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THE GEO MAGAZINE PAGE
“The Gates of Silence”
By Meta Stmmins, Author of "Hushed Up"
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
That the perpetual atmosphere of sus
picion in which they lived, the knowledge
that an immense body of men cringed
before them In a very dreadful and ab
ject servility, conduced to an elevation
of character it would be ridiculous to
pretent Every hour of ids life Riming
ton realized more and more the truth of
what the prison doator hazi told him—
that the one chance of peace in a prison
rested oh the prisoner’s power of abso
lutely renouncing his own will. The si
lent automaton is the man whose good
marks are rarely if ever diminished, un
less, as occasionally happens, the warder
has a personal animus against him.
What he learned to realize more and
more also was that, apart from the amaz
ing Inequalities of the law—by which, for
instance, it is possible for one man to
be sentenced to three years hard labor
for the theft of a watch and chain, while
another, of notoriously evil character,
who has kicked his wife insensible under
circumstances of horrible brutality, is
given as many months —there was a large
proportion of the inhabitants' of a prison
for whom imprisonment was hardly a
punishment at all. far less a deterrent
from crime.
There were men with whom he had
been brought in contact, both at Worm
wood Scrubs and here In Bilmouth, for
whom the prison taint had no existence,
who realized nothing of its shame; men
who frankly enough admitted that, so
far as physical conditions went, they
were better in than out of prison. As he
listened to their talk he realized how It
could be so. For men who bad lived on
the fringe of crime, with no home but
the streets—cadging for free meals at
the various philanthropic institutions—
sleeping out of doors, or, on more pros
perous occasions, in the filthy bunks of
some evil doss house—lt was better from
a material point of view to be where
they were fed and clothed and warmed,
without thought or responsibility. For
such men, Rimington realized, the cap
rices of fate mean very little: the man
who knows nothing of the meaning of
affection feels little penalty in the sever
ance of social ties.
a Rough Philosophy.
One of nls fellow-prisoners in the out
door gang summed the matter up for him
with a rough philosophy. He was a man
who had killed his wife in a tit of homi
cidal mania during an illness, the result
of weeks of privation and want.
“I don't know as I'm caring greatly
for the thought o' the end of my ten
years. I’ve been a cussed sight worser
off than I am ’ere. 'Here, so long's I
be'aves meself. every one's kind to me.
That don't, by no means, foller out there.
An’,” he added, reflectively, "w'en all’s
said an' done, it’s a great thing to get
yer grub reg'lar.”
No, not upon the criminal class, but
upon his own. did the punishment fall
with a terrible and appalling severity.
The fall from freedom to slavery—the
change from the world of beauty to this
work of soulless formalism, this exist
ence which moved frqm the. solitary cell
Wanty
' T
Anty Drudge Invited to Take an
Automobile Ride.
Miss Spic-o-sfpani. joyfully) “Hello, Anty Drudge! Come
take a ride with me!”
Anty Drudge—"My An automobile! How extravagant. ”
Miss Spic-a-span — “No. I earned this with my painting.
And Ido all my own housework. This is washday,
but I was through by 12 o’clock. That Fels-Naptha
. you told me of is like sunshine on a rainy day. Why,
the hanging out is the hardest part of my washing.”
If time is money, Fels-Naptha will save
you money and lots of it every washday.
Perhaps you don’t consider your time
is worth money. But your coal is, and
your clothes are, and you certainly value
your health.
Fels-Naptha saves your coal or other
fuel because it cleanses your clothes in cool
or lukewarm water, with no need for a hot
fire to heat water or boil your clothes,
either in summer or winter.
It saves your clothes because there is
no boiling to weaken their fibre and no
hard rubbing to wear holes in them.
It saves your healtn because it takes all
the back-breaking work out of washday
and removes the danger of catching cold
from overheated room or steaming suds.
Aren’t these things worth saving l ?
If you think so, get Fels-Naptha and
use it according to directions on the red
and green wrapper.
to the tread wheel—perhaps to the ex
hausting labor of the stone quarry, or
the humiliating tasks of the tailor shops
or the sewing rooms—that, in all truth,
was terrible enough. But it was not
the worst—lt was the inner life of the soul
that must be lived during the lonely,
unoccupied hours, when the dim light
that was almost a mockery flickered out
side the corridor window, and, innocent
or guilty, one stumbled along a via dolo
rosa. scourged by one's own bitter
thoughts. *
There were nights when his narrow cell
became for Jack Rimington a battle field
of passion whose very existence he had
hardly suspected; when everything slipped
from his —his belief in the justice of
heaven or man. his faith in man or wom
an. Nights when even Betty seemed
false to the very core—nights when his
imagination tortured him with a hundred
pictures In which he saw the life he had
left as through a distorting glass—Betty’
and Paul Saxe and the murdered man
treading the. measure of a dance of death
for which he was the victim.
A Daring Thought.
It was after one of the nights that had
left him racked and spent, like a man
recovering from some dire illness, utterly’
unfit to go out with his gang into the bit
ter, biting air to the rough work of stone
casting and carrying, that, at his strong
est, taxed his resources to the uttermost,
that the thought of escape came to Rim
ington.
He had fallen asleep toward morning—
an uneasy sleep, more full of pain and
fear than even those long, bitter, wake
ful hours had been—broken by ugly, and
for the most part formless, dreams. Only
one remained in his memory; he had
awakened from it with a.cry on his lips
and a strange certainty in his mind that
he had heard his own name called aloud
in the silence of his cell—his own name
and nothing more. "Jack!" and again
"Jack!” But it was Betty's voice that
had called —Betty’s voice in the extremity
of fear and anguish.
The dream was brief and of the slight
est to cause the impression that it did
on the man's mind; an impression that
be could not shake off. that gave strength
and coherence to his idea of his escape
that a week ago—yesterday, perhaps—
would have seemed to him the suggestion
of madness.
To escape from Bilmouth! To attempt
to escape in January, with snow coming
for a certainty from those gray skies
which hung so low and sullen over the
moor'
‘Just this his dream: A long, white
country road winding up and disappear
ing over the brow of a hill, a road edged
with Wide, grassy borders golden with
buttercups, and on the roadway the flying
figure of a girl—Betty. The face was to
ward him, and he could see the look of
piteous fear upon it as she ran W’ith out
stretched hands, and behind her, leaping
and running oddly, a black shape of fear
to which his waking thoughts could give
no name, but which, even now, he real
ized to be something unspeakably evil and
menacing.
To Be Continued in Next Issue.
Beauty Secrets of Footlight Favorites
The Value of Mental Concentration
By JANE WARRINGTON. -
WHEN I was asked to give my
secret of beauty I had that
same nervous, creeping feeling
one gets on opening nights, when one
is not sure of one's part, because, alas!
deat reader, I have no beauty secret.
Every girl on the stage possesses
some degree of good looks, but most of
us have sense enough not to pose as
great beauties. At least, we don't do
that to ourselves. As far as I can see.
the very great beauties are women who
have worked at being beautiful for a
long time. Take Gaby Deslys, for in
stance. She certainly makes a business
of being beautiful, and now that I have
begun to think about the matter, "1
may try to do so myself, and in five or
ten years I will have secrets of beauty,
but up to now, like Topsy, "I just
g rowed.”
Not having any secrets of my own. I
shall tell you those of a woman I was
talking to in the basement of a great
big department store the other day.
She was demonstrating some sort of a
toaster that she had Invented herself,
and she was a very handsome looking
woman, who might have been 35 or so.
She had a good figure, black hair, nat
ural; fine black eyes, and a full round
face with not a wt inkle on it. I had
been buying make-up for the stage, and
dropped the bundle in front of her
stand. The paper burst, and all the
things fell out. She was very nice, and
helped me pick them up and wrapped
them up again, and that is how we got
into conversation about beauty, be
cause all the things in the package
were to make me look better on the
stage.
"These things.” said the demonstrator
of the toasting machine, as she looked
at me with a smile, pointing to the
rouge and the eyelash pencil, “these
things will never make one beautiful,
though they do create the illusion of
beauty from the other side of the foot
lights.
The Secret.
"If you want to be beautiful, you
must think beauty, you must WILL
yourself to be beautiful.” (
When she said this her eyes flashed,
and she spoke exactly as if she were
on the stage acting the leading lady.
I got interested because she felt so
keenly on the subject, and I knew’ that
I would have to write this article for
you, so I thought I would get some
notes.
How do you THINK yourself beau
tiful. and how do you WILL yourself
to be beautiful if you are not?”
"1 h; vo v filed mvself to be beautiful
'"'me I was a girl of your age,” said
.«• tjes'-b-man. “But I was not a
■ :• girl.' like you. (I put that in
>"se that is what she said, though
m't want to flatter myself.)"
■•'■e went on:
I was a plain, awkward, ugly girl,
with eyes too big for my face, and a
lolnh that was just a slit, hollow
cheeks and an undeveloped figure, but
1 adored beauty. 1 wanted to be beau
tiful more than anything else In the
world, and I determined that I would
be as nearly beautiful as a person with
my limitations could be.”
"Please tell me just how you began,”
1 questioned her, and wished I had
notebook like a regular reporter.
"To begin with, I studied the people
that I met. picking out those who were
the best looking, and 1 tried to find out
what their secret was. In almost every
case the best looking women were the
healthiest and the happiest. They led
normal busy lives, they kept their
minds occupied with pleasant thoughts,
Up-to-Date Jokes
They were decorating the parish
church for a certain festival, when the
vicar happened to come in. Seeing
some tacks lying about the pulpit, he
remarked to his daughter, who had ap
parently been using them:
"Don't leave those tacks lying about,
Katie. What would happen if I step
ped on one in the middle of the ser
mon ?”
"Well.” exclaimed Katie. "there
would be one point you wouldn't linger
on."
A professor one day objected to a
candidate for graduation (who was a
native of Ceylon) on the ground of
false spelling
"Why.” he said, "he actually spelled
'exceed' with one 'e.' ”
"Oh," replied the candidate's sup
porter, “you should remember that he
came from the land of the Cingal-ese."
•The joke saved the candidate.
Magistrate—Are you aware of miti
gating circumstances in your case?
Criminal —Yes, your worship; this is
the fiftieth time 1 have been arrested
for vagrancy, and I thought that per
haps we might get up a little jubilee.
"Sam Johnson, you've been fightin’
agin. Youse lost two of yo' front
teeth."
"No. I ain't, mammy, honest. I'se got
’em in me pocket."
“So you don't care for chess?"
“Not much. It's annoying to be wak
ened every time you drop into a nice
nap merely to be told that it is your
move.”
A missionary writes from the Fiji
Islands as follows:
“(fur small force of brothers seem to
be absolutely unable to cope with the
distress which prevails in this dark and
benighted land. Many of the natives
are starving for food. Flease send a
law more misaiuiuwiea.”
Miss Jane J |
Warrington,
Wittsoino
Widow" F
1 J
company). ■'s
Jik *
I wW > J
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/ / ' •«*»*» I —'
W A',.: «5
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■ Lal mMRa \
and they did not do any of the things
which are destructive to beauty, as I
■ found out later.
“These destructive things are often
taken up as fads. One of them is prev
alent Just now among women of a cer
tain set. That is smoking Hundreds
and hundreds of women and young
girls'smoke without realizing that this
vicious habit will rob them of every
vestige of good looks. Another thing
that destroys your beauty is alcohol in
any form at all. A third is gossiping
and malicious and unkind thoughts o!
other people.
"A fourth is uneleanlineSs, either
mental or physical. A fifth is laziness,
also mental or physical. If you want
to be good looking you must work.
While you are very young you work to
enhance the qualities which nature has
given you; later on you must work even
harder to keep these gifts from rusting
and deteriorating. The woman who
lets herself get hideously fat—unless it
is a disease, as It frequently is—is lazj
The woman who is mentally indolent
CRITICAL TIME
SF WOMAN’S LIFE
From 40 to 50 Years of Age,
How It May Ee Passed
in Safety.
Odd, Va.“l am enjoying better
health than I have for 20 years, and I
believe I can safely
say now that I am a
well woman. I was
reared on a farm and
had all kindsof heavy
work to do which
caused the troubles !
that came on me la- ;
ter. For five years I
during the Change of I
Life I was not able !
to lift a pail of wa- i
ter. I had hemor- •
'\X
I rhages which would last for weeks and I
1 was not able to sit up in bed. I suffered ,
a great deal with my back and was so ■
nervous I could scarcely sleep at night,
and I did not do any housework for three
years.
“Now I can do as much work as
any woman of my age in the county,
thanks to the benefit I have received
from Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable
j Compound. 1 recommend your remedies
i to all suffering women.”—Mrs. Martha
L. Holloway, Odd, Va.
No other medicine for woman’s ills has
received such wide-spread and unquali
fied endorsement. We know of no other
medicine which has such a record of
success as has Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable Compound. For more than 30
years it has been the standard remedy
for woman’s ills.
If yon have the slightest doubt
that Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegeta
ble Compound will help you. write
to Lydia E.Pinkham Medicine Co.
(confidential) Lynn. Mass., for ad
vice. Your letter will be opened,
read and answered by a woman,
and held in aUivL cvutidvucc. |
rnui have beautiful features and a goo !
complexion, but she can not, figure
among those women whom 1 call beau
tiful. who combine mental and physical
gifts, which interest and charm every
one.
"For myself, I have never let myself
get lazy. My work is comparatively
humble, though I have invented this
little machine which is making me
fairly well-to-do. Shall I tell you how
old 1 am? Almost old enough to be
your grandmother. I am 55 years of
age.”
Well. 1 was struck dumb, for I would
have said 35, and not a day more, and
you know we get to be good judges of
age on the stage. I think her secrets in
beauty are worth remembering. I am
going to remember them, and put them
to use, and perhaps when I am 55 I will
look as young and attractive as she
does, and will have a healthy, trim fig
ure- and a face free from lines.
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It’s a Hard Life
And There's No Use Denying It
Ry WEX JONES.
SO far as my observation of jobs
goes, the principal tiling about
them is that they last remarkably
quick.
One job is. a stepping stone to an
other. I just ge time for two steps.
I step in and I step out.
Sometimes I don't even get a chance
to step out —-I'lll lilted out.
I However, this holders on philosophy
I or something of that kind, and the auto
| biography of Thomas Turtmoe must
| deal witli action rather than thought.
After my job with tile hypnotist, a
I job for which I received nothing but
ridicule and five days on the stone
pile. I was out in the cold world again
Tiie summer was going fast and it
looked as if I wouldn't get any suinmet
job until December, if then. So 1 hus
tled around for all I i.as worth. Every
body I met I asked for a job. and
finally one old fellow looked at me in
an earnest manner and remarked:
"You're not much on looks, but 1 sup
: pose I'll have to take the best I can
| get. Yes. young man. 1 will give you a
I position. You will have free board in
my .summer hotel, free laundry anti all
• hat, and ten dollars a week.”
“Sounds good,” said 1. “What do 1
have to do?'
"Nothing." replied the ol<! chap.
“Sounds great.” said I. "but why of
fer all this to me?"
"I have no summer man at my ho
tel," the old man replied. "All girls,
and scores of 'em. You're to be the
man. They’ll try to flirt with you. but
.there’s so many of 'em that you can't
get seriously compromised. Otherwise
I shouldn't think of asking a young
fellow to take the job."
1 couldn't get up to the Hot4l Ther
mometer quick enough. All the way up
in the train I had visions of black
haired girls, brown-haired girls, golden
crested girls and all kinds of girls, all
crowding around me on the hotel piazza.
One of them would beg me to go ca
noeing; another would want me to play
tennis—it was an enticing picture.
I got to the Thermometer after din
ner that evening and went straight to
my room, not however, without catch
ing a glimpse (,f a flock of girls dane-
a j**'-Z- .
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phone door to the h nod rede of housewives who shop
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The telephone is the star-salesman, the order-efteek
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Bell service is not “expense"—ft's "investment,*’ and E
you can’t afford to be without it any longer.
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xWJI
ing in couples on the piazza. "They’lP',
tear me in pieces between 'em,” I■
thought to myself, "if I ever ventursi
into one of their dances. Each one
will want me for a partner.
That evening I could hear two sil- j
very voices chattering across the cor
ridor.
What do you think, Sylvia?" said |
one voice. "A man came tonight."
Pooh, 1 knew that before he’djeft
tiie station." responded the other voice,
"I'm going to capture him. too.”
Aly- dreams that night were filled with i
delightful visions of sparkling eyes and
rosy cheeks. I was the star in a gar- ‘
den of girls.
Next morning I arose and dressed
myself very carefully. 1 went down to
breakfast. All eyes were upon me dur
ing the meal and despite my savolr i
faire and general all-around savvy I
couldn't help blushing. In fact, I 1
blushed so much I thought I would
burn my clothes off.
After breakfast I went out on the,
piazza. I was all ready for the nush. '
There was a little blue-eyed girl that
I hoped would lead it.
Five minutes went by, but nobody
etime my way. “I must give them a i
little time to muster up 'courage,’ ” I
thought.
To make a long story short..! sat on ’
the piazza all morning, and ‘the onlyt
person who spoke to me wsus an old!
lady who came up and asked, me whatl
I meant by taking her chair.
Next day it was the same.
I thought I looked too austere, per. J
haps, so next day I smiled winningly;
at several groups. They all got up and J
moved around to the other side of the!
hotel.
That night I dreamed J was marooned
on a desert island, where ships passed!
every minute without paying any heed ,
to my signals of distress.
The next morning people began tw’
leave the hotel.
The next day the proprietor tele
graphed me that he would give me ISO I
to leave his hotel immediately, before
his summer trade was ruined.
The next day I left.
Later 1 found out that a rumor had
spread through the hotel that I was a
detective sent up to gather evidence,
by the Anti-Turkey Trot society.