Newspaper Page Text
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IR.
Wu '» coni]
'at she intend
cremony.
lance to th|J
Me-elect, “[1
' ar t>oy ( n J
ou Vt 'ry oftsl
laynard rep,
rlndness | „
•enlied the,
; ,n the world
senti ment J1
st." J
v “ys feel i J
°'"P to marr
lp e gently.
had gone |
me In the <j J|
red, ‘ 'a woini
happy—un,,
*y turned
armth than e
hint. After ^
ed on the lig,
and spoke t
-st." she salt I
Pier than I,
•ble undernea
Ia mp. She r.
try had laid L
in the tea-sen]
■Rd saw withj
as from Kelt)
iter ran,
at I was u,
est girl in t,
very happy.
! at first sl|t„
ou because yj
id and had i,
iy futile eltoif
e as I foolish
> care. I ltnoj
my happlnes,
b in my boyld
will rejoices..
that real lot
s the 'little u
has been vial
friend,
ilTH LACY,” |
isb.
u would sped
said a stiekfl
is wife. "YoJ
i came to tin
d.' Don’t yj
tter to say tin
rland to tSt
Terence in tia)
tied the lady!
ence in the t«l
cal differencaj
ke use of s
By the way. I
r father in»
’ather in
3 wife. "Tod
your pocket)
our little qul
ght in han
ys taking up i
g it as a rope. 1 ]
be a rope,
1 a sickly [
ver started tM
n>i 10e„ 2to
n
ie Manicure
Lady
D
SPRINGTIME
o
Copyright, 1913, by Journal-Amer
ican-Kxaminor.
By Nell Brinkley
3tS.
you Intend t
ike a house?
Because we'|
jolute monarch
In a house ’
, but we wonl
ssful
gy WILLIAM F. KIRK.
i EORGE,” said the Manicure
Udy, "I ain't felt so romantic
Jf a9 1 have this forenoon for a
1 don't suppose barbers ever
1 v ‘,‘, r y tender like and pensive ex-
, wt ,, some Joe with a hard beard
r shaved twice over and gives them
■' tut It Is different with me,
I You wouldn't believe it, would
I jf i told you I can hear robbins
lying for rain and doves cooing for
L mates even if I am sitting at a
| icure table right down here in the
T. i( the Tenderloin. The way 1 feel
L morning there is a golden haze
Xnd the sun and purple edges to all
E, clouds that floats fleecy-like over-
ht hat's all this about?” the head bar-
wanted to know. "It must be ro-
ce or hop. I never heard you get
hy before. You look kinda pale, too,
|(io You had better try going to
early and gitting up early for a
lit and eat plenty of celery to keep
ir nerves good.”
Veil, George, I might as well tell
that I do feel kinder romantic this
fenoon, the first time since that fel-
J over in Decatur proposed to me and
Ittered love’s dream by copping one
lsister Marne's rings off from the
Iser and never returning to our hum-
labode. That was years ago, George,
I just as the scar was healing over,
. i go and get sentimental again."
Kvho is it this time?" asked the Head
|ber.
Love With a Book.
■t ain’t no fellow,’’ answered the
liicure Lady. “It’s a book that 1
i reading last night. Broiher Wilfred
reading it down at the Carnegie
tan and when nobody was looking
Ltuck it und-er his coat and mooched
te with it. It was worth the risk,
lrge. It's one of the grandest books
|ave ever saw. The name of it is
nous Loves of History.’ It tells all
lut Napoleon and Josephine and about
loung fellow named Paris that fell ir, !
, w jth a girl named Helen that used
|ive in Troy, N. Y., and it tells about
hony and Cleopatra and how Mr. An-
hy lost the Roman Umpire by staying
Egypt so long that his wife had to
|to Reno or some place like that to
a divorce.”
never was much on those ro-
,ces.” said, the Head Barber. “The
butter and eggs is jelling now, it
|es all the mental ’rithmetic to keep
and the children. When you got
live four flights up without no ele-
|or and git most of your eatables at
flicatessen store, love's young dream
| kinda frazzled around the edges.”
But Just the same,” insisted the
hicure Lady, “I think that a girl or
lent can forgit their surroundings
pn they set down with the book like j
•Famous Loves’ book. Gee, George,
J?n 1 was reading about that brave
|ng Paris stealing a King’s wife away
taking her up-State to Troy, it
me wish that some fellow would
lie down from the Blue Ridge and
liap me away from my father’s roof,
(course it would hurt the old gent a
j because with my earning capacity,
|n the only pillar up home on which
lean on. The old gent wouldn’t
if somebody came along and kid-
ed Brother Wilfred, because the
|r boy is as far from a job as he has
been in all his bright young <?a-
It was only last night he nicked
fier’s bank roll for a case note, the
. one he will get for some time, as
[ old gent has sworn off getting mel-
don’t see anything very romantic
lut stealing the King's wife or any
Ter man’s wife,” said the head barber.
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What the Newly
Wed Should Know
FIRST:---Learn to Cook
This is the first of a series of articles prepared by Mar
garet Hubbai*d Ayer, who has been commissioned by The Geor
gian to discuss the problems of newly married people with
experts in various departments of household economy.
By MARGARET HUBBARD AYER.
T3H
Mjf
& .C Y-^v
i
Daysey Mayme
And Her Folks
knted to Be “Stole.”
JDon’t you?" said the Manicure Lady.
Ie, I think it must have been simply
Ind to have lived in them days and
Save been stole by some guy with a
I : < rve like that Paris fellow. And
I book told about Romeo and Juliet.
J was thinking, George, that if i
Qd have a handsome young fellow like
taeo put a ladder up against our front
Ich and w'hisper words of love to me
ould accept his proposal of marriage
I beat down the ladder with him
fck before the porch broke.
r<apoleon and Josephine had an
lul sweet love, so the book says. The
ly tells how much that great g<
Id his queen and how much she
t<i him until things commenced
wdng bad for him and he lost out
that awful retreat from Waterloo and
battle of Bunker Hill, or whatever
b the name of that fight he lost to
Ke Wellington and his German'soi
ls. There ain’t no love like that no
pe, George. When a young fellow
Tts to get married nowadays he
rts saving up until he has money
lugh to buy a house and lot in West
l3 and when he proposes and gets
pied down he takes the money and
! it playing poker. There ain’t even
love as our fathers and mothers
to have.
[Every once e-d a while when the
I gent comes home from lodge with
[feet well apart and a kinda balmy
* on his map I can hear him remind-
I mother of how they used to walk
|ig them lilac-bordered lanes, plight-
their troth over and over again.
>ody plights no troths nowadays,
lrge, until the young girl’s folks has
a report on the young gent from
is and Bradstreets.
The more I think about them beau-
1 old romances which can never he
■more, the more I wisht T had lived
T instead of now.”
If you’re going to keep on harping
1^'ay you started out this morning,”
? the Head Barber, “it wouldn’t hurt
.feelings if you had lived then in-
l<3 of now, jupt so I didn’t have to
1; then, too, and be in the same shop
n you. Here comes the nervous cus-
|er that never likes to hear women
Humor him, Kid, humor him.”
u ‘Just Say 99
ORLICK’S
it Means
Original and Genuine
IALTED MILK
| The Food-diink for All Ages.
Ire healthful than Tea or Coffee,
frees with the weakest digestion.
|icious, invigorating & nutritious,
i milk, malted grain, powder form.
Mick lunch prepared in a minute,
e no substitute. AskforHORLICK’S
Others are imitations.
By FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
W HEN Lysander John Appleton
was a young man, and unat
tached, he found life very gay.
He was invited to all the parties,
and he took every new girl who came
to his town out to look at the moon.
He was so popular that the third time
he met a girl she would pick tile lint
off his coat.
Then he became engaged, and his
popularity became like that of a cold
buckwheat cake.
Then he got married, and the only
' envelopes he received in a woman's
hand were sent by the girl book-
| keepers in the employ of the grocer
and the butcher.
His wife did not forget his exist
ence, remembering It dutifully when
there was one more guest than the
game of cards required, or when she
had a guest who was very hard of
: hearing.
Occasionally, too, she would ask
him to escort one of her kin home.
His duties as Kin Commissioner-
General only tended, to increase his
! unpopularity. A decision that when
a woman's kin guest goes home her
f husband has a right to see what she
is taking in her trunk made him so
unpopular among the women that
'"thereafter every invitation Mrs. Ly-
| sander John Appleton received care
fully excluded her husband.
All of this explains his joy the
o*hcr evening when a special messen
ger appeared at the door with an in-
vitation for him!
He was not completely forgotten,
j At last he was to have another taste
of society, so steadfastly forbidden
the father of a family.
“What is the invitation to? asked
his wife. But he was so excited in
looking for his ties where his socks
were kept, and his gloves in his hand
kerchief box, he did not reply.
He hummed gayly, and he whistled
right merrily, stopping between tunes
to tell his wife he would be gone all
night. „ ,
’ "Gone all night!" How strangelj
sweet the words sounded! He re
peated them exultantly. He would
be gone all night! No one 1 ] ee(1 sit
up for him! What reckless freedom
the words implied!
He whistled louder and more iner-
rilv. He was wildly excited over the
welcome change that was coming into
the monotony of his life as a married
Then, as he started out the door
with the step and bearing of a man
half his years, he told his wife where
he was going. .
True it was an invitation to sit up
with tiie dead, but it was the first
invitation of any kind he had received
! in seventeen years!
The Retort Courteous.
Shartteon—Phlatz, wnat makes your
i nose so red? ...
Phlatz—It glows with pride because
! it never pokes itself into other peo-
! pie’s business,
After Effects.
Banks—I don't mind the influenza
| itself so 'much—it’s the after effect,
' I'm afraid of. . ,
Rinors—'The after effects is what
| ails me. I'm still dodging the doctor
I for 52 5,
I T’S springtime in Atlanta. Out
of the back-swung door of
her car Miss Atlanta, who is
a woman most thoroughbred and
fair, steps to the gray curb. She
is garbed in all the grotesquerie
of looped skirt, Elizabeth frill,
tortured cockade and sack coat
with the belt at- the hips, arnl —
riot of tender flowers from those
shops with the extra shiny win
dows and the sweet-smelly door
ways.
It’s springtime in the far South
west. The sea is as blue as the
aquamarine that rests in the
hollow at the root of your sweet
heart’s throat. Over all the val
leys and hills, it casts a dreamy
lights iThe far .islands lie like a
dream on the horizon. The hills
that sweep to the sea are livid
with lovely uplands of green bar
ley and ablaze with seas of golden
poppies,. All this—peach blossom
and almond and orange—and the
girl in bathing togs, with the sea
water pearling her hair—tells you
that it’s springtime in the air far
Southwest.
As for spring in a fellow’s
heart. Lay your ear close and
listen to the little chap who’s
singing inside!
Are You Happy? If Not, Why Not?
ELLA WHEELER WILCOX Tells How to Gain Joys of Life
By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
Copyright. 1913, by Star Publishing Co.
Y OU men and women who read
these lines, w'hat are you doing
to get the best out of the short
life you are liging?
I know what you are striving for,
most of you men (American men), it is
wealth and power.
And you do not want these things so
much for yourselves as for the wives
and children who bear your names.
But, good sir, are you not making a
mistake to so utterly absorb yourself in
business?
If you really live to make jour dear
ones happy, would you not attain the
result sooner by giving them a little
more of your time and attention as you
go along?
I have talked with hundreds—yes,
thousands—of wives of ambitious men,
and the universal complaint is: “Oh, if
my husband was not so tied down to
his business—if he could only give a lit
tle more time to his family—take a few
weeks now' and then for recreation with
us. or even a day’s outing now and
then, how' happy we would be. But he is
so busy all the time and so tired and
nervous.”
Does it pay? *
And you, madam, are you making
your husband realize that you would
rather have more of his leisure than
more of his riches? or are you com
plaining that you do not live as well as
your neighbors, and urging him on to
renewed efforts by your petty nagging
and restless discontent?
Many a woman, instead of being the
helpmate and comfort to her husband
God intended her to be, is the whip that
drives him like a tired horse to overtax
his strength.
Ask yourself if you are one of these?
There have been hard times for men in
the last ten years.
Have you made your husband feel
that you sympathized with him in the
difficulties that he has encountered in
these days of trusts and monopolies?
Have you been ready to take a philo
sophical and cheerful view of the econ
omies and deprivations forced upon you,
or have you been despondent, complain
ing or rebellious, or by a martyr-like
air added to the mortification of your
troubled husband?
Have you tried to brace up his dis
couraged moods by your optimism, and
to turn the temporary tragedy into a
laughing jest? or have you driven him
to the verge of despair and suicide by
your half-concealed contempt at his
failures?
And you, sir, have you made your wife
realize during these years of hard strug
gle that she is the dearest thing in the
world to you, and that you appreciate
her economies, and that her sympathy
and companionship are more to you than
all the honors the world could offer you
would be without her?
Or have you left her to guess this to
be the fact, that while you plunged
deeper and deeper into business and
rarely spoke to her unless it was to find
fault and complain of small delinquen
cies, with no word of praise for great
virtues?
Answer these questions silently to
yourself and then ask yourself what
makes life worth living.
Is it not. first of all, a peaceful, love-
warmed home companionship with dear
ones, and the giving and receiving of
simple pleasures and of sympathy and
affection?
What use will a fortune be if you
lose those joys out of life?
Would it not be wise to obtain and
retain the best things as you go along?
The end of the journey is not far—and
the only thing you can take across is
Love.
By a Woman Hater
THE SUN AND THE BOY
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
«Y
jrOU must be a wonderful, wonderful Sun,”
Said the Little Blind Boy one day
"My father told me you were easy to see
’Till the stars come to twinkle an^i play.
I wish I could know how you look when you glow
Just after the day has begun;
Do you think I’ll be bigger than you when I grow?”
Said the Little Blind Boy to the Sun.
"You must be a beautiful, beautiful child,”
said the Sun through its dazzling glare;
"But I am blind, too, and 1 can not see you,
Although I’m sure you 'are there.
Don’t cry, little lad, and don't try, little lad,
To grasp unattainable joy;
Perhaps we’ll be peers after billions of years,”
Said the Sun to the Little Blind Boy.
A fool and his money are soon mar
ried.
Few women have to take lessons in
painting.
Peace hath her victories, but we gen
erally hftve to fight hard for them.
A girl never reads a novel without
wondering if she isn’t a good bit like
the heroine.
You can sometimes flatter a woman by
telling her you don't.
Time and tide w r ait for no man, but
you can’t make a woman believe it when
she is putting on her hat.
When a girl is proverbially fond of
lobsters, she generally goes out to sup
per with one.
Nearly every girl at some time has
made some fellow happy by refusing to
marry him.
Many a fellow who has told a girl she
was good enough to eat has been obliged
to swallow his own words.
The good die young, or if they don’t
they grow up to be mighty homely.
With some women the tragedy of mar
ried life begins with the first scratch on
the parlor furniture.
How To Do It.
I17HENEVER I get an umbrella,”
vv aa.i<5 tiie prudent person, “I put
my name on it.”
“So I do.” answered the man with
out a conscience. "The person who
used to own it isn’t so likely to iden
tify it.”
She Might Have Been.
Liitle Visitor (pointing to a large oil
portrait)—Whose picture is that?
Little Hostess—She was my mamma's
great aunt. 1 never heard much about
her, but guess she was a school teacher.
Little Visitor—Why?
Little Hostess—See how her eyes fol
low ub about? ,
HP HE COOK—Ol’m sorry, mum, but
* the walkin’ diligate av th’ Suprame
Ordher av Cooks hov ordered me to
throw up me job.
The Mistress (tearfully)—Oh, Norah!
What have I done?
The Cook—Nawthln', mum; but your
foolish husband got shaved in a non
union barber shop th’ day before yis-
terday.
* * *
“Would you die for me?” she asked,
sentimentally.
“Now, look here,” he returned in his
matter-of-fact way. “are w r e supposed
to be planning a cheap novel or a
wedding?”
* * *
Mrs. Flubdub—My husband goes out
every evening for a little constitutional.
Does yours?
Mrs. Guzzler—No; my husband al
ways keeps it in the house.
* * •
Commercial: “If a man has an in
come of two million dollars a year, whai
is his principal?”
Cynic: “A man with such an in
come usually has no principle.”
L EARN to cook, as a matter of
honesty, if for no other rea
son.
According to Miss Wilhelmina
Clement, past mistress in the culinary
art, the wife who can’t cook or su
perintend the housekeeping takes her
husband's pay envelope on false pro
tenses.
She does not know her business.
Miss Clement has been teaching
brides their business fftr some time,
and in her immaculately clean kitch
en, from w hich a class of bride pupils
had just departed, she explained why
a knowledge of cooking was one of
the most important assets‘which a
young woman brings to the matrimo
nial partnership.
Miss Clement is of Dutch descent
and is "Mrs.” in private life. In her
white frock and pretty Dutch cap she
is good to look at.
Reciprocity Expected.
"When a couple marry," said Mlsa
Glement, “the girl expects her hus
band to hand her over most of his
salary, and he, in turn, expects that
her management of that money will
make it go twice, as far as It did be
fore their marriage.
"It's his business to earn the
money. It's hers to spend it wisely.
One part is as important as the other.
"Now, she would feel she had been
cheated if she found, after marriage,
that he was incapable of earning the
bread and butter, and he has a right
to feel that he has been defrauded if
she doesn’t know how to cook the food
that his money buys.
"The foundation of all home life is
the kitchen. People live in hotels and
boarding houses, but these are not
called 'home.'
“A home is a place where the
hearth fire bums for you and yours
alpne, even If the hearth fire Is a gas
range.
Don’t Be a Cheat.
"The girl who marries for a home
and does not know her part of the
business of making that home, is
cheating. She can not know her busi
ness unless she knows how to cook.
"In very well-to-do homes the wife
may not want to do the cooking per
sonally. but unless she knows some
thing about cooking she can not direct
her helper or understand whether or
not her family is getting proper nour
ishment.
“Correct feeding is becoming a sci
ence, and we are all awakening to the
fact that it is as important .to com
bine food properly for the adult as it
Is for the baby.
“Men who'are well fed, properly
nourished, are less Inclined to drink.
It’s poor cooking as much as anything
that sends men to the saloons.
“No woman need think that she is
too intellectual to bother with cook
ing. Cooking is a science as well as
an art. arid one can go on learning
fopever.
"The bride who has a good foun
dation of culinary knowledge and
takes an interest in rooking will find
no end of possibilities to it.
Don’t Neglect the Scraps.
"Rig^it in her own kitchen she can
join the great movement to reduce
the high cost of living. She can use
up every scrap of left-over material.
And let me tell you that it is the
clever cook alone who can make left
over food tasty and who never wastes
anything.
"It is the bride's business to insist
on standard goods, not taking poorer,
substitutes. In the end It always
pays to get the best materials and
cut down in some other way—not
having so many different dishes per
haps.
"The smaller the income the more
intelligence It takes on the part of
the bride to manage her share of the
domestic partnership, and the more
she needs to study and plan her daily
bill of fares.
"Every’ girl who is going to be mar
ried should take a course of cooking
lessons unless a very wise mother has
taught her already. Unfortunately,
such mothers are rare nowadays. If
she already knfcws how to cook ordi
narily well, she ought to go on learn
ing and trying new dishes by herself.
"In the average home there is an
appalling lack of variety In the bill of
fare, and that is why men, especially,
are so glad to get a meal at a good
restaurant. A man’s stomach craves
variety, and the hard-working man is
certainly entitled to a good meal
properly balanced in food values and
dainty service.
Has Right to Complain.
“A man comes home after a hard
day’s work and sees the same old
things served on a soiled cloth. Some
times he sees delicatessen food hastily
bought just before dinner. I think he
has a right to complain, and generally
he does. If he Is easy-going he says
nothing, but after a while he grows
‘grouchy.’
"There are more grouchee caused
by bad cooking than by bad luck.
"Don’t be satisfied if you can do
plain home cooking. The man of to
day, and his wife and children, too.
have acquired a taste for foreign
dishes, and that is what the restau
rants thrive on. You can learn to
make chop suey or Italian spaghetti
youiself. They aro not mysteries, but
no one can learn them unless thev
are willing to take time and thought
and pains.
“The healtli and comfort of the fam
ily depend largely on the wife’s
knowledge of cooking. If she does
not know her business the matrimo
nial venture will not be the success
she might have made it.”
Answer Wanted.
\ LEARNED professor at one of tho
^ Jarge public schools was explaining
to his class how the identity of a thing
might remain, even with the loss of its
parts. "Here,” he said, "is this pen
knife. Now. suppose I lose this blade
and replace it with a new one—you see
it has two blades—is it still the same
knife?”
“Yes, yes!” cried the class.
“And suppose,” he said, “I lose the
second blade and replace it with a new'
one—is it still the same knife?”
“Oh yes,” said the class.
“Now,” said the professor, triumph
antly, “sqppose I lose the handle and
have a new one made—is it still the
same knife?”
"Certainly!” roared the class.
But here a youth arose—one of the
clear-headed kind. "Professor,” said
he, “suppose I should find those two
blades and that handle and put them
together again—what knife would that
be?”
The professor’s answer is not reconi-
ed.
.6*
Fried-'FisfT ,
Today,
Cottolcne is better than butter or lard for frying because it
can be heated about 100 degrees higher without burning or )
smoking. This extreme heat instantly cooks the
outer surface, and forms a crust which prevents
the absorption of fat
Cottolene
Fry fish with Cottolene and it will never be greasy,
but crisp and appetizing enough to make your mouth
water.
Cottolene is more economical than lard; coste no
more, and goes one-third farther than
either butter or lard.
You are not practicing
economy if you are not using
Cottolene in your kitchen.
Made only by
THE N.K.FAIRBANK
COMPANY