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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. gfiiiitinimn i luTullinuiUIUEI 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. r»iTmuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiHnmiiiiiiinmii)niiiii)ininininniiiniiiii 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. 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