exercise
to wear one.
While silver and gun metal are the
popular mountings for the monocle, the
eyeglass can be worn without a rim of
any’ kind by the person who is suffi
ciently skillful in keeping it in place.
The main thing about it Is the ribbon,
which should be quite wide and of
grosgrain silk or velvet, ornamented
at intervals with smart! jeweled bars.
For those who object to a monocle, the
new lorgnettes are especially beautiful,
and one need not have poor sight to
indulge in them.
Creates an Impression.
A lorgnette creates an impression
even If there is only window glass in
the eves.
The early fall will see the introduc
tion of a lot of mannish fashions in
dress which will go exceedingly’ well
with the single e-eglass. There is. for
insfanie. e 'irh'f-il little jacket taken
from ””it if ■' Swinish bull fighter, a
p'-i'n ' ’ ''•”1 aTair. cut off just
above >h; - v ’’i"h h"s for its only
' row of silver buttons.
This I?-’ ' ’= in r a plaited
9hl”t < ~ ' ’■> • t "n-fio.wn col
lar of "’ ard a stiff
litt I* < ’ ''l-. A wile black
sa|ln > '"nd th" waist, the
long f ' ’ a' th-- side.
The ■ ’ ’ ' ’■des* ■ -it? a skirt of
(' ' ■>: one. es ;.h- vim- ir. i-
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tas ' 1 ’’v-nn. though tilt
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<•■ lit-;■ ■ ‘.•it ilh a deep, point
ed tur mid- of velvet, satin or
luce, and f mly of al! thee mate-
rials.
A great i'ia! of attention is being
paid to nu-kr.-< t", and many a woman'.-
frocks and coats a:e not as valuable as
a single piece of lace or the combina
tion of laces which she wears around
her throat. A handsome autumn model
of black cloth has the skirt looped up
at the back just below the knees, and a
short train. The bodice is tight fitting,
short waisted, with t he long tleht
sle.rves, which will be fashioned for
simple frocks. The entire front of the
“The Gates of Silence”
By Meta Simmins, Author of “Hushed Up"
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
A Message.
She spoke utterly outside her rights—
Edith was quite aware of that; but she
said nothing, and. carrying her bag, went
out into the gray afternoon that made
more gloomy still the gloomy Pimlico
street. She had not proceeded far west
ward before a man. whom she had no
ticed loitering on the opposite pavement,
crossed the road and offered to carry her
bag.
"I thank you kindly. I'm sure. ' The
landlady, considerably huffed by her
Betty's or on her father's charity.
She thanked him civilly, but declined,
and the man, as though satisfied by the
sound of her voice, by his quick scrutiny
of her veiled face, touched his cap and
spoke again.
"Mrs. Barrington," he said, and at her
quick and quite unmistakable start of
recognition he added: "I have a message
for you from your husband, Mrs. Barring
ton. Will you be kind enough to take It?"
He held a sealed envelope toward her
as he spoke, and. with fingers that trem
bled so that she could scarcely hold the
letter, Edith took It from him, opened it.
and read it there.
“If you care to come home —It is still
your home,” Barrington wrote; and then
other words, In a shaken, scarcely recog
nlzed hand: “Edith, for Heaven's sake,
come home! Our child Is dying!—Tony.”
Standing there in the street with the
roar of London's traffic in her ears, with
the great heart of London throbbing
about her. Edith Barrington looked into
the eyes of Leath, and read in'thelr cold
depths a choice.
Her child or the man In prison—to
whom lay her chief duty? To Jack Rlm
ington, the man she had trapped in her
cowardice to his death, for whom every
minute meant the swift outrunning of the
brief sands of his life—or to the child to
whom she had given birth?
Which path must she choose—which?
Even while she stood hesitating Edith
Barrington knew that in reality there
"Was no question of hesitation She must
go to her child She must go to her
child, even if it were not true—as it
couldn't be true!—that Phil, her little
Phil, was dying. There was an impulse,
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A Style That Is Startling, To Say the Least.
dress is of very fine white embroidered
muslin shirred at the belt, and gath
ered in at the throat under a white lace
bow. The belt is of black satin with p
huge buckle of pale yellow amber.
These enormous buckles in silver,
gilt, semi-precious or artificial stones
such as she had never known before in
all her wayward life, urging her back to
the house she had been such a fool to
leave.
The gray vista of the street came to
her through a mist; her eyes were fixed
eagerly on the face of the man who had
given her the note who, without asking
her permission, had already relieved her
of her bag. but she saw nothing of it.
Her voice trembled when s te spoke.
"In this note Mr. Barrington speaks of
—of—lllness in the. house,” she began, fal
teringly, and the man answered quickly,
saving her the agony of further question
ing:
“Yes: Master Philip is not well." Then,
seeing the terror in her eyes, he added,
soothingly: "But there is no cause for
immediate anxiety, I believe. The seizure
took place this morning."
Edith's heart gave a great bound of re
lief. She caught at the hopeful phrase,
ignoring the word "seizure," with its ugl>
significance where a child is concerned.
Os course there was not Phil was as
strong as a lion and absolutely healthy.
Tony was exaggerating, as he always did
when the child was in question. Exag
gerating! She repeated the word to her
self. an«f found comfort in it. What mat
tered, most was that his first thought had
been for her for his wife ami Phil's
mother. That was a good sign a blessed
sign. After all, perhaps, her Hight had
borne good fruit- Tony had missed her.
"Shall I call a cab?"
The man’s voice recalled her thoughts;
her mind was still a little clouded by
those drug mists. She nodded, and, as
though by prearrangement, a taxi loiter
ing along the center of the street drew
up at the curb. A moment later she was
in the cab, her hag at her feet, leaning
back against the cushions with a sense
of ease to which she had been a stranger
for many days She was going home—
home! Tony needed her—Tony and their
child!
She ran up the steps of the house in
Prince's Gate with the buoyancy of ex
pectancy. A maid, not the butler, opened
the door and looked at her with glad eyes.
"Oh, ma'am," she said, quickly, “you’ve
come In time. We dreaded that you
might be too late."
Mrs. Barrington started at her like a
woman turned to stone. It was true,
then.
“You expected me?” she said, stupidly,
are very much the vogue. In many of
the new models the short walsted ef
fect is retained by the bolero jacket,
while the waist line is lower than it
has been in several years, and marked
with one of these buckles either in
front or at the back.
and could have bitten her tongue out
after the words wore uttered. She
watched the servant’s face.
"Oh, ma’am"
Edith did not wait to hear-the conclu
sion of the sentence. At that moment
the housekeeper crossed the hail, and she
hurried to her.
Mrs. Marlowe's eyes were red as with
much weeping, and her hands trembled
visibly as they rested on the banister for
a moment
"Mrs. Marlowe tell me —tell me every
thing," Edith said, in a low. rapid voiee.
"Phil I -I—had a letter from my hus
band—and the girl who opened the
door”
Iler face was as white as chalk, and
her voice had grown husky and thin, like
the voice of an old woman.
Mrs. Marlowe took her hand and led
her into the library, which was empty.
If she knew' nothing definite of the rupture
between husband and wife, she suspected
something There had been many whis
perings and speculations among the serv
ants during this month's absence.
“The little master, ma'am? Yes, he’s
111. They—they're to know the worst to
day. He caught cold on the journey.”
“The journey? What Journey? A cold?
Oh, thank heaven I thought ft was—l
thought oh. I don’t know what I
thought.” Edjth gasped, fumbling with
the fastenings of her coat, like a woman
fainting for lack of air.
The housekeeper went to her assistance
with trembling hands.
To Be Continued in Next Issue.
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Daysey Mayme and Her Folks
By Frances L. Garside
THE TAX GIRL’S PAY.
THE home of Lysander John Apple
ton is conducted on the pay-as
you-enter plan.
Every' evening when he reaches the
door some one meetq him with out
stretched hand—not to take hts hand,
but to take what is in it.
Sometimes it is the butcher. Some
times it is the baker. Occasionally it
is the gas man, the modern substitute
for the candlestick maker.
But more often It is to meet some
tax that other girls have put on Daysey
Mayme.
One of Daysey’ May ine’s friends an
nounces her engagement. All her girl
friends must come across with engage
ment gifts, kitchen showers and wed
ding gifts.
When babies come, every baby must
be remembered, and as the babies grow
up they accumulate, with teeth and hair
and wisdom, and foolishness, a lot of
anniversaries.
Occasionally some friend’s brother
dies, and Iter girl friends must donate
to a floral anchor, though a rake would
be more a propria te.
But It is always something, for girls
pay a tax on friendship that is greater
than the tax Father pays on his land.
"It seems to me." grumbled Lysander
John the last time an assessment was
made, "that you ought to bet some
thing back for all this you pay.”
Daysey' Mayme looked at him
thoughtfully. His protest had put art
idea in her head; an idea warm enough
to make her hair curl. •
Superfluous Hair
JMHiraefe
Removes It Quickly With Certainty
and Absolute Safety.
The excellence of DeMirimle is too widely known
to need coiiMnent. The specially interesting thing is
that we sell this preparation at smartly reduced prices.
Not for one day, but every day. Yau can buy it at
our toilet goods department at
OUR SPECIAL PRICES
1.00 bottle 79c
2.00 bottle 1.69
The best proof that DeMiraele is the standard
depilatory of the world is that it has stood the test of
time. It was the largest selling depilatory ten years
ago, and more of it is sold today than the combined *
sales of the questionable depilatories.
Chamberlin-Johnson-Dußose Co.
Corner Whitehall and Hunter Sts. ATLANTA, GA.
16
Colorado
Send the Children, and
PF a tch Them Grow
lite cities are merciless, hard and ugly— meant
for nurseries. It is the little ones’ misfortune that you can
not turn them out in the sweet fields and under clean skies
three seasons of the year. But now that school is over, and
the stifling, dusty days and parboiled nights have come, you
must give them a chance. They’re growing, they need
ozone and romping room. Send them to Colorado and
see them blossom into strength. You’ll be surprised how
little it costs.
Any way of going to Colorado is a good way, because it gets
you to Colorado. But the best road is the Rock Island and
the superb trains of the
Rock Island Lines
supply the things you’ll expect to find and some comforting
details of perfect service you’ll not expect.
Through Sleeping Cars From the Southeast
with drawing-rooms and big berths are operated in connec
tion with the Frisco Lines.
The Colorado Flyer — every morning from St. Louis— and othei
fast daily trains from St. Louis, Kansas City, Memphis, Chicago, Omaha
and St. Joseph for Colorado, Yellowstone Park and the Pacific Coast.
Our free booklets “ Under the Turquoise Sky" and * Little Journeys in Colorado'
point the way to summer happiness.
H. H. Hunt, District Pa»»enger Agent
Pryor Street Atlanta, Ga.
Millsk
She would get something back! She
would become engaged herself!
But to whom? She ran over a list of #
the young men she knew and dismissed
ail of them. Not one had a social or
financial rating that would cell for
chests of silver and cut glass.
They were all the kind for whose
bride-elect her frii-nds would
sm-h gifts as huek towels.
She would be a duchess!
True, no dukes were lying around
loose with whom she had speaking ac
quaintance, and all the dukes she read
about in the Sunday papers were mort
gaged to some girl, or foreclos'd.
_ She would invent a duke of her own!
Which explains how It happened the
next morning that Dysander John had
the shock of his life.
He had begun on hi= egg. after hla
usual morning gamble whether the in
terior was like soup or asphalt paving.
“I won," ho chuckled to himself, when
he cracked the shell and found macad- •
am inside.
Then he picked up the morning pa—,
per. A glaring headline on the front'
page over the picture of a fine looking*
man and Daysey' Mayme caught hiatS
eye.
"American Girl Won a Title. The
Engagement Announced of Miss Day- 1
soy Ma vote Appleton. Daughter of Kin
Commissioner General Lysander John)
Appleton, to the Duke De La Cham-"
pleaux.”
Lysander John gasped. He shook that
paper at his daughP r in speechless be-:
wilderment. He stuttered, he glared.'
He tried to speak. He couldn’t.
Thon he slid off his chair to the floor
and knew no more.