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$ 4 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. $ «t AJ HwJ w -mj < bfi / <r r , % 4 * wv. • : ••:-•••• V • • 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