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* THE MIAGA2IMJL How Girls May Get W ork By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. 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 dresses neatly.—BEATRICE FAIR FAX. T HE other day I met a young wom an who was looking for em ployment She corn plained of having a very hard lime in finding anything, and as I looked at her I did npt 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 sllghtes attempt to beautify herself in any way. Her qlotliea looked as though she flung them at herself. Her hair was dressed In the most unbecoming mafiner pos sible. and altogether she was an un attractive looking piece of girlhood. If I had had the time to talk to her, 1 would have said: "My dear, you never in the world will get a job while you look as yoh do now. Perk up a little bit, look cheerful, dress yourself decently and then try again.” Hear 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 b coiningly. Men can’t stand doleful women. They like brightness and cheerfulness. The girl who always appears willing ■ to attempt whatever work i» set be fore her is 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 comes once in a while. It won’t hurt you a bit. When you apply for a position, don’t brag of what you can do. State your accomplishments in a straightforward, modest way, and show 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 Iter 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 And it easy to find work. Like a, Motor Car. \ LARGE German woman held up a ** long line of people at the money order window in a post office the other da>. and all because her memory had tailed. She wanted to send some money to her son, a sailor on a merchant steamer then in foreign waters, but when she presented the application at tin* window the clerk noticed that the address was lacking. “Well, where do you want to send it?’’ he asked. "We can’t give you the money order unless you know* the name A RAMBLE WITH EULOGIA da* w s*** m*** By Gertrude Atherton What's Gone Before I’nder the influence of the romances of Dumas, Eulogla is in love with •liian. The match, however, d<* - 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 Eulogla promises that she will have no more sweethearts until she is six teen years of age. When her sixteenth birthday ar rives Eulogla 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 hears that he has been mar ried to k former sweetheart. Her mother then urges her to marry Don Hudson, the rich American, but Kulo- 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 t)on Hud son, her mother is angry. Now Go on With the Story. TODAY’S INSTALLMENT. "1 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 lias not danced 1 to night'.’" "Don Pablo Ignestria, of Monterey. He says that the women of San Du is are not half so beautiful or so elegant as the women of Monterey; he says they are too dark and too small. He does not wish to dance wlih anyone: nor do any of the girls 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 like him. Why do those eyes flash so? Thou lookesi as if thou wouldst fight with thy little fists." Don Uarmelo walked obediently over to Don I ’abio, although burning w ith jealousy. "Senor, at your service," he said. "I wish to Introduce you to t He most charming senorita in the sala." "Which?" asked Ignestria, incurious ly. He Was Handsome. Don Carmelo indicated Eulogla with :i grund sweep of his hand. "That little thing? Why, there are a dozen prettier girls in ihe sala than she, and I 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 iro disobey?" The stranger’s dark eyes became less insensible. He was a handsome man, with ids tall figure and smooth, strong face, but about him hung the indolence of tho Californian. “Very well," he said, "take me to her." He asked her to dance, and .after a waltz Kulogia 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?" Eulogla asked Inno cently. "Are they not handsome?” of th « i.la •e.” "They are not to be comp ired with mistake not. throug i th ose bright e> es." •v Ah, d tit's « t- troubl e," she replied. the women of M« nterey sine you ask "Yes. senor, that is tru \ 1 am not “1 d dn’t l>rtng his let t c-r. and 1 can't me." content to be just like < ther Klii of re me m her tier name of der town, but "Because they find th e mr n -of San sixteen. I want to kno w—t » k. ow! it ome place out 0 f China dot sounds Luis more gallan than the Senor Don Have yo u ever rea< at y b ioks. sen Dr?" 111 0 der noise i mo tor car makes.” I‘nhlt> Ignestria!" “Manj He lor ked at her wit h a Th e twe cler <s lo >ket at each other "Do they? On \ I be ieve, askc d to very liv cly interest no w. "W hat >nes di bit >ualy. have me introduce Ml to h t\'*' have yo i read?" “\\ ’hat kir.tl >f ti no la e d >es a motor "True, senor. wishe 1 to meet you, “Only the beauti ful rom a nee s of the ea r t take' " ask •ti on e. that the ladies of San L uis n l(ht have Senor D umas. I 1 ave set n m ot 1 ers, "H onk. honk! ges ted the other their vengeance." for ther e arc not mat ly looks in San “ Y ih, d it's it " ex Maimed the woman. He stared at her Luis. 1 ave you re ad )tht rs?" •He >nk k ink,'' dot's do pint e!" "Truly, senorita . but j ou th not hide "A Rr »at many c. her s. Two won !er- "F ill it in ioilK K ong. " said tlie your cards. And why. then. should I ful Spai fish I - < •[». V l uixo to d cl ilk ; ant she >aid ve be r money. fall in love with you?” Mancha’ and ‘Gil Bla s,' and ihe ro- She sat in the deep window seat watching the waves of the Pacific hull themselves against the cliffs. "Because I am different from the women of Monterey." ‘ And If I Hate You?” ii /\ HOOD reason why I should A-\ not. 1 have been in every town in California, and I ad mire no women but those of my city." "And because you will hate me first.” "And.jf 1 hate you how can 1 love you?" "It is the same. You hate one woman and love another. Each is the same passion, only to a different person. Let the person loved, or hater^ 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 born in that little head, for sixteen years, I think, have not sped over it—r.o? It went in, if 1 m.ssacmsmK Gel Ike Syrup Habit- It’s Good For You Velva Syrup Is more than a mere sweet. IPs a fine, wholesome, health ful food. It’s just what growing children need — and it’s good for grown-ups, too. Earnest, careful scientists have long ago exploded the mossy idea that sweets arc harmful — and they tell you that sweets are necessary. You’ll find * ir the syrup with the RED LABEL, fine. It has the smoothest ot sugary flavor and rich color. It makes candies, fudge, cakes and cookies that jjust melt in one’s mouth. It goes great with griddle cakes and it will make your good muffins, waffles and biscuits better. Try i! and see if this isnt’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, Ud. New Orleans. La. 11 i manecs of Sir Walter Scott—-a man of England, and some famous man. seno rita. A great man lent them to me— tho greatest of our governors—Alva rado." "And you will lend them to me?" cried Eulogla, forgetting her coquetry. "I want to read them.” ^ Her Eyes Make Him Consent. "Aha! Tl:< sc cool eyes can flash. That even little voice can break in two. Thou shalt have every book I possess." "Will the Senorita Done Eulogla favor tiaf with a song?" I n p Carmelo was bowing before her, «i ;;nitar in his hand, his wrathful eyes lixed upon D< n Pablo. "Yes,” said Kulogia. : 1 <5 tool the guitar and sang a love song in a manner which can best be (!■ eribed as no manner at all—her ex- i it ■ sion never changed, her voice never warmed. At first the effect was fiat, then the subtle fascination of it grew until the very memory of impassioned tones seemed florid and surfeiting. Wi < n I f finished Igr.estria’s heart was .hammering upon the steel in which he had prisoned it. "Well,” : aid Kulogia to Padre Moraga two weeks later, "An I not la favorita?’ - "Thou art, thou little coquette. Thou hast the power over men which thou r.,u t use with discretion, my Kulogia. ' ell th> beads three times a day' and pray that mayest do no harm." “1 wish to do harm, my father, for n or. have broken the hearts of women for ages " "Chut, chut, thou baby! Men are not so black as they are painted. Harm j no one and tho world will he better that thou hast lived in it." "if I scratch fewer women will he | erntehed," and she raised her shoulders i henta.li the fiowered muslin of her , v.ti swung her guitar under her arm I and walked down the grove, the silver leaves shining above her hair. I The padre had bidden all the young i people - f the upper class to a picnic j in the old mission garden. Girls in gay • muslins and silk reboSas were sitting beneath the arches (f the corridor or flittfrg under the trees where the yel- " apricots hung among the green leaves. Languid and sparkling faces coquetted with caballercs in bright cali- i i .» jackets hi d knee breeches laced with j silken cord, their slender waist girthed ! I y* ith long sashes, hanging gracefully ' vcr ihe hip. The water rippled in a winding creek, the birds caroled in the 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 Kulogia, a plaoe he managed to fill very often; but he had never seen her for a moment alone. "I must go soon, Eulogla," 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 ihy 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 111?" "Ay, Kulogia! Wouldst thou scoff over my grave? I go, but it is for thee to say if 1 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 the world. Kulogia, all I ask Is this little favor; I shall send thee a letter the night I leave. Promise me that thou wilt answer it - to Monterey." "No, sir! Long ago, when I was twelve, I made a* vow I would never write to a man. 1 never shall break that vow." "Thou wilt break it for me, Eulogla." "And why for you. senor? Half the trouble in the world has been made on pa par." "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 lien cn it." "No head will never lie here but" "Mine?” "Kulogia!” "To thee. Senorita Dcna 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 j in his chair, leaned forward and touch ed her glass with his. then went down on one knee and drank the ~ed wine. 1 Kulogia threw him a ill tie absent A Foxy Farmer’s Fortune By MALCOLM DOUGLAS. w- !OTK3K»MPai'-.Aa MvI-SiC- • VF.I. \ A NUr ICE CREAM 3-4 cupful Red \'*?Va Syrup. 2 cupfulr scalded milk, 1 /ai f*poen/W flcnr, l-4 cupfnl sugar, / 'ft. pinch of salt. 'J quay's » cream, I cupful chopped Engl'*h u -jfni t > meats. / t*aspconf ul almond extract. I -nnfirt rose extract. Brat up the egc u ;f S the flour and rugc', i. and gradually add the mitk Cook for L'O mir.ute* in it double boiler, sttnin? c?i- ’! standv. Coo/ and add the sy r i .*«»it, • ' nuts, cream and the extracts, and ; tc zt U Serve in dainty dishes with a preserved v cherry on top of each. uM : NV " said old Farmer Biggs, "is the stubbornest things I raise; V'ney set, an’ set, an’ se:, until they’re sot in their ways; T :<•> ain’t got watches to toll the time, but know when the day’s begun When th rooster with his *ur-ruh-huh-huh!’ keeps holierin’ at the sun. "Hen’s as a Labor Union which says that a hen kin lay Jest < . ■ -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 th : s out on a strike don’t lay any eggs at all. "I'd; I’ve ' it on a ’.eotle ijee that acts on ’em like a charm. \r. ’ iho bieg-st profit I’m gittin’ now from the farm; V ::i’e neighbors o’ mine’s complainin’ that eggs with ’em is skeerse, My foolish, deluded pullets is lavin’ ’em somethin’ fierce. lb- painted ny henhouse ceilin’ to make it look like the sky. With great big ’leetric sun a-glimerin’ up on high: • >»hot out the light completely. ,tn\ jest bv pullin’ a switch. 1 in have it bright as noonday or make it ns black as pitch. smile, pipped 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?” 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?" "I told thee that would be as soon as thou wished. Thou wilt answer my let ter—promise me, Kulogia." "I will not, senor. I Intend to be wiser than 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 wait for the day of resur rection for thy knowledge, then!" O NCE more Aunt 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 ballero! And so smart! He waite’d 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 Kulogia. 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 w’ill be cast at thy little feet a heart stronger or truer than mine. Aye, dueno a dorado! 1 love thee without hope? No; I believe that thou lovesi 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 be 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 lives in thine. I kiss thy little feet. I kiss thy tiny hands. I kiss—ay, Eulogia! Adios 1 Adios! E ABLO. She Tells Him to Come. Eulogla 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 seni her letter she received one from Grociosa la Cruz, containing the information that Ignestria had married ihe invalid girl whose love for him was 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-morrcw. ELLA WHEELER WILCOX: LETTERS TO GIRLS This Is Number 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- Exa miner.) NUMBER IN. /■ no A GIRL who is sorry for her- | 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 pieture 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 m^ny 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, iny 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 : he 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 HE ONE NOTE OF HAR MONY IN THE RECORDS. Speak the silent word of love to each member of the family; say “Peace, He 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 j the example of love and kindness, and good cheer, shame the other members j of the household into better be- ha^or. Then, if they continue to be 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 the people who make the discord or in your change to other surroundings It can 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 and all the other scholars to be “sorry,” and bestow sympathy. We tire placed in this world where i our actions and thoughts in other* i 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 stantly mourning over our situation. For such feelings waste our energies j and prevent constructive processes of j 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 trouble 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 ltiirror and laugh every day for five minutes; and when you feel the corners of your mouth turnirtg down bring them UP—and laugh again. And before very long you will dis- j cover that you are no longer to be pitied, but to be congratulated. For you will have made a new heaven and a new earth for your self. Do You Know— Up-to-Date Jokes Germany, according to the religious! statistics of tit® Empire, has an incres^l | ing number of persons without any re-f j ligious profession. The number has; ! grown from 17,000 in 1907 to nearly| 306,000. * * ♦ Astronomical observations were car-1 on in China so long as the year| 2352 B. C. * # * _ Suffrage was granted to women :*| the Commonwealth of Australia in 19011 * * * The average strength of a woman! compared with that of a man is as C| to 100. Served Him Right. - "I am the unluckiest man alive'." "What’s the matter?" “Why, I heard that Muriel was er.*| gaged, so I went round and propc to her, so that she wouldn’t think I| had been trifling with her." "And wasn’t she engaged?” "Yes; but slie broke it off. She saidl my love was more sincere than the other| fellow’s." ‘ Wh« ram ■m'vl ^ r ggegaWMilfWTyy-. ,7^ - : ■ ”< '. is finished :>-lav’n* I turn off the 'lertric 'ieht. ! \> t<> tW’r roost, a’-s’ncsin’. of course, it's right: • n :'>o p-»n »2 ,; n. an' they git the rram^ from their leg?, m ‘! - fi-r’s come. thev#tart in a-iayin’ eggs. ♦ *'e r'-'sts. on’ it’s off ,»g**r. r*M o-> a*'* of* etr’in: >n T'O o -'r*. ’ Union but I’m n r*- kin’ ’em pH like c : n; v “'”° in’ n e'n-rip pec. whv. n-oh m*- hens will la' •i -'in' ?’• ioh r< hisrh a<* •evptv ears *» da'*!" V/fR. CLOSELY (snappishly)—I be- lieve you’d stand before a mirror all day doing nothing but changing your dresses. Mrs. Closely (dreamily)—Perhaps 1 w'ould if 1 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 mere cautious, my dear Miss Clara. Clara—Cautious? Fred—Y'es; or ill-natured people will be saying that you can’t get the same man to go with you twice. "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, T think he must have belonged to a street car conductor before you bought him. Every two or three minutes w'hen 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?" One 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 praetioner. 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 l had hard work getting it away from the lawyers." Hewitt—Gruet has lost all hi? money. Jewett—But I thought lie was t Napoleon of finance. Hewitt—He was. but he met a Wel lington. "What relation are y«>u to the p:;.-- oner?" asked the magistrate of tie witness. "Next-door neighbor, prompt reply. Strengthening Food for Hard Workers 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 cheaper living when you eat eating MACARONI 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 alt grocers — 5c and 10c packages. MAIL! BUDS. Si. Louis, IHo. w was the m "in m wh mi,L% \ /i, % K ty-rtr