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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 i i aJ£ SXJ L-X zX/k.H'lllll c— _zS|Bj x/anty Mg\jr\ J_ DRUDGE V\\) < ■' wjf' : rs \ A ® fl Rr JW b P 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- ■ . >g a,”’’ I. . ■. roba'ol ■ n tas ' 1 ’’v-nn. though tilt VO? ■ ■ I ;.; e> Th hi."? <•■ 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, KA FA gW Ki’- A.,< ? ? sSmbHeub ) F i /lIPSIM wlf y 11. '*&A A ' \i J ® ?'■ r O' Ilii 'A / ; l ■ W sh- \ iii < \ \ wMfvku a I ' 1 —mA i r ' ww / 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. Beautify the Complexion IN TEN DAYS I N a d' no ' a CREAM / \ bnequaled Beautifitr 'I 'l r — n USED AND ENDORSED BY Ls yaKMi THOUSANDS Ijgh.Guaranteed to remove tan > freckles, pimples, liver-spots, etc. Extreme cases twenty days. Rids pores and tissues of impurities. Leaves the skin clear, soft, healthy. Two sizes, 50c. and SI.OO By toilet counters or mail. NATIONAL TOILET COMPANY. Parti. Tm* 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.