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4 ■Yirm Oj jmiaCsAaji jnjl- /Z^v 4 Advice to the Lovelorn By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. t THINK HE DOES. |)EAR MISS FAIRFAX: 1 am In love. I met a young man some five years ago, who paid attention to me, but I did not give him much encourage ment, as I am a little backward. I strayed from him, and every time he knew I was around he would make hla appearance, but I still never gave him any hope. It i ame to me one day that I loved him 1 wrote him and explained all. and told him I would be In I he same city he was In. He came to see me and said I did no harm n writing him. On account of my backwardness, I can not show him my love. Do you not think this man loves me and that when he sees It he will show his love? a. p. a. o. A RAMBLE WITH EULOGIA A Love Story of the Old Spanish Missions GCrtrtldC ,A,tIld*tOn Hunting a Husband By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER. Under the influence of the romances of Dumas. Eulogia In in love with Juan. The match, however, does not I receive the approval of Dona Pom- pona. who, while Juan in serenading her daughter, pours hot anhen 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 « ity after he has been called away. While she awaits anxiously his ar rival she hears that he han been mar- | ried to a former sweetheart. Her mother then urges her to marry Don Hudson, the rich American, but Eulo- i gia demurs, saying that nothing is ... i . n h /ini i.'p »« vr»n known of him and that she does not He tried to be. attentive to you for Hke hlm ghe haa Bathere „ much live years, and you discouraged nlm. j wisdom from the reading of Dumas, Under the circumstances. I think his a nd as 8 ^ e applies this to Don Hud- persistence proves he things a great deal of you. Don’t write him again step is up to him. The next son, her mother is angry. Now Go on With the Story. GO TO HER FATHER. n EAR MISS FAIRFAX: i have been going with a young girl for about two yearn. Her father objects to my going with her under any circumstances ind wishes her to go with another young man whom she dislikes very much. 1 have always loved her and always will. For a while 1 thought she cared for me a lit tle. but they have moved into . n- other town, and it seems as If she has forgotten me and Is going with other young men (I think against her will). 1 have not been with other girls since 1 met her, and it seems as If I can't forget her I don't Intend trying to love any other girl on earth If her love pboves untrue. What would you do under the circumstances? BROKEN ARROW. Her father’s objections must be overcome, and you can't overcome them until you know what they are <5o to him like a man. and tell him what you have told me. If you can • In him. It will be easy to win the girl. TODAY’S INSTALLMENT. PERHAPS SHE FLIRTS. D ear miss Fairfax: ]’m in love with a girl. She doesn’t .seem to reciprocate my regard for ber. My brother and 1 go to Sr e this girl. By tome strange fate we have kept on friendly terms. How long this will lapt, I can’t say. This girl went away recently, and sent us a card. She told him how much she missed him and specified the time of her return as "to-morrow afternoon.” She informed me of the fact that she had received my card and “sup- poned” she’d get home “to-mor row." Difference, isn't there? LOVELORN. Her cards sound as if she uants to keep both of you on her waiting list. Stand aside and give your brother a chance. If that doesn’t suit her she nill soon let you know. But. don’t. I be- let love for this girl come be- jAveen you and him. DON’T MARRY WITHOUT LOVE. D ear miss Fairfax: 1 am nineteen and crgiy in love with a man twenty-three. For four months he was devoted to me, showing by his manner lie loved me, but never mentioning a word. He then went away and, we corresponded. He said he* would be ready to be marlred in three years and asked me my future in tentions. At last he quit writing. Irately I met a wealthy man who wants me to marry him. but I do not love* him. I love the other man, who is poor BROWN EYES. The first man may be waiting till he is financially able to care for \ou. You are only nine teen. Wait a lit l ie* longer, and don't make the tragic mistake of marrying a man you do not love. NOT THE WAY TO BEHAVE. rjKAR MISS FAIRFAX: I am twenty-five years of age and engaged to a young lady one year my junior. Before our engagement she had kept com pany with a young man for al most one year, but foiVook him for me. Now that he is paying attention to her again, not know ing that we are engaged, do you think it proper for her to allow him to kiss her as before? Do you think she is treating either one of us light? She' always tells me w'hat transpires between her and her old friend. J. J. J. No, she should not allow him to kiss her; and if you are wise you will insist on announcing your en gagement. or at least letting him know it. The girl is not treating either of you fairly. DON’T TRY. D EAR MISS FAIRFAX: I am a young lady of seven teen summers, and I have been keeping company with a young man of twenty-two summers. I had Earned to love him very much, but he has turned his back upon me and has been keeping company wRh a young lady of the same place and 1 would like to know how 1 can win him. TROUBLED. To win him back would require energy and time that could be bet ter invested in your books. Do you not know, my dear, that a lover who needs winning “back" is not worth winning? "Dost thou never intend to marry?" demanded Dona Pomposa one day as she stood over the kitchen stove stirring red peppers into a saucepan full of lard. Eulogia was sitting on the table, swinging her small feet. "Why do you wish me to marry? I am well enough as I am. Was Elena CasianarVs so happy with the man whe was made for her that 1 should hasten to be a neglected wife? Poor my Elena? Four years, and then consump tion and death. Three children and an Indifferent husband, who was dying of love when he could not get her!" "Thou thinkest of unhappy mar riages because thou hast Just heard of Elena’s death. But there are many others." "Did you hear of the present she left her mother?" "No." Dona Pomposa dropped her spoon; she dearly loved a bit of gossip "What was it?" "You know that a year ago Elena went horn* to Los Quervos and begged of Roberto and Dona Jacoba on her knees to forgive her, and they did, and were glad to do it. Dona Jacoba was with her when she was so ill at the last, and Just before she died Elena said, ’Mother, in that chest you will find a legacy from me. It is all of my own that I have In the world, and I leave it to you. Do not take it until I am dead. And what do you think it was? The green hide reata!” "But Jacoba must have felt as if she were already In Purgatory?" "It Is said that she grew ten years older In that night." Marry an American. "May the saints he praised, my child can leave me no such gift. But all men are not like Carlo Castanares 1 would have thee marry an American. They are smart and know how to keep the gold. Remember, I have little now. and thou const not be young forever." "I have seen no American ! would marry." "There is Don Abel Hudson." "I do not trust that man. His tongue and his face are handsome, but always when I meet him I fe.el a little afraid. Although it goes away in a minute. The Senor Dumas says that’s a woman’s instincts" "To perdition with Senor Dumas! Does he say that a child’s Instincts are bet ter than her monther’s? Don Abet throws away the money like the rofrks He 1ms the best horses at the races. He tolls me he has a itouse in Yerba Buena’ "San Francisco. And I would not live in that bleak and sandy waste. Did you notice how he limped at the ball last night ?’• "No. What of that? But I am not In love with Don Hudson if thou art so set against him. R is true that no one knows just who he is, now I think of it. I hod not made up my mind that he was the husband for thee. But let it be an American, My Eulogia. Even when they have no money they will work for it, and that is what no Californian will do” Will Be an Old Maid. FT Eulogia had run out of the room; she rarely listened to her mother’s harangues. She draped a rehesa about her head ami went over to the house of (Iraclosa la Cruz. Her friend was sitting by her bedroom window trimming a yellow satin bedspread with lace, and Eulogia took up a half finished sheet and began fastening the drawn threads into an intricate pattern. "Only ten days more, my Graciosa,” she said, mischievously. Art thou going to run back to thy mother in thy night gown, like Joseftta Olvera?" "Never will l he such a fool, Eulogia. I have a husband for thee.” "To the tunnel of the mission witli isbands! I shall be an old makl like Aunt Anastacia, with black whiskers.’ Graciosa laughed. "Thou wilt marry and have ten children." "By every station in the mission 1 will not! Why bring more women into the world to suffer . 1 Ay. Eulogia! Thou art always say A man had crawled out of the bush near them. His face was black with powder, one arm hung limp at his side. Hii sil- i B' ing things. I cannot understand tba; thou shouldst not think about marr> - Ing. But 1 have .a husband for three He came from ‘ Los Angeles this morn ing and is a friend of my Carl name is not so pretty—Thomas Garfi —no. There he rides now.” Eulogia looked out of the window wi little curiosity. A small young man w riding down the street on a supe horse, colored like golden hronxe wi silver mane and tail. His saddle v.; heavily mounted with' silver, and h spurs were inlaid with gold and ver. The straps of the latter were wor ed with gleaming mrtal threads. . He wore a light red scrape heavi Embroidered and fringed. His boots, soft deerskin dyed a rich green ai stamped with Aste«* eagles, were th at the knee by a white silk cord woui about the leg. finished with heavy si ver tassels. His short breeches we trintmed with gold lace As he caug : Graclosa’s eye. he raised his sornbrer then rode through the open door of tl neighboring saloon and tossed off £ American drink without dismounting from his horse. Eulogia lifted her shoulders, "i like his saddle and his horse. But he is too small. Still, a new man is not disa greeable. When shall I meet him?" "To-night, my Eulogia. He goes with i to Miramar." The Night of the Ball. PARTY of young people started that night for a bull at Miramar, the home of Don Polycarp Quijas. Many a ealbellero had asked the lady ol' his choice to ride on his saddle while he rode the less comfortable auquera be hind, and guided his horse with his arm as near her waist as lie dared. Dona Pomposa with a. small brood under her wing, started last of all in the American wagon. The night was calm, the moon was high, the party very gay. Abel Hudson and the new-t outer, Don Thomas Garfias. sat on cither side of Eulogia. and she amused herself r,t the expense of each. "Don Thomas says that he Is hand somer than the men of San Luis." she said to Hudson. "Do not you think he is right? See what a beautiful curl his mustachlos have, and what a droop his eyelids! And Holy Mary! how that yel low ribbon becomes his hair! Ay, Sv nor! Why have you come to dazzle the eyes of the poor girls of San Luis Obispo?” "Ah. senorita," said the little dandy, "it will do their eyes good to see an elegant young mar. from, the city. And they should see my sister! She w-cild teach them how to dress and arrange their hair." "Bring her to teach us, senor, and for reward we will nnd her u tall and modest husband, such- as the girls of why c Have Obispo admire Don Abel. ,'ou not boast of your sisters? none—nor mother, nor father, ier.’ 1 never heard you speak Maybe you grew alone out of wandered to the canon roach ing. "I am alone. >‘Iy man in a strange "It Is Kind of You. * "Is C ut the reason why you are such a traveler, sentr? Are you never afraid in your b ng lonely rides over the unia:i - of that dreadful bandit — John Powers, who murders whole fam- <-k of gold they have I hope you always curry th< flo pis fa t( American's hand- swell out for an instant. A "True < <ir senorita,” he exclaimed. "It is kind of you to put me on my guard. I had never thought of this man.” "This devil, you mean. When last night I saw you come limping into the room" "Ay yi, yi, Dios!" "Marie!" "Dios de mi alma!" "Dios di mi vida!" "Cleo .Santo!" A wheel hud given way and the par- was scattered about the road No one was hurt, hut loud were the lamentations. No Californian had ever walked six miles, and the wheel was pest repair. But Abel Hudson came to the rescue. "Leave it to me.” lie said. "I pledge myself to get you there." and he went off in the direction of a ranch house. "Ay! The good American, the good American!" cried the girls. “Eulogia! How cunst thou he so cold to him—the handsome stranger with the kind heart?" Abel Was Standing. IS heart is like the Sacramento mules plunging, the vaqueros shouting; but the moon glittered like a silvered snow peak, the wild, green forest was about them, and even Eulogia grew sen timental, as Abel Hudson’s blue eyes bent over her’s and his curly head cut off Dona Pomposa’s view. Used to Pretty Speeches. "Dear senorita," he said, “thy tongue is very sharp, but thpu hast a kind heart. Hast thou mo place in it for Abel Hudson?” "In the sala, senor, where many oth ers are received with mamma and Aunt Anastacia sitting in the corner." He laughed. "Thou wilt always jest, but I will take ail the rooms and turn everyone out, even to Dona Pomposa and Dona Anastacia!" "And leave me alone with thee! How I should yawn!" "Oh, yes, Dona Coquetta, 1 am used to such pretty little speeches. When thou wouldst begin to yawn I would ride away, and thu wouldst be glad to see me when I returned." "\Vhat wouldst ihou bring me from the mountains, senor?" ^ He looked at her steadily. "Gold, sen- orita. I know of many rich veins. I have a little canyon suspected by no one else where I pick out a sackful of gold every day. Gokl makes the life of a beloved wife very sweet, senorita." All Were Wet. drove up to Miramar amid high laugh ter and rattling jests. Dona Luisa Quijas, a handsome, shrewd-looking woman, magnificently gowned in yellow satin, the glare and sparkle of Jewels on her neck, came out upon the corridor to meet them. "What is this? In a wagon of the country! An accident? Come in, quick! quick! I will give you clean clothes. Trust these girls to take care of their gowns. Mary! What wet feet. Quick! Quick! This way, or you will have red noses to-morrow," and she led them down the corridor, past the windows, through which they could see the dancers in the sala, and opened the door of her new bedroom. "There, my children, help your selves." And she pulled out the ca pacious drawers of her chest. "All is at your service." She lifted out an armful of dry under, clothing, then went to the door of an adjoining room and listened with her hand uplifted. Didst thou have to lock him up?" asked Dona Pomposa, as she drew op a pair of Dona Luisa’s silk stockings^ Yes! Yes! And such a time, my friend. Thou knowest he'swore after I fooled him the last time, that I should never have another ball, f was never meant to be bothered with a husband, and have I not given him three chil dren. twenty times handsomer than him self? Is that not enough? By the soul of St. Luis, the Bishop, I will continue to promise, and then get absolution at the mission, but I will not perform. Well, he was furious, my friend; he had spent a sack of gold on that ball, and he swore I should never have another. So this time I invited my guests and told him nothing. At seven to-night I per suaded hiifi into his room and locked the door. But Diego had forgotten to screw down the window and he got out. I could not get him back. Pomposa. and his big nose was purple with rage. He swore that he would turn every guest away from the door, he swore that he would be taking a bath on the corridor when they came up, and throw insults in their faces. Ay, Pomposa! I went down on'my knees. f thought I should not have my ball—such cakes as I had made and such salads, but Diego savea >. He went into Don Polycarpo’s room and cried "Fire!" Of course the old man ran there and then we locked him In. Diego had screwed down the win dows first. What have I done to be punished with him? m "Thou art too handsome and too cruel, my Luisa. But in truth he is an old wild cat. The Saints be praised that he Is safe for the night! Did he swear?" "Swear! He has cursed the skin off his coat, and is quiet now. Come, my little one, art thou ready? The Cabal leros are dry in Diego's clothes by this time, and waiting for their waltzes,’’ and she drove them through the door into the salon with a triumphant smile on her dark, sparkling face. To Be Continued To-morrow. A misfit truth is the worst of all lies. A MATTER OF TASTE. D ear miss Fairfax-. Whan you take a girl to the theater is It proper to buy her flowers? If 90, what flower would be suitable? J. W. If man can afford thorn, flowers are a thoughtful and pretty remembrance. In making a selection he should con sider her taste. CASTOR IA For Inianti and Children. The Kind You Have Always Bought Sears the Signature of THE UNIVERSAL ROUTE By Ella Wheeler Wilcox we journey along, with a laugh and a song. We see on youth's flower-decked slope. Like a beacon of light, shining fair on the sight. The beautiful Station of Hope. But the wheels of old Time roll along as we climb. And our youth speeds away on the yearo; And w ith hearts that are numb with life’s sorrows, we come To the mist-covered Station of Tears. Still onward we pass, where the milestones', alas! Are the tombs of our dead, to the West, Where glitters and gleams, in the dying sunbeams The sweet, silent Station of Rest. All rest is but change! and no grave can estrange The soul from its Parent above; And. scorning its rod. it soars back to its God. To the limitless City of Love. Valley, veined with gold instead x A of blood. What is he bringing? The wagon of the country!" Abel Hudson was standing erect .on the low floor of the wagon behind two strong black mules. The wagon was a clumsy affair, a large wooden frame covered with raw hide and set upon a heavy axle. The wheels were made of solid stumps of trees, and the harness ol' green hide. An Indian boy sat astride one of the mules. On either side rode a vasquero with his reata fastened to the axlq tree. "This is the best 1 can do," said Hud- | son. "There is probably not another I American wagon between San Luis and I Miramar. l>o you think you can stand | it?" The girls shrugged their pretty shoul der.;. The men swore into their mui- tachios. Dona Pomposa groaned at the prospect of a long ride in a springless wagon. But no one was willing to re- J turn and when Eulogia jumped lightly in*they ali followed, and Hudson placed them as comfortably as possible, al though they were obliged to sit on the floor. The wagon jolted down the canon, the "In truth. I should like the gold bet ter than myself, spnor,” said Eulogia frankly. "For, if thou wilt have the truth—ay! Holy Heaven! this is worse than the other!" A lurch, splash and the party with shrill cries sprang to their feet; the low cart was filling with water. They had left the canyon and were crossing a slough; no one had remembered it would be high tide. The girls, without an instant’s hesi tation. whipped their gowns- up, but their feet were wet, and their skirts were draggled. They made light of it, how ever. as they did of everything, and The average woman is a goed actress off the stage. A good neighbor is as great a blessing as a bad one isn’t. The poorer a man is the less likely he is to be called a grafter. Men are reasonably certain fTHout the age of a woman of uncertain age. For every patient that swears by a doctor at least a dozen swears at him. Occasionally a couple marry and live happily ever after they are divorced. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet and cost as much when out of season. It’s awfully hard to be popular with yourself and please your neighbors at the same time. When the average man fails to make good he begins to look around for some one to blame It or.. Just because a married man does the things his wife wants h'im to do is no sign that he is stuck on the job. With the waning of the honeymoon Cupid again gets busy and substitutes a pair of green goggles for the rose-col ored glasses. /npsHE ten days before Robert May- l nard’s wedding passed dully and monotonously for Beatrice Minor. Helen Robbins had changed her plans about, coming to town, although she would run in for the wedding, she ex plained when the widow telephoned her. Pleasanton was so lovely in its autumn foliage that she and John had decided to stay on indefinitely. She appended to this announcement an invitation to her friend to run out for a few days and enjoy the brilliant October weather. Helen never held resentment long, and had evidently forgotten her recent tele phonic snub. But Beatrice declined the invitation hastily. She did not want to visit Helen’s country house just now. She had time to regret her precipi tate refusal during tlje following days. At the end of a week her loneliness and isolation were telling on her nerves. The children had returned to kinder garten, and when school hours were over they played out-of-doors with some older children, with whom they were safe. , Walked for Duty’s Sake. Much of their mother’s time was spent in the apartment with only Mary for i company. Each afternoon she went out for a walk from a sense of duty, and, once, Dr. Haynes came by and took her for a short spin into Westchester, but he was busy and she saw him sel dom. She read until her eyes ached, and sewed until they smarted again. She listened to her children’s prattle when they were in the house, and, when they were absent, to Mary’s gossip concern ing the other families with whom she had lived. She rose in the morning with no thrill of anticipation and went to bed at night with gratitude that in sleep, at least, she would have peace. The monotonous life of a great city where she seemed just now to have no friends whom she cared, to see, oppressed her. and sometimes she longed for the summer days in Pleasanton, where, at feast, something interesting had hap pened. ^ Lacy Wrote Less Often. Keith Lacy wrote her less often than his role of an ardent lover would war rant, but his bright letters were an event in the woman’s humdrum life She answered them gladly and with more warmth than she might have used had she been less idle and depressed. She even mistook her loneliness for a desire to see her absent suitor. As for Paul Maynard, Beatrice knew that he was improving slowly, and that he would not be severely disfigured. That was all. Twice when she called up his nurse at the hospital Dr. Yeager had taken the attendant’s place at the telephone, and. the second time, had given such brusque replies to her fal tered queries that she hung the receiver up, fiushed and angry, with the deter mination in her heart to forget Paul, wholly and forever. This she tried to persuade herself she iiad done, yet she w-ould sit motionless with her book or sewing lying idle in her lap, for a half-hour at a time, a wistful, abstracted look on her face, and her thoughts on the rf man she was try ing to forget. Beatrice had thought at first that she would net attend Robert Maynard’s marriage, but as* the days crawled by and her life grew duller, she began to think of the wedding, of the people she would see there, and, still more, of the dress she might wear upon that occasion. She had a litle money left from her fire insurance, and, though she had resolved to put it away in the hank, the thought of the new- cos tume she might purchase with it was too much for her resolution. All Misgivings Fled. The dress that she finally bought at “a special sale” cost more than she could afford, and she suffered qualms at the recollection of her extravagance. But when the costume came home, and she tried it on before her mirror, all misgivings rfled as soon as she saw its beauty. She was doubly glad she had bought it when Miss Damerel, Robert May nard’s fiancee, called on her late one rainy afternoon. "I know you are surprised to see me, and that my calling at this juncture is most unconventional,’’^ Miss Damerel said, after the preliminaries of greet ing had been exchanged and visitor and hostess were seated in the cozy living room "But Robert said that you were all alone here in the city, and he asked me to see you and urge you to . our wedding.” 610 Beatrice assured her that she tnt ed to be present at the ceremony ^ "I have never had a chance to tha you," prattled on the bride-elect «, your kindness to my dear boy | n 7 past. He has spoken of you very oft ■ "I am sure that Mr. Maynard «!!,! me fully for whatever kindness I , ever able to show him," replied the ow, enigmatically. "He is the dearest man in the world" declared Miss Damerel, sentimental "Tho Soul am, . The best and the truest.' "A woman should always feel th I about the man she Is going t 0 ntam f my dear,” replied Beatrice gently '' Sat Alone Thinking. When the happy gin had gone lonely woman sat for a time in the dusk I thinking. "After all," she muttered, •» woman! can not be happy—really happy~ unleiI ] she is married.' Her thoughts suddenly turned to | Keith Lacy with more warmth than m, had ever before felt for him After little she arose and turned on the light I the darkened room and spoke out I her decision. 1 'Yes, it would be best," she m i softly. “I would be happier than I an l now, at least." 1 A letter lay on the table underneath l the mellow glow of the lamp. She re I membered now that Mary had laid it| there when she brought in the tea-serv-1 ice. She picked It up, and saw with J sudden thrill that it was from Keith f “Dear Lady,” the letter ran, " y0ii i will be glad to learn that I wa! mar-f ried to-day to the dearest girl j n tb ,L world, and that I am very happy J has been a case of love at first sight [ and I have written to you because you have been my dear friend and had uti-[ bounded patience with my futile efroml to make you care for me as I foolishlvl thought I wanted you to care. I knosl that you will rejoice In my happinest [ You were so kind, to me in my boyish | love that I am sure you will rejoice with I me now that you know that real low | haS come to me. She Is the 'little i ter’ of my partner, and has been visit-1 ing him. “Always your sincere friend, "KEITH LACY.' Pure English. “TV/fY dear, I wish you would speak! more carefully,’’ said a stickler I for pure English to his wife. “Youl pay that ’Henry Jones came to this! town from Sunderland.’ Don’t youl see that it would be better to say that I he ‘came from Sunderland to this| town’ “I don’t see any difference in the| two expressions.” rejoined the lady. "But there is a difference in the two I expressions—a rhetorical difference.[ You don’t hear me make use of such I awkward expressions. By the way. I] have a letter from your father in my| pocket.” “Oh. dear, is my father in your I pocket?” inquired the wife. "YouI mean that you have in your pocket a| letter from my father." "There you go with your little quib bles! You take a delight in liarass-l ing me; you are always taking |n a I thread and representing it as a ropo.’I "Representing it to be a rope. yoj| mean, dear.” And then he grinned a sickly grin] and wished he had* never started th; discussion. The Despots. Visitor—But why do you intend to| give up your flat and' take a house.' Hostess (wearily)—Because we’d 1 rather live under an absolute monarchy! than a dual alliance. In a house will still have the cook, but we woni| have the hall porter. Successful KECHMT8 PULS Sold everywhere. In boxes. 10c., 2So \DACHES "NEURALGIA ym LAGRIPPE LAUGH And Everybody Laughs With You The Great Comic Section of Hearst’s Sunday American On Sunday will be better than ever Don’t miss it! Order your Sunday before. Ameri can now! Then you will be sure to get it. I BOTH PHONES MAIN 8000 i ~ The 1 By WIL YG‘ eoroi Lady, as I 1 long time. 1 d< Led9 very tend L.pt when som t e ts shaved tw to tip. l iut 1 ■George You v ( . ou , if 1 told rhlstling for ri Heir mates ev , ariesre table jj., art of the Te ills rooming t Lfound the sur fliem clouds th goad-'' •■What's all t Ibor wanted to mance or hop. L u shy before, felddo. You 1 ed early and we ek, and eat [jour nerves goi ••Well, Georj k-ou that ' do (forenoon, the low over in De (shattered love' Uf Sister Mar jdresser and ne' , abode. Thi land Just as th {here I go and "Who Is It th arber. |ln Love Wi “It ain’t no (Manicure was reading la. *a9 reading i Library and v te stuck it un< (home with it. George. It’s c ; have ever s (•Famous Lovej labout Napoleoi i young fellow • with a gii ho live In Troy (Anthony and C Ithony lost the |in Egypt so 1< i to Reno or |get a divorce. "I never wi ■mances,” said ■way butter ar Jtakes all the : fclary and the ■to live foul* f (vator and • git i delicatessen [gits kinda fras “But just |Manicure Lad gent can f ■when they set ■that ‘Famous ■when I was : ■young P«xis st land taking h ■made me wisl ■come down fi ■kidnap me aw |0f course it t ■lot, because v |l am the only ■they lean on. ■care if someb ■naped Broth e ■poor boy is as ■ever been in ■reer. It was ■ father’s bank ■last one he v The old gent 1 "I don’t se> ■about stealini ■ other man’s vs IWanted to in all the numerous ailments caused I by defective or irregular action of I the organs of digestion and elimi-1 nation—certain to prevent suffering | and to improve the general health- “Don’t you? "Gee, I think ■ grand to hav ■to have been ■little nerve lii I the book told. "I was thi ■ could have a 1 jRomeo put a r >rch and wt would accep ■ and beat do^ (quick before "Napoleon ■ awful sweet l ■story tells ho ■loved his qu< ■ loved him ■ breaking bad |in that awful ■ the battle of |was the narr ■ Duke Wellini Idlers. There ■ more, Georg* ■ wants to gc ■ starts saving ■ enough to bu ■ End and wh ■ turned down ■ loses it playii ■ such love as |used to have. “Every ^n< ■ old gent eon I his feet well ■ look on his ir |ing mother < ■ along them 1 I Ing their tr< ■Nobody plig ■ George, until |got a report ■Duns and Br “The more ■tiful old rom ■no more, the ■then instead I “If you’re ■ the way you ■ Paid the Hea I my feelings ■ftead of riov |Uve then, to< ■ with you. H |tomer that i I ! alk. Humoi Orif IMAL" Th« Fo« iMore health lAfrees wit I Delicious, if eh milk, i [A quick !un |T»kenosubs O