Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

How Girls May Get Work A RAMBLE WITH EULOGIA A Lotc Story of the Old Spanish Miss'ors By Gertrude Atherton ELLA WHEELER WILCOX: By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. What’s Gone Before Don’t spend all your time think ing about dress, but for goodness sake don’t go about looking like a frump. A man is twice as ready to listen to a girl’s application for work if she looks pleasant and d esses neatly.— BEATRICE-FAI R- FAX. T HE other day 1 met a young: wom an who was looking: for em ployment. She complained of having a very hard time in finding anything, and as I looked at her I did not wonder that she had a hard time. Such a doleful face you never saw. No man would ever want so mu?h dolefulness facing him every day. She made not the slightes attempt to beautify herself in any way. Her clothes looked as though she flung them at herself. Her hair was dressed 1n the most unbecoming manner pos sible, and altogether she was an un attractive looking piece of girlhood. If I had had the time to talk to her, I would have said: “My dear, you never in the world will get a job while you look as you do now. Perk up a little bit, look cheerful, dress yourself decently and then try again." Rear this in mind, girls—don’t spend all your time thinking about dress, but for goodness sake don’t go about looking like frumps. A man is twice as ready to listen to a girl’s application for work if she looks pleasant and drosses neatly and becomingly. Men can’t stand doleful women. They like brightness and cheerfulness. The girl who always appears willing to attempt whatever work is set be fore her i Under the influence of the romances I of Dumas, Eulogia Is in love with .loan The match, however, does not receive the approval of Dona Pom posa. who, while Juan Is serenading her daughter, pours hot ashes upon his head. This drives him away and Eulogia promises that she will have no more sweethearts until she is six teen years of age. When her sixteenth birthday ar rives Eulogia is taken to a party by her mother and there meets Don Pablo Ignestria, who she at first dis dains but later asks to return to her city after he has been called away. While she awaits anxiously his ar rival she bears that he has been mar ried to a former sweetheart. Her mother then urges her to marry Don Hudson, the rich Americ an, but Eulo gia demurs, saying that nothing is known of him and that she does not like him. She has gathered much wisdom from the reading of Dumas, and as she applies this to Don Hud son, her mother is angry. Now Go on With the Story. bound to get on. There is no use in sulking and look ing abused whenever you are asked to do extra work. If the request only conies once in a while, it won’t hurt you a hit. When you apply for a position, don’t brag of what you can do. State your accomplishments in a straightforward, modest way, and .^how that you are willing to do your best If you get the chance. A girl will often be employed sim ply because she looks willing and bright. An employer knows that a cheerful employee has a good effect on her fellow' workers. Don’t start out looking as though you had not a friend on earth, but put on your neatest dress and your bright est look, and see if you don’t find it easy to And work. Like a Motor Car. LARGE German woman held \ LARGE German woman held uji long line of people at the money order window in a post ofNce the other day, and all because her memory had failed Who warned to send some money to her son, a sailor on a merchant steamer then in foreign waters, but when she presented the application at the window the elerk noticed that the address was larking. “Well, where do you want to send it ?’’ he asked. "We can’t give you the money order ynless you know the name of the place." "Yah, dot’s de trouble." she replied. “I didn’t pring his letter, and I can't remember der name of der town, hut It's some place out of China dot sounds like der noise a inoior ear makes." The two clerks looked at each other dubiously. "What kind of a noise does a motor car make?" asked one. "HoitK, honk!” suggested the other. “Yah, dot’s it!” exclaimed the woman " 'Honk konk," dot’s de place!" "Fill it in Hong Kong," said the clerk; and she paid over her money. TODAY’S INSTALLMENT “I fear to break it, senor, for I have faith that It is made of thin glass. It would cut my feet I like better the smooth floor. Who is that standing by ihe window? He has not danced to night 7” "Don Pablo Ignestria. of Monterey. He says that the women of San Luis are not half bo beaiftifu! or so elegant as the women of Monterey; he says they are too dark and too small. He does nol wish to dance wiih anyone; nor do any of the gtrlfi wish to dance with him They are very angry." “I wish to dance with him. Bring him to me." "But, senorita. I tell thee Thou wouldst not likp him. Why do those eyes flash so? Thou lookest as if thou wouldst tight with thy little fists." Don Carmelo walked obediently over to Don Pablo, although burning with Jealousy. "Senor, at your service." he said. “I wish to introduce you to the mosi charming senorita in the sala." “Which?" asked Ignestria. incurious ly. He Was Handsome. Don Carmelo indicated Eulogia with a grand sweep of his hand. "That little thing? Why, there are a dozen prettier girls in the sala than she, and 1 have not cared to meet any of them." "But she has commanded me to take you to her, senor. and—look at the men crowding about her! Do you think I dare disobey?” The stranger's dark eyes became less Insensible. He was a handsome man, with his tall figure and smooth, strong face, hut about him hung the indolence of the Californian. "Very well." he said, “take me to her." He asked her to dance, and after a waltz Eulogia said she^was tired and they sai down within a proper dis tance of Dona Pomposa’s eagle eye. “What do you think of the women of San Luis Obispo?" Eulogia asked Inno cently. "Are they not handsome?" "They are not to be compared with the women of Monterey since you ask me." “Because they find the men of San Luis more gallant than the Senor Don Pablo Ignestria!" "Do they? One, 1 believe, asked to have me introduced to her!" "True, senor. I wished to meet you, that the ladies of San Luis might have their vengeance." He stared at her. "Truly, senorita, hut you do not hide your cards. And why, then, should I fall in love with you?” She sat in the deep window seat watching the waves of the Pacific hurl themselves against the cliffs. “Because 1 am omen of Montferey. Afferent from the “And If I Hate You?” GOOD reason why I should “A no,° D ^ town reason I have been in every in California, and 1 ad mire no women but those of my city." "And because you will hate me first." "And if I hale you how can I love you?" * It is the same. You hale one woman and love another. Each is the same passion, only to a different person. Let the person loved or hated change his nature, and the passion will change " He looked at her .with more interest "In truth, I think I shall begin with love and end with hate, senorita. But that wisdom was not horn in that little head, for sixteen years, l think, have not sped over it no? It went in. if I mistake not. through those bright eyes." “Yes, senor, that is trite. I am not content to ho just like other girls of sixteen. I want to know to know! Have you ever read any books, senor?” “Many." He looked at her with a very lively interest now. “What ones have you read?" "Only the beautiful romances of the Senor Dumas. I have seen no others, for there are not many hooks in San Luis. Have you read others?" “A great many others. Two wonder ful Spanish books—‘Don Quixote do k- Mancha’ and ‘Gil Bias,' and the ro of sir England, and rita. A great the greatest Walter Scott a man of some famous man, seno- man lent them to me— »f our governors—Alva rado. Get The Syrup Habit— It’s Good For You Velva Syrup Is more than a mere sweet. It’s a fine, wholesome, health ful food. It’s |ust what growing children need — and it’s good (or grown-ups, loo. Earnest, careful scientists have long ago exploded the mossy idea that sweets are harmful — and they tell you that sweets are necessary. You’ll !ind the syrup with the RED LABEL, fine. It has the smoothest of sugary flavor and rich color. It makes candies, fudge, cakes and cookies that just melt In one’s mouth. It goes great with griddle cakes and It will make your good muffins, waffles and biscuits better. Try it and see if this isn’t so. Ten cents and up, according to size. Velva In the green can, too, at your grocer’s. Send for the book of Velva recipes. No charge. PENICK & FORD, Ltd. New Orleans, La. VELVA NUT ICE CREAM 3-4 cupful Red Velva Syrup, 2 cupfuls scalded milk, I tablespoon ful flour, 1-4 cupful sugar, I egg, pinch of salt. 2 Quarts cream, I cupful chopped English walnut 1 meats, I teaspoonful almond extract, 1* teaspoonful rose extract. Beat up the egg uiitA the flour and sugar, and gradually add the milk. Cook for 20 minutes in a double boiler, stirring con stantly. Cool and add the eyrup, salt, nuts, cream and the extracts, and freeze. Serve in dainty dishes with a preserved cherry an top of each. Ksfl Or fj * I * —« *«= playing | and M 1 ppe will “And you will lend them to me?” cried Eulogia, forgetting her coquetry. “I want to read them." Her Eyes Make Him Consent. “Aha! Those cool eyes can flash. That even little voice can break in two. Thoti shalt have every hook 1 possess.” “M ill the Senorita Dona Eulogia favor us with a song?" Don Carmelo was bowing before her, a guitar in his hand, his wrathful eyes fixed upon Don Pablo. "Yes,” said Eulogia. She took the guitar and sang a love song in a manner which can best he described as no manner at all—her ex pression never changed, her voice never warmed. At first the effect was flat, thert the subtle fascination of it grew until the very memory of impassioned tones seemed florid and surfeiting. When she finished lgnesiria's heart was hammering upon the steel In which he had prisoned it. "Well,” said Eulogia to Padre Moraga tw<» weeks later, "An I not la favorita?” "Thou art. thou little coquette. Thou hast the power over men which thou must use with discretion, my Eulogia. Tell thy heads three times a day and pray that mayest do no "I wish to do harm, w* fiather, for men have broken the hea»rts of women for ages ” Chut, chut, thou baby! Men are not so black as they are painted. Harm no one and the world will be better the* tliou hast lived in it." “If r scratch 'fewer women will be scratched," and she raised her shoulders beneath the flowered muslin of her gown, swung her guitar under her arm and walked down-the grove, the silver leaves shining above her hair. The padre had bidden all the young people of the upper class to a picnic in the old mission garden. Girls in gay muslins and silk rebosas were sitting beneath the arches of the corridor or flitting under the trees where the yel low apricots hung among the green leaves. Languid and sparkling faces coquetted with caballeros in bright cali co jackets and knee breeches laced with silken cord, tHeir slender waist girthed with long sashes, hanging gracefully over the hip. The water rippled in a winding creek, the birds caroled in thl trees: but above all rose the sound of light laughter and sweet, strong voices. They took their dinner behind the arches at a table the length of the corridor, and two of the young men played the guitar and sang while the others delighted their keen palates with the goods the padre had provided. “Shall I Return?” Don Pablo sat by Eulogia, a place he managed to fill very often; but he had never seen her for a moment alone. "I must go soon, Eulogia.*' he mur mured. as the voices waxed louder. "Duty calls me back to Monterey." "I am glad to know that thou hast a sense of thy duty.” "Nothing but that would take me away from San Luis Obispo. But both my mother and—and—a dear friend are ill and wish to see me.” "Thou must go to-night. How canst thou eat and be gay when thy mother and—and—a dear friend are ill?’* "Ay, Eulogia! Wouldst thou scoff over my grave? I go, hut it is for thee to say if I return.” "Do not tell me that thou adorest me here at the table. I shall blush, and all will be about my smarting ears like the bees down in the padre's hive.” “I shall not tell thee that before all ihe w’orld. Eulogia, all I ask is this little favor: I shalf send thee a letter the night I leave. Promise me that thou wlK mower it—to Monterey.” "No, sir! Long ago. when I w*as twelve, I made a vow I would ©never write to a man. I never shall break that vow." "Thou wilt break it for me, Eulogia." "And why for you, senor? Half the trouble In the world has been made oh paper.” "Oh, thou wise one! What trouble can a piece of paper make when it lies on a man’s heart?" “It can crackle when another head lies on it.” "No head wfill never lie here but” "Mine?” “Eulogia!” "To thee. Senorita Dona Elogia." cried a deep voice. "May the jewels in thine eyes shine by the stars when thou art above them while they shine for us below." and a caballero pushed back in his chair, leaned forward and touch ed her glass with his, then went down on one knee and drank the red wine. Eulogia threw him a little absent smile, sipped her wine, and went on talking to Ignestria in her soft, monot onous voice. "My friend—Graciosa la Cruz went a few weeks ago to Monterey for a visit. You will tell her I think of her — no?" LETTERS TO GIRLS As Stubborn as Pretty. "I will dance with ner often because she is your friend—until I return to San Luis Obispo." "Will that be soon, senor?' 4 * "I told thee that would he as soon as thou wished. Thou wilt answer my let ter-promise me, Eulogia.” “I will not, senor. I intend to be wiser lhan other women. At the very least my follies shall not burn paper. If thou wantest an answer thou wilt re turn." "I will not return without that an swer I can never see thee alone, and if I could any coquetry would not give me a plaint answer. I must see it on paper before I will believe." “Thou canst w’ait for the day of resur rection for thy knowledge, then!” This Is Ntun her III in the Series and Is Ad dressed to a Girl Who Is Sorry jor Herself. By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. (Copyright, 1913, by Journal-American- Kxuininer.) T O NCE more Auni Anastacia rolled her large figure through Eulogia’s way and handed her a letter. "From Don Pablo Ignestria, my baby," she said. "Oh, what a man! What a ca- baliero! And so smart! He waited an hour by the creek in ihe mission gardens until he saw thy mother go out. and then he brought the note to me. He begged to see thee, but I dared not grant that, for thy mother will be back in ten min utes.” “Go down stairs and keep my mother there," commanded Eulogia, and Aunt Anastacia rolled off. while her niece with unwonted nervousness opened the letter. "Sweet of my soul! Star of my life! I dare not speak to thee of love, be cause, strong man as I am, still am I a coward before those mocking eyes. Therefore, if thou laugh the first time thou readest that I love thee, I shall not see it, and the second time thou mayest be more kind. “Beautiful and idolized Eulogia. men have loved thee, but never will be cast at thy little feet a heart stronger or truer than mine. Aye, dueno adorado! 1 love thee without hope? No; I believe that thou lovest me, thou cold little one, although thou dost not like to think that thy heart thou hast sealed can open to let love in. But, Eulogia, star of my eyes! I love thee so that I will break that heart in pieces, and give thee another so soft and warm that it will he all through the old house to which I will take thee. For thou wilt come to me, thou little coquette! Thou wilt write to me to come back and stand with thee in the mission while the good padre asks the saints to bless us? Eulogia! Thou hast sworn thou wilt write to no man, but thou wilt write to me, my little one. Thou wilt not break the heart that livea in thine. I kiss thy little feet. 1 kiss thj» tiny hands. I kiss—ay, Eulogia! Adiosf Adi os! PABLO.” She Tells Him to Come. Eulogia could not resist that letter. Her scruples vanished, and, after an en tire day of agonizing composition, she sent these lines: "You can come back to San Luis Obispo. "EULOGIA AMATA FRANCISCA GUADALUPE YBARRO." Another year passed. No answer came from Pablo Ignestria. Nor did he return to San Luis Obispo. Two months after Eulogia had sent her letter she received one from Grociosa la Cruz, containing the information that Ignestria had married the invalid girl whose love for him w r as the talk of Monterey for many years. And Eulogia? Her flirtations earned her far and wide the title of Dona Coquet- ta, and she was cooler, calmer and more audacious than ever. To Be Continued To-morrow. NUMBER IH. O A GIRL who is sorry for him self : Your letter shows me not how badly Fate treats you, but how' badly you are treating yourself. You are standing outside of your self. and making a mental picture of misery and neglect, and sorrow, of loneliness and heart hunger—and weeping over it. That is the easiest and the weakest thing a mortal can do. I doubt if a human being lives, no matter how seemingly fortunate and to be envied, who could .not find a whole chapter of miseries to mourn over, if he or she chose to turn over the leaves of life’s book to that par ticular page. In every life there is always some thing which might be bettered. One person likes his environments, but hates his occupation; another likes his work, but dislikes his envi ronment; one wants the city; another wants the country; and so on ad in finitum. You feel you are particularly un fortunate in not having a harmonious home; in not having more compan ionship with people who are con genial, and, in having a great many material w'orries. Life a Serious Thing. You carry always a face of sorrow and a look of sadness; and you tell me life grows more and more a very serious thing to you. You are meantime forgetting that you are blest with health; that you are in possession of all your faculties; that you are not crippled or bedrid den; and that you are pursuing an occupation which you like. You breathe good fresh air in your home; you are not shut up in a tene ment house; you are not confined in a factory all day; and you are not starved for good food. Why, my dear girl, with such a list of things which could make life hard indeed for one left out of what fate gives you, it seems to me your days should be one paean of thanks to God. and one prayer for voice and words to praise Him for His manifold bless ings. In the same post with your letter came one from a girl who is totally deaf; and who has lost both loWer limbs; and she writes me that she has had a very pleasant time, enjoy ing the outdoor life and the kind attention of good friends; and that she has been studying and growing. Does not that make you ashamed of yourself? It ought to. Try for Harmony. An inharmonious home is indeed a great trouble; but the only thing for one to do who suffers from such a cause is to BE ONE NOTE OF HAR MONY IN THE RECORDS. Speak the silent word of love to each member of the family; say “Peace, Be Still" to the troubled do mestic ocean, and by every thought, word and act set the. example of harmony. Miracles have been wrought by one loving, patient soul in a home of many wrangling minds. Refuse to quarrel; refuse to be sul len; refuse to be sarcastic; and by the example of love and kindness, and good cheer, shame the other members of the household into better be havior. Then, if they continue to he dis agreeable, speak the word of FREE DOM to your own soul; and picture to yourself a life apart from the fam ily. It will come to you if you live in a way deserving of this freedom. It will come either by a change in Hie people who make the discoid or in your change to other surroundings. It tan never come while you are pitying yourself. Self Pity is Weakness. Self-pity is weakness and a waste of mental force. It is a great weakness of character to continually crave pity and sym pathy; and to want people to be sorry for you. Just as well might every pupil who is given a lesson ask all the teachers j and all the other scholars to be "sorry," and bestow sympathy. We are placed in this world where our actions and thoughts in other lives direct our path; and we are ; here to build character and learn the power which lies in our minds to change present conditions and shape | a better future. We can never do this by con- I stantly mourning ovef our situation. For such feelings waste our energies and prevent constructive processes of thought. Thank God for Trouble. Begin right now, to-day, my dear girl, to thank God for whatever has come to you; thank Him for troubl© and sorrow; and ask Him to show you the way to transmute these things into a strong, helpful, charac ter; and to give you the power to work up, and out. of all conditions which are distasteful to you. This ! is your work; and you alone can do it. Then look about you for things to rejoice over; and think and talk of these; and allow no one to be sorry for you. Stand before your mirror and laugh every duy for five minutes; and w'hen you feel the corners of your mouth turning down bring them UP—and laugh again. And before very long you will dis cover that you are no longer to be pitied, but to he congratulated. For you will have made a new heaven and a new earth for your self. Germany, according to the religious statistics of the Empire, has an increas ing number of persons without any re ligious profession. The* number has grown from 17,000 in 1907 to nearly 306,000. Astronomical observations were car ried on in China so long a* tha year 2352 B. C. Suffrage was granted to women in the Commonwealth of Australia in 1902. The average strength of a woman compared with that of a man is as 67 to 100. Served Him Right. * "I atn the unlucklest man a^ive!” “What’s the matter?" “Why, I heard that Muriel was en gaged, so I went round, and proposed t<* a her, so that she wouldn’t think 1 had been trifling with her.” “And wasn’t she engaged?” "Yes; but she broke it off. She said my love was more sincere than the other fellow’s." Up-to-Date Jokes <• V* C T Vv.. ' TV/TR. CLOSELY (snappishly)—I be- ■*■*•*■ lleve you’d stand before a mirror all day doing nothing but changing your dresses. Mrs. Closely (dreamily)—Perhaps I would if I had the dresses. Clara—I have been to the theater every' night this week, and had a dif ferent escort each time. Fred—You should be more cautious, my dear Miss Clara. Clara—Cautious? Fred—Yes; or ill-natured people will be saying that you can’t, get the same man to go with you twice. Strengthening Food tor Hard Workers A Foxy Farmer’s Fortune By MALtOLM DOUGLAS. dtiT ENS." said old Farmer Biggs, "is the stubbornest thipgs I raise; “ They set, an’ set, an’ set, until they’re sot in their ways; They ain’t got watches to tell the time, but know when the day’s begun ^ When the rooster with his Tir-ruh-huh-huh!’ keeps hollerin’ at the sun. "Hen’s has a Labor Union which says that a hen kin lay Jest one egg fur her boss, an’ only one egg a day; An’ there’s strikes an’ there’s agitations that start along in the fall. An’ hens that’s out on a strike don’t lay any eggs at all. "But I’ve hit on a leetle ijee that acts on ’em like a charm. An’ eggs is the biggest profit I’m gittin’ now- from the farm; \\ hile neighbors o’ mine’s complainin’ that eggs with ’em is skeerse. My foolish, deluded pullets is layin’ ’em somethin’ fierce. "I've painted my 'henhouse ceilin’ to make it look like the sky. With a great big ’lectric sun a-glimerin’ up on high: I’ve shet out the light completely. a n \ jest by pullin’ a switch. I kin have it as bright as noonday or make it as black as pitch. s "When the hens has finished a-layin’ I turn off the ’lectric light. An’ up they hop to the’r roost, a'-s’posin’, of course, it’s night: s Then 1 turn on the sun ag’in. an’ they git the cramp from their legs, s An’, thinkin* another day’s come, they start in a-layin’ eggs. \n’ it's on the nests, an’ ft’s off ag’in. an’ on. an’ off ag’in; Th< m liens o' mine is good Union hens, but I’m workin’ ’em all like sin; J When neighbors ain't gittin’ a single egg. why, each o’ my hens wtll lay With me a’bosgirT the job as high as seventy eggs a day!" PtHV 18.1 | ■ a’bosJin’ www»L~' “Mother,” said an exasperated young lady, "I wish you would not hang That old parrot up in the parlor.” “Why not, my dear?” asked her mother. "Why, I think he must have belonged to a street car conductor before you bought him. Every two or three minutes when Edwin is here he chirps out, ‘Sit closer, please.’ It Is too embarrassing for anything.” A Sunday school teacher had just told the story of Dives and Lazarus to his class, and at the close of the lesson he asked: "Now. boys, which would you prefer to be?” On© smart lad replied quickly. "I'd like to be the rich man while I lived and Lazarus when I am dead.” "Why, the size of your bill,” cried the angry patient to the doctor, “makes me boil all over!” "Ah!” said the eminent practioner, calmly, “that will be two guineas more for sterilizing your system." "I want you to understand that I got my money by hard work.’’ “Why, I thought -it was left you by your uncle." "So it was; but 1 had hard work getting it away from the lawyers," Hewitt—Gruet has lost all his money. Jewett—But I thought he was a Napoleon of finance HewJtt—He was, but he met a Wel lington. What relation are you to the pris oner?" asked the magistrate of the witness Next-door neighbor, sir," was the ssmuy It isn’t necessary to eat a lot of meat to nourish and sustain your body. It is a positive fact— ask your doctor—that there is more real nutrition in a 5c pack age of Faust Macaroni than in 2 lbs. of beef at 12 times that price. You get more nutrition—better eating—cheaper living when you eat 1VIA.CA.ROIV I Made from Durum wheat, a cereal extremely rich in gluten—a bone, muscle and flesh builder. Put up in air-tight, moisture-proof package—write for free recipe book showing how many delicious ways there are for serving-Faust Macaroni. At all grocers Sc and 10c packages. There aiw pitchers who gossip of their lack I , . " „ . || 4 (Copyright, 1913, by the McClurt ^Te\. spa per Syndicate.) !■ MAULL BK0S. St. Louis, Mo. / i U