Newspaper Page Text
J
♦
THE
1
i*iu
C'
Advice to the
Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
NO.
J )KAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I am 15 and have been go-
iivg with a man of 27 for the past
three months. He says he loves
me dearly, and has given mi*
some nice presents. The last
time we won* together we hail a
quarrel, but he wants to call
again. Do you think it would be
proper for me to accept his com
pany? Every time we are to-
-mTier he insists on an early
marriage. Would it be all right
for me to marry him when my
. / pa routs object? BELIZE.
You foolish little girl, don’t you
know that this man is not a good
man ?
If he were he would not coax a girl
of 15 to marry him againAt her par-
wishes. You must promise me
that you will not see him again.
P/VRT FAULT; PART VIRTUE.
HEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I am a gir! «f 16, employed
aa a stenographer, and conse
quently meet quite a number of
peopfe.
Girl friends oorae out to see
me. but my mother will not let
me visit them, saying she knows
nothing about them. Boys also
ask permission to call on me,
but she says it is foolishness,
and will not allow them to call;
neither will she allow me to go
out with them.
She is always telling me I
have no friends, and 1 think it j
is partly her fault. Do you?
LONESOME.
She is right in refusing o let you
go with girls and boys of whom she
knows nothing, but does wrong,
when you are consequently lonely,
1n twitting you with being friend
less. Look on the better side of it.
Be content with being friendless
rather than have the wrong kind.
For tbe Eyelashes.
■v w rllEN the eyelashes are thin
^/\/ and weak. a simple treat
ment for strengthening them;
is to moisten one of the fingers with
Ianollne, close the eyes and run the
greased finger along the edges of the
eyelids, taking care that the grease
doe* not get into the eyes themselves.
Weak eyebrows may also be treated
with lanoline, which should be rubbed
gently into them
WOMAN’S ILLS
DISAPPEARED
Like Magic after taking Lydia
F. Pinkham’s Vegetable
Compound.
Bathing Skirts ! o Be Shorter
According to Very Latest Edict
§*
north ba
JR, N. Y.—"As I have
used ' Lydia E.
T3 Pinkham’s Yege«
!f;j table Compound
:i;j| with great benefit I
feel it my duty to
write and tell you
about it. 1 was
ailing from female
weakness and ha
headache and back
ache nearly all tht*
time. I was later
eVdry month than I
should have been
and so sick that 1
had to go to bed.
nkham’a Vegetable Com-
id has made me well and these trou-
have disappeared like magic. I
recommended the Compound to
y women who have used it success-
I ■
V#
>V«g
E
.1 Stac
U. K. 1
N ■ .1, N rth Bangor, X. Y
Another Made Well.
ANN AItPa ‘R. Mich. “Lydia E Pink- ’
ham's Vegetable Compound has done i
wonders for me For years 1 suffered
terribly with hemorrhages and had
pains so intense that sometimes 1 would
faint v .«y. I had female weakness
so bad that 1 had to doctor all the time
and never found relief until l took your
remedies to please ray husband. 1
recommend your wonderful medicine to
all sufferers as 1 think it is a blessing
for all women.”—Mrs. L. E. Wyckoff.
112 S. Ashley 6t . Ann Arbor. Mich.
.There need be no doubt about the
ability of this grand old remedy, made
from the roots and herbs of our fields, to
remedy woman's diseases. We possess
volumes of proof of this fact, enough
to convince the most skeptical Why
don’t you try it?
Up-to-the-Minute jokes
Pity the Poor
Rich Girl
\ Y TILL Atlanta girls follow the bathing suit fashion as laid down by
\x Chief of Police Woodruff, of Atlantic City? The chief’s latest
edict says the skirts may come as low—or as high—as “a little
above the knee.” The picture above gives an idea of the new bathing
skirt, the dotted line indicating the length which obtained last summer.
Atlanta young women who contemplate a visit to the seashore at Tybee or
Cumberland or daily visits to the "beach” at Piedmont Park may be in
terested in knowing the season’s fashion as it applies to the famous
bathing place—Atlantic City, which so often sets the pace.
$1,000
Reward
Offered
for every ounce of
adulteration or in
ferior grade cof
fee found in a
sealed can of Max
well House Blend.
Aek your grocer for it.
e
Nashville
Houstc v
Jacksoaviile
LJrSBANT) (very late home from the
club)—H’ra! 1 told you not to sit
up for me.
Wife (sweetly)—I didn't. 1 got up
to see the sun rise.
Bellows -Does your daughter play
<m the piano?
Old Farmer (in tones of deep dis
gust) No, sir.# She works on it,
pounds It. rakes It, scrapes it, Jumps
>n it. rolls over on it. but there’s no
play about It, sir.
Wife (with Suffragist leanings)—
1'ntil women got the vote it is impos
sible for them to get justice in the
i courts.
j Husband True; they get more mer
cy than justice.
J "Why, the size of your bill,” cried
the angry patient to the doctor,
I j "makees me boll all over!”
“Ah!” said the eminent practitioner,
calmly, "that will be $10 more for
j j sterilizing your system.”
“Tommy, did you carry your books
on the left side this morning?” de-
i manded his mother.
“Yee’m.”
I “Very well. Now, don't forget to
earn* them on the right side to-morrow
morning.”
"What difference does It make?’ 1
growled dad.
“That shows what kind of a fat lie;
you are,” snapped the mother ”li' the
I child didn’t alternate he might get
curvature of the spine.”
Gentleman 1 thought you were a
blind beggar?
Beggar—That’s my lay.
Gentleman—Well, you are not blind
now.
Beggar (Indignantly)- Well, sir can’t
a poor fellow take a day off occasion
ally?
Paterfamilias was lecturing his son
on education. “Look here, my boy,”
he said. “I made my pile with only a
common school education.’’
“I dare say, dad," replied the son.
’but it takes a college education to
know how to spend it.”
Mr Tnogood- 1 went under an oper
ation yesterday
Mr. Markwell You surprise me. Was
it very serious?
Mr. Too good T had a growth removed
from my head.
Mr. Markell- My goodness And here
you are about and looking well.
Mr Toogood—Oh, don't fret, old sport;
1 only had my hair cut.
“We’ve tried a.new experiment In our
village,” said the old gentleman with
gold-rimmed spectacles “We decided
that as the tendency to vanity was so
groat there ought to be some reward for
people who were capable of standing
side and rejoicing in others' success.
I So we organized a society for the pre
sentation of modesty medals.”
‘‘How did it work?” asked the inter
ested listener
i "Badly. I'm sorry to sa> As soon as
I a man won one of the medals, he would
j get so proud that we had to take it
away again.”
By DOROTHY DIX.
P ITY the poor rich girl who has
nothing to do but to amuse her
self doing things that bore her
stiff Her lot is, indeed, a hard one.
and much more deserving of our tear*
than many of the woes of the poor over
which we are accustomed to weep.
There has recently been a great furor
over a young heiress, moving in the
most exalted circle of English society,
who ran away from homo because she
wanted to make her own living The
cable was almost torn up by the roots
in an attempt to find out if the bold
adventurer had come to America, de
tectives were put upon her. track, and
finally she was found and returned to
her gilded cage, from which she will
probably never have the courage to at
tempt another flight.
The young woman's mother was so
prostrated with horror that she took
to her bed.
Society was shocked and shrugged its
shoulders, and tapped its empty fore
head with a significant intimation that
there was something wrong with the
poor girl's mind, for her mania was to
do something terrible and incomprehen
sible.
She wanted to go tojvork. She wunt-
ed to be a doer, not a waster. She
wanted to he. of service to her fellow
creatures, not a parasite on society.
She wanted some real interest in life,
not make believe ones. She wanted to
be of some use In the world, not a mere
eumberer of the ground.
Ami she was rich! And she didn’t
have to work. And lihe could have ev
ery mortal thing that money can buy! j
And she wasn’t satisfied.
No Wonder They Worry.
No wonder her family wrung their
hand* when they thought of her, and
called her peculiar, and wondered what
on earth they would do with her, for
likely as not she wouldn’t want to mar
ry a sapheaded youth with a few more
millions, or even he willing to purchase
a degenerate old roue with a title for
a husband.
But however her family and friends
may feel over this poor girl’s futile
break for freedom, she has my hearty
sympathy, for I can think of nothing
else that human ingenuity has ever in
vented that would be Buch a martyr- ;
dom of boredom as to have to live the
life of what we call “a society woman,”
tid that is nothing but just one party
after another.
Unless you happened to be built that
way.
There are, of course, women who find j
their highest happiness in buying clothes
and who ask no more blissful occupation
than to be continually taking off one
dress and hat, and putting on another
dress and hat. To them it is a great
and noble achievement to have been the
first to wear a Robespierre collar, or
to have had a skirt slit two Inches high
er in the knee than anybody else, and
if they could choose their epitaph they
would Uave, "She Was a Swell Dresser
and Was Buried in an Imported Shroud.”
carved on their tombstones.
The Auction Bridge Career.
There are other women who can make
a career out of auction bridge, and who
utisfy every need of their natures by
irhing from card table to card table.
There are others who keep themselves
from perishing of inanition by pushing
everything to the extreme, by tur
key trotting hader than anybody
else, by flirtations that border on the
ragged edse of scandal, by spending
'• Lousands of dollars for lap dogs, and
rushing from place to place as fast as
steam or gasoline will carry them.
And there are others whose highest
ambition is to know tire people that don’t
want to know' them, and who consider a
laborious life of striving well spent If it
lands them at last within the sacred
precincts of tlie four hundred where all
of .vour family affairs get into print.
To care for all of these things enough
to make them worth while you must be
!>>>rn that way, and that is what makes
the tragedy of the rich girl whose brains
were not cut on the bias and frilled in
e middle and hobbled with a blue rib
bon tied about them.
Dress doesn’t seem to her the most
important thing in the world. Nor does
she feel that bridge is the chief end of
life. To spend her time in dancing like
a monkey on a stick seems to her noth
ing less than a crime, and she abhors
the fat dinners and luncheons that she
eats to the accompaniment of fat talk,
with the same fatheads for perpetual
company.
She wearies of the artificial Interests
of those who are forever at their wits’
end to devise some new way of killing
time. She wants the real thrill of a
real Interest where you pit your own in
telligence and skill against that of oth
ers, and struggle for a real prize. She
wants to do something that is of soma
account, something that will upbuild.
She wants work and to be a worker, not
to he a dressed-up doll.
And the thing she W'ants most she
can’t have. Nobody will let her try,
even, to find out what is in her, what
strength she has, what are the measures
of her talents. There Ip nothing ieft
for her but to go in for philanthropy,
and she hates philanthropy. She wants
10 save herself, not others.
And that's why 1 say, pity the poor
rich girl. Her only salvation Is to be
born without any human qualities That
s if she Is to be happy.
Criticism Widespread.
There is a great deal of criticism of
women who want to do things, and we
hear much of the discontent among
women. People say of such-and-such
a woman that she is rich, that she’s got
u fine house, and jewels, and automo
biles. and money enough to buy every
thing she fancies; and they throw up
their hands and say. “In Heavens
name, why isn't she contented?”
The answer is. because she's got no
worthy outlet for her energy and intel
lect. Very likely such a woman inherit
ed from her father a talent for finance
liiat would have made her a Wall Street
magnate, or an executive ability that
would hav. put her in the Governor's
chair had she. been a man; and to spend
her ‘ime changing her clothes and going
to pink teas no more fills the measure
.•f these w< men's desires tnan it would
their father’s
The rich woman w ith brains and am
bition and a desire to be of use in the
world is as forlorn a figure as exists in
the world She is the victim of her
wealth much as the poorest person
i «»f his poverty, and her life is far
dalltt inn that of any worker engaged
in labor in which he is interested.
“M"
Some Practical Suggestions by
a Practical Business Woman,
Who Says Happy Marriage Is
Made Up of Little Sacrifices on
Both Sides.
By Margaret Hubbard Ayer
ARTICLE II.
VTRIMONY is a fine art. To
riticiae it properly one
must see it at a distance,
then one can find the small flaws that,
sometimes spoil the masterpiece.”
Mrs. Isabelle Kellie, a writer anti
a business woman, who has been suc
cessful at many things, including
matrimony, gives her ideas on this
subject to the Newly Weds to-day.
“A happy marriage is made up of
little sacrifices on both sides. When
these sacrifices are appreciated by th
other half they turn in to mutual
pleasures.
"It takes a great deal of thought
to make a fine art of matrimony. Few
young married people are willing to
study each other’s needs and make
allowances for each other. Married
couples soon get into the habit of
ordering each other about without
saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ A
woman will do many little services
for a man if he voices his wants
politely, and tlie same applies with
equal truth to the other sex.
"Generally one finds when a mar
riage is not ideal that the couples are
suffering from too much of each
other's society. In the days when
most people lived In houses sur
rounded by gardens the harassed
hero or heroine could flee to the arbor
and indulge in the luxury of soli
tude. But there is no such thing as
solitude in the modern fiat. And
every human being feels the need of
being alone and absolutely quiet at
times.
Does Not Harp on Trouble.
"The girl who .has been in business
before her marriage realizes that her
husband is fagged out w’hen he comes
home from his day’s work and, if she
remembers her own experience, she
knows that he can recuperate and get
rested sooner if she will refraifi from
pouring out the trials -and tribula-
MRS. ISABELLE KELLIE.
tions of the day in his ears or adding
to his nervous state by a weepy sym
pathy. Many people are like animals
when they are ill or very tired. They
want to be left absolutely"alone.
"Every person is entitled to a room
or den where they can retire and
commune with their own souls when
they need to do so, without fear of
hurting the feelings of the rest of the
family. The small apartments where
all privacy is impossible have had
their share in adding to modern
‘Nerves.’
“As modern living conditions make
it impossible for people to get the
privacy that went with larger houses
and more^ipaoe, that sense of privacy
must be recognized and respected
and fostered and the odious familiar -
I ity that inevitably breeds contempt
must be guarded against. One can
do it if one is forewarned and l think
that problem lies in lie hands of the
I wife.
! Love Doesn’t Bar Politeness.
"Love should not be a bar to polite-
| r.ess, and the fact that one is mar-
I ried is no good excuse for forget
ting those small phrases that go with
a request such as ‘Do you mind?’ or
Will you be kind enough?’ which
one would never omit to a stranger
and which smooth the rough places
wonderfully.
"There is such a thing as seeing
too much of one another, and I have
known of many couples who seem to
forget that a man needs the compan
ionship of other men just as a woman
craves that of other women.
‘‘Once the honeymoon is over I
think that a man should be allowed
one night a week for his club or his
friends, providing that the compan
ions are of the right kind, of course.
| It is a good thing for him to see oth
er men than those he meets in busi
ness.
"On the other hand, I think later
on when there are children and a
woman has no nurse for them the fa
ther could arrange to take charge of
them one evening a week and give
the mother an absolute rest, ‘an even
ing off,’ to go to the theater or see
her friends and family. Of course, a
man says that she has the entire day
to herself, but a woman with small
children has net a minute day or night
to call her own. unless some one else
takes the charge of the children.
"There would be fewer bored mar
ried couples if men and women culti
vated a hobby. The hobby may be
anything from suffrage to golf oi
yachting to suit the income and taste
of the individual, and husband and
wife should not necessarily have the
same hobby’.
"A diversity" of interests of this kind
stimulates the mind and helps con
versation when the inevitable time
comes where husband and wif * fin'’
that they have nothing new to tall;
about.’’
What Happened!
to a Girl
“O 1
H, wherV ARE the goos scis
sors? I can’t cut with these!”
Helen threw down her sew
ing and again searched through her
work basket.
"What in the Sam Hill do you want?"
growled Warren, as she moved the read
ing lamp, and raised up his papers to
look on the table.
"The scissors—rwe’ve only one pair
that'll cut. Oh, maybe Alice has taken
them in her room.”
Alice was writing—a voluminous let
ter, from the pages of closely written
note paper. She looked up with a slight
frown as Helen entered.
"Have you the good scissors in here,
Alice? I'm sorry to disturb you. Oh,
yes, here they are," seeing them on
the dresser.
Helen went back and took up her
sewing, cutting evenly with the sharper
scissors the material the duller pair
had only "chewed."
“Dear," as she thoughtfully threaded
a needle, "I don't know what to think
about all the letters Alice writes. Every
day since she came she’s spent hours
writing to some one.”
"Well, what of it?" snapped War
ren "What business Is it of ours how
ninny letters she writes?"
It’s Only to One Person.
"But it’s only to one person! It
Isn't as if she were writing home or
to a lot of school girls—she's writing
to some man!”
“How do you know it’s a man?”
“Why, no girl is going to write a
twenty-page letter to another girl and
write one every day! And, besides,
there's a man’s picture in her locket—
I saw her looking at it yesterday. And
somehow I feel it’s somebody her folks
don’t approve of or don’t know anything
about.”
“Fiddlesticks! You’re always imag
iging something. Why shouldn’t a girl
of eighteen write to a man if she wants
to?”
“If her mother knows it—yes, but
[ feel that Aunt Emma doesn’t know
thin.” persisted Helen. “And that pic
ture in her locket—it isn’t any one
of her own age—it’s a man of thirty-
five or forty. And I don’t like his face,
but it's Just the type that would attract
a young girl.”
“Oh. cut it! Can’t you see I’m try
ing to read?”
Helen sewed on in silence, but in
spite of Warren’s lack of interest and
apprehension, her thoughts kept revolv
ing about the many j>age letter Alice
was always writing, and the man s face
she had seen in the locket.
Things Were Not Right.
Intuitively she knew that thinks wore
not right, and the fact that Alice was
here under their protection gave her a
haunting sense of responsibility
The next day the noon delivery
brought Helen a leter from Alice’s
mother. Alice was shampooing her
hair in the bathroom, and Helen called
to her cheerily as she opened it.
“Better hurry up! Here’s a letter
from your mother ”
But as soon as she glanced at the
letter, she realized it was one that Alice
could not see.
“A letter from mamma?" asked Alice,
coining in. shaking her wet hair over
her towel-covered shoulders.
“But It's only a business letter.” fal
tered Helen. “Nothing that would in
terest you."
“I know what mother wrote you.” ex
citedly ”1 know why you won't let me
see that letter! She wrote about Mr.
Hampton! She's afraid I’m writing to
him. or that I’ll see him—isn't )hat it?
Oh, you needn’t answer, 1 knot# It is.”
“Yes. that’s what she has 'Written
about “ Helen looked at her steadily
“And don’t think. Alice, that your
people have had enough trouble t iiLnui
you causing them this extra worry
“Then why don’t they let me alone?
I’m eighteen—I’m old enough to know
what I’m doing. Why shouldn't I write
to Mr. Hampton—and see him, too, if I
want to?”
"Alice, I don’t know" anything about
this man, but I do know' that your
mother wouldn’t object to your seeing
him without some good reason.”
"Oh, mother!” with an impatient
shrug, “what does she know about
Mr. Hampton? Just because he’s a
little older than I! And he’s so much
more interesting and clever than any
of those Dayton boys I know". Why
I’ve always said I couldn’t care for
a man who wasn’t a lot older. And
the fact that he’s divorced—I don’t
see what that’s got to do with it?
Lots of people have been married un
happily and it isn’t their fault.”
"Divorced! Oh, Alice, he ISN'T
divorced?”
How Foolish.
“Well is there anything disgrace
ful about that? Aren’t lots of people
divorced—nice people, too? He’s t<51d
me how unhappy he was with his
w'lfe—how r they were never con
genial. Her tastes and interests were
so different—they'd nothing In com
mon. Oh, his life has been so sad?
You can tell that by his eyes—the
most wonderful dark eyes! And he’s
so distinguished looking, and has the
most glorious voice!”
Helen sank into a chair with a help
less gasp of dismay.
“I suppose it's useless for me to try
to tell you how foolish you are. Can’t
you see no man of any principle would
talk to a young girl about his divorced
wife? Why, everything you say about
him shows”—
“Cousin Helen, I happen to love him
and I’m engaged to marry him, so
you will please not say anything
more!”
“Then I must say this, Alice, that
while you’re here, you are not to
write him another letter. I can’t
have the responsibility. Your moth
er’s to send for you the first of the
month, then she can handle the situ
ation, but while you stay here—you
must not write him again.”
“And how are you going to keep
me from writing him?”
"If you won’t respect my request—
I shall have to ask Warren to see that
you do.”
“Warren!” sniffed Alice. “Do you
think I’m afraid of him? Because
he’s always lording it over you doesn't
mean he can bully everybody else. I
don’t care if he IS my cousin. I think
he's about as selfish and overbearing
as any one I ever met. And since
you feel so free to say things against
Mr. Hampton, just let me tell you that
if I marry him he’ll be a lot kinder to
me than Warren’s ever been to you!”
And before Helen could recover
from her amazed indignation Alice
had flounced into her own room, slam
med the door and locked it
By LILLIAN LAU ?ERTY.
D earest kitten:
“IN'e been to the animal
fair, the birds and the beasi
were there, the old baboon—" and
that is about how a New York ball
strikes me to-day. But I took it
far more seriously last night. And
oh, how I wish I hadn't! Honey, you
may call some of the lit'le dances In
Savannah and Macon and August*
“slow,” and wish Joe could take yon
to a real function up in Atlanta, but
dances are happy young things, and
balls are painful old a,fairs, and 1
know.
Besides all of which, the Royce
girls hare not the costumes for bal's,
I wore my little blue charmeuse, and
felt in a blue funk when I beheld
Glory’s glory. A Callot creation ot
pale pink and apple gret n chiffon a :
done with posies and .pearls and
priceless lace.
He’d Call It Inadequite.
Now, I don't doubt that a fashion
editor would call this a most made. !
quate description, but how you 'd
come closer to describing the bewil
dering Huff that dwelt i nder Glori a
skyline plush evening coat, I don't
see. But 1 Just about pe rished when
I beheld the utter splendiferousness
of all the ladies fair at the ball.
And T. Albert Johnstone was
ashamed of the little Hoosier he had
brought along in his party. Of course
he was very polite and took a dance
but it was a turkey trot, and wc had
to sit it out. Neither 1 e nor Glory
introduced me to a soul, and if Mr,
English had not been perfectly fine
about his little Cinderella partner she
must have been a hopeless wallflower.
But he took many dances and signed
all sorts of scriggles, so it really ap
peared that I was quite a belle, and
all his introductions were so Clevel
and flattering that he fairly per- i
suaded the men I was a personage
instead of a mere little scribbler who
may never amount to anything at
all.
And how I hate the turkey trot and
the bunny hug and all the menagerie
wriggles! Why, the inventors of j
those far-from-danees forgot ail
about the fact that dancing is an ex- \
oression of noetry and r iythm! The
turkey trot is very bad meter—lots ' j
extra feet and so much swing that i:
drowns out all delicacy. Ajid a more
go-as-you-please affair you never
aw—you follow the leader—who i
your partner pro tent.—and just
when you’ve learned to wriggle an:
twist as his fancy dictates you get
a new dictator.
Kitty, think of being glad and
thankful and joyous when a dar.ee
concludes to end! But I was, and
when T. A. and Glory decided to see
for the supper and cotillon, or what- 1
ever they have at these Manhattan
functions, I was happy to hear Mr.
English declare that we were both. ,
working folk and would now prooe>
to buy us a little taxi and ride home i
iti it.
f was so tired and felt Such a social
failure—badly dressed a id unab! n
mix. I just wanted to drop nr lie i
down on mother's should r and cry it
all out. And the cnly sh wilder han y
was Mr. English’s—so I sat up v<.
straight and bit my 1Jj s and
lowed all the hitter thoughts that ;
were trying to choke me.
I ’Spose I’m Engaged.
And then Mr. English suddenly
said: “Poor little girl, you have had
a stupid evening. It wat like putting
one little anemone into a bunch ?
hothouse roses. Will the delicate |
little wildflower forgive me for tak
ing her out of her woods into L ’•
atmosphere?” And then—oh, Kin
don’t ask me to explain how it j
could have happened—bi t it did—An
English took me in his arms and j
kissed me. Am I enga ^ed to him?
I suppose I am. and I don’t want to I
oe one bit, and I am so ashamed of |
some one I don’t know what to do,
and her name is—Your loving
MADGE.
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Give the
Kiddies
Lots of
Sweets
Divinity Fudge
Part /.—3-4 cup Red Velva
Syrup, 1 ox. chocolate, 1-2
cup water, 3 cups sugar, 1
teaspoonful almond extract.
Part 2. — / cup sugar, 1-2 cap
water, whites of 3 eggs, 1 cup
chopped nut meats, 1 teaspoon
ful vanilla extract.
Boil part one until a little harden*
in cold water. Boil part two 'with
out egg whites, nute and extract)
until it forme a eoft ball when tried
in cold water; remove from etaoe,
pour gradually into etiffly beaten
whitee of eggs, beating all the time.
Then boat it into part one. Now beat
the mixture for 20 minutee, add
nats and vanilla extract and pour
into buttered tine or plates Cool
and cut in eguaree. The chocolate
mtiv be omitted.
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That old notion of sweets disagreeing
with children is all wrong. The best
and biggest physicians say, “Eat
sweets, your body needs them.” They
say that when your palate craves
candy, satisfy the desire, because some
hungry tissue requires it—but you ought to make
the candy you give (Sie kiddies yourself, nnd you
ought to make it with
in the red can, because it’s the very best syrup for
candy-making.that your money can buy. It g: ves
a real tang to candy that you can’t get with any
other syrup and the very first can of Vcjva you use will prove
that what we say about It Is so. Its Just fine for cakes, too.
and other baking Yes, buy Velva in the clean, sanitary can
Buy it often and give the kiddies sweets. You can get Velva in
the green cans, too, at your grocer’s If you prefer 1L
Send for the book of Velva Recipes. No charge*
PENICK & FORD, Ltd. New Orleans, La
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