Newspaper Page Text
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Advice to the
Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
NO.
P)EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
^ I am 15 and have been go
ing with a man of 27 for the past
thiue months. He says he loves
me dearly, and has given me
some nice presents. The last
time we were together we had a
quarrel, but he wants to call
again. 1X> you think it would be
proper for me to accept his com
pany? Every time we are to
gether he Insists on an early
marriage. Would it be all right
for me to marry him when my
pai'ents object? BELLE.
You foolish little girl, don’t you
know that this man is not a good
man ?
If he were he would not coax a *1*1
<»f 15 to marry him against her par
ents' wishes. You must promise, me
that you will not see him again.
Bathing Skirts Fo Be Shorter
According to Very Latest Ec
PART FAULT: PART VIRTUE.
P)EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
U I am a Kiri of 18, employed
as a stenographer, and conse
quently meet quite a number of
people.
Girl friends come out to see
me, but my mother will not let
me visit them, saying she knows
nothing about them. Hoys 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 1
have no friends, and I think it
Is partly her fault. Do you?
LONESOME.
She is right In refusing to let you
go with girls and boys of whom she
knows nothing, hut does wrong,
when you art consequently lonely,
in twitting you with being friend
less. Look on the better side of it
Be content with being friendless
rather than have the wrong kind.
MOST DECIDEDLY NOT.
D ear miss Fairfax:
I am not yet 16, am con
sidered bright and attractive,
and live with an aunt, who Ik 50
and who “pooh-poohs" my love
affairs. 1 have been correspond
ing with a boy of 13, and as
love has not entered our letters,
and we have had to write about
something, we have got Into the
habit of arguing. 1 do not care
for him except as a friend, but
i do not feel that he haa treat
ed me right in falling to answer
my last letter. I do not want to
give him up. I have written
twice, feigning indignation bo
ra use he does not write. Shall 1
write again? ANXIOUS.
You are too young to correspond
with a boy. You may not want to
give him up, but for your own good
that is just what I want you to do.
For the Eyelashes.
W HEN the eyelashes are thin I
and weaK, a nimple treat-|
ment for strengthening: them
is to moisten one of the Angers with
lanoline, close the eyes and run the
greased linger along the edges of the
eyelids, taking care that the grease
does not get into the eyes themselves.
Weak eyebrows may also he treated
with lanoline, which should be rubbed
gently into them.
WOMAN’S ILLS ^
DISAPPEARED
Like Magic after taking Lydia
E. Pinkham’s Vegetable
Compound.
N(
>RTH BANGOR, N. Y
used
* **WL.*r
■“As l have
Lydia E.
Pinkham’s Vege.
table Compound
with great benefit 1
feel tt my duty to
write and tell you
about it. I was
ailing from female
weakness and had
headache and back
ache nearly all the
time. 1 was later
every month than [
Bhould have been
' and so sick that 1
had to go to bed.
’’Lydia K. Pmkhum's Vegetable Com
pound has made me well and these trou
bles have disappeared like magic. I
have recommended the Compound to
many women who have used it success
fully.”—Mrs. James J. Stacy, R. F. D.
No. J. North Bangor, N. Y
Up-to-the-Minute jokes
Pity the Poor
Rich Girl
By DOROTHY DIX.
"xlTY' the poor rich girl who has
nothing to do hut to amuse her-
ewly Wed Should Know
XT TILL Atlanta girls follow the bathing suit fashion as laid down by
YY 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.
Another Made Well.
I JtTSBANP (very late home from the
flubi -H’m! I told you not to sit
up for me.
Wife (aweetly) 1 didn’t 1 got
to see the sun rise.
up
ANN ARBOR. Mich.—“Lydia K. Pink-
ham s Vegetable Com pound has done
wonders for me For 'ears 1 suffered
terribly with hemorrhages and had
pains so intense that sometimes I would
faint away. 1 had femaie weakness
so bad that I had to doctor all the time
and never found relief until I took your
remedies to please my 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 St., 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?
deep
play
dis-
Beilows Poes your daughter i
on the piano?
Old Farmer (in tones of
i gust)—No, sir Hho works on it.
j pounds It. rakes It, scrapes it. jumps
on It. rolls over on It, hut there’s no
play about it. sir.
Wife (with Suffragist leanings)
Until women get the vote it is impos
sible for them to get justice in the
courts.
Husband—Tme; they ^-et more mer
cy than justice.
“Why, the sise of your hill/' cried
the angry patient to the doctor,
“makoee me boil all over!”
“Ah!” said the eminent practitioner,
calmly, “that ^*ill he $10 more for
sterilizing your system,"
were a
Gentleman 1 thought
blind beggar?
Beggar That’s my ia>
Gentleman Will, 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 hoy,”
he said, ”1 made m> pile with only a
common school education.'*
”1 dare say. dad,” replied the son,
"hut it takes a college education to
know how to spend it."
A elf doing things that bore her
tiff Her lot 1». indeed, a hard one,
and much more deserving of our tears
than many of the woes of the poor over
which we are accualomed to weep
There haa recently been a great furor
ver a young heiress, moving in the
most exalted circle of English society,
who ran away from home because she
wanted to make her own living The
'•able 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 nhe was found and returned to
her glided 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
something terrible and incomprehen
sible. .
She wanted to go to work. She want
ed to he a doer, not a waster. She
wanted to be 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
he of some use in the world, not a mere
cumberer of the ground.
And she was rich! And she didn’t
have to worn And she could have ev- I
pry mortal thing that money can buy! j
And she wasn't satisfied.
No Wonder They Worry.
No wonder her family wrung their
hands when they thought of her, and
ailed her peculiar, and wondered what
on earth they would do with h*r, for
likely ps not she wouldn’t want to mar
ry a sapheaded youth with a few more
millions, or even be willing to purchase
a degenerate old roue with a title for
a husband.
But however her family and friends i
may feel over this poor girl's futile
break for freedom, she has my hearty j
sympathy, for 1 can think of nothing
else that human ingenuity has ever in
vented that would be such a martyr
dom of boredom as to have to live the |
life of what we call “a society woman/' :
and that is nothing but just one party ;
after another.
Unless you happened to he built that j
way.
There are, of course, women who find !
their highest happiness in buying clothes
and who ask no more blissful occupation !
than to be continually taking off one |
dross and hat. and putting on another j
dress and hat. To them it is a great j
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 j
would have, "She Was a Swell Dresser
and Was Buried in an Imported Shroud,” |
carved on their tombstones.
The Auction Bridge Career.
There ure other women who can make
a career out of auction bridge, and who
satisfy every need of their natures by
.shing from card table to card table.
There arc others wno keep themselves
from perishing of inanition by pushing
everything to the extreme, by tur
key trotting hader than anybody
olse, by flirtations that border on the
ragged edse of scandal, by spending
thousands of dollars for lap dogs, and
y rushing from place to place as fast as
steam or gasoline will carry th«jm.
And there are others whose highest
ambition is to know the people that don’t
want to know them, and who consider a
I laborious life of striving well spent if it
lands them at last within the sacred
precincts of the four hundred where all
of your family affairs get Into print.
To cure for all of these things enough
to make them worth while you must be
born 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
f those who are forever at their wits'
end to devise some new way of killing
itone. She wants the real thrill of a
real interest where you pit your own In
dulgence and skill against that of oth
ers, and struggle for a real prize. She
wants to do something that is of some
account, something that will upbuild.
She wants w ork and to be a worker, not
to be a dressed-up doll.
\nd the thing she wants 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 Is nothing ieft
for her but to go in for philanthropy,
and she hates philanthropy. She wants
save herself, not others
Some Practical Suggestions by
a Practical Business Woman,
Who Says Happy Marriage Is
Made Up of Birth; Sacrifices on
Both Sides.
By Margaret Hubbard Ayer
ARTICLE II.
ATR1MONY is a fine art. To
criticise 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 and
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 the
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 the 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 flat. 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 when 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 refrain 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 we^>y 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 tlie 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 lurgier houses
and more space, that sense ui privacy
must be recognized and respected
and fostered and the odious familiar
ity that inevitably breeds contempt
must be guarded against. One can
do it if one is forewarned and l think
that problem lies in the hands of the
wife.
Love Doesn’t Bar Politeness.
"Dove should not be a bar to polite
ness, and the fact that one is mar
ried is no good excuse for forget
ting those small phrases that go with
a request such as ‘Do you mirrd?’ 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 he 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. 1 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 not 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 or
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 wife find
that they have nothing new to talk
about."
Married
e t
lire
be n
Ypa r R y mabel Herbert urner.
“O'
And that’s why I say, pity the poor
rich Kiri Her only .salvation is to be
oper-
S5
ESTABL'«HED 23 YEARS
,DR.E.G. GRIFFIN’S
GATE CITY DENTAL ROOMS
BgST WORK AT LOWEST PRICES
All Work Guaranteed.
-lours 8 to e Phone M. 1708-Sundays 9-1
J4' . Whitehall St. Over Brown A AMens
Mr. Toogood—I wont under an
at Ion yesterday.
Mr. Markwell—You surprise me. M as
it very serious?
Mr. Toogood—I had a growth removed
from my head.
Mr. Markell—My uroodness. And here
you are about and looking: well.
Mr. Toogood—-Oh. don't fret, old sport;
I only had my hair out. •
"We’ve tried a new experiment in our
village/' said the old gentleman with
gold-rlmmcd spectacle*. “We decided
that as the tendency to vanity was so
great there ought to be some reward for
people who were capable of standing
aside and rejoicing in others' success.
So we organized a society for the pre
sentation of modesty medals/'
“How did it work"'' asked the inter
ested listener
"Badly, I'm sorr\ to sa> Vs soon as
a man won one of the medals, he would
get so proud that we had to take it
nwtt) again "
.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
a fine house, and Jewels, and automo
biles and money enough to buy every
thing she fancies and. they throw up
their hand? and say, "In Heaven’?
name, why isn't she contented?”
The Answer is. because she’s got no
worthy outl.u fer her energy and intel
lect. Very likely such a woman inherit
ed from hot father a talent, for finance
mat would hflve made her a Wall Street
magnate, or an executive ability that
would nave put her in the Governor's
chair bad sue been a man; and to spend
her ‘ 0110 changing her clothes and going
to pink teas no more fills the measure
of hose w» men's desires than it would
their father’s
The rich v. ernan with brains and am-
bitten and a desire to be of use In the
world is as forlorn a figure as exists in
the wild She is the victim of her
wealth >s much as the poorest person
is of his v- verty. and her life is far
• n that of any worker engaged
in lubo’ ia which he is interested.
H. where ARE the goo* scis
sors? 1 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—we’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. “1 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. “W'hat business is it of ours how
many 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
L 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
I feel that Aunt Emma doesn’t know
this," 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 page 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 were
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 Alices
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.
Dayton. Ohio, April 20. 1913.
Dear Helen—
You are already doing so much for
Alice and for us all in letting her
visit you at this time, that I hesi
tate to worry you further But I
have just found that Alice has been
both disobeying and deceiving me
I hardly know how to write you
about this, as it is a difficult thing
for any mother to write, but now
that Alice is with you. I feel that
you must know, so you can prevent
any further trouble.
l-ast fall she met somewhere a
man who travels for a Cincinnati
motor car company. He called to
see her several times at the house,
but as he was much older and not
at all the type of man I would wish
Alice to know, we discouraged and
then forbade his visits.
Then 1 found she was writing him.
We stopped this—or thought we did.
But when I received her letter yes
terday—on the back of one of the
sheets she had begun a letter to
him. It was only a few lines, and
she had written to me on the other
side without noticing it.
Now we are afraid that this man,
knowing she is in New York, will
go there to see her. He is capable
of doing anything. So I am writing
to beg you not to let her see him
under any circumstances, and above
all not to let her go out alone.
As T know this is a great respon
sibility to force upon you. we are
going to have her come back the
first of the month. I will write you
again to-morrow, but I want to mail
this now, so you will^et it as quick
ly as possible,
1 thought cur flooded, ruined home
was sufficient trouble, but now it
seems that we must meet this also.
Anxiously,
YOUR AUNT EMMA.
“A letter from mamma?” asked Alice,
coming 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.”
“A business letter?” her voice was
frankly unbelieving. “What business
could mother write about that I
couldn't see?”
“Well, it s a personal letter then—one
that I don’t wish to show you." and
Helen turned away with an air of final
ity.
Mother Would Object.
Even in an old kimono with wet
stringing hair, Alice was strikingly
pretty. And now when ’she followed
Helen and with flashing eyes faced her
defiantly, Helert was struck anew wi^h
her beauty.
"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 that it?
Oh, you needn't answer, T know it is. "
“Yes, that's what she has written
about.” Helen looked at her steadily.
“And don’t you think. Alice, that your
people'have had enough trouble without
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 sajd I couldn’t care for
a man who wasn't a lot older. And
the fact that he’s divorced—I don’f
see what that’s got to do with it?
Lots of people have been married un
happily and tt isn’t their fault.”
“Divorced! Oh, Alice, he (ISN'T
divorced?”
“Well is there anything disgrace
ful about that? Aren’t lots of people
divorced—nice people, too? He’s tdld
me how unhappy he was with hi*
wife—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.
How Foolish.
‘T 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’in engaged to marry him, so
you will please not say anything
more!”
“Then l 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. “Po 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. 1 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 ihe door and locked it.
To Make Blankets Soft.
Very few home laundresses are
aware of the fact that blankets, when
they have been washed and drier
thoroughly, should be well beater,
with an ordinary carpet beater. This
has the effect of making the wool
light and soft and giving the blank
ets a new and fresh appearance.
KODAKSg™
First Class Finishing and En
larging. A complete stock dm*
pistes, papers, chemicals, etc.
Special Mail Order Department for
out-of-town customers
Send for Catalogue and Price List
(. K. HfiWKtS C) Kodak Uopartmen
14 Whitehall St. ATLAJMTA. GA
foee
naeet frieacL/
cm mcQum
9VALT0M ST — JUJT OIF PEACHTREE •
WhatHappenec
to a Girl
By LILLIAN LAUFERTY
D EAREST KITTEN:
* ••I've been to the arUffi |
fair, the birds and the bed
were there, the old baboon-" J
that Is about how a New York b?
strikes me to-day. But I took!
far more seriously last night
oh. how I wish I hadn’t: Honey T( i
may call some of the little dan<- ts j
Savannah and Macon and AuguJ
"«Iow," and wish Joe could take yj
to a real function up in Atlanta bl
dances arc happy young things aj
balls are painful old affairs, a„dl
know.
Besides all of which, the R 0 J
girls have not the costumes for ball
1 wore my little blue charmeuse, J
felt In a blue funk when I
Glory s glory A Callot creation
pale pink and apple green chiffon al
done with posies and pearls
priceless lace. a -
He’d Call It Inadequate.
Now, I don't doubt that a faahtJ
editor would call this a most SdJ
quate description, but how
come closer to describing the he»J
dering fluff that dwelt under aim?
skyline plush evening coat. 1 don
see. But I just about perished whJ
I beheld the utter splendiferous™
of all the ladies fair at the ball
And T. Albert Johnstone i
ashamed of the little Hoosier he hi
brought along In his party Of coun
he was very polite and took a dai
but it was a turkey trot, and we i
to sit it out. Neither he nor Ql
introduced me to a soul, and If l
English had not been perfectly I
about his little Cinderella partner,u
must have been a hopeless wallflowj
But he took many dances and sin
all sorts of scriggles, so it really |
peared that I was quite a belle, a
all his introductions were so cl«i
and flattering tliat he fairly p«
suaded the men I was a personJ
instead of a mere little scribbler w|
may never amount to anything
all.
And how I hate the turkey trot as
the bunny hug and all the menage!
wriggles! Why, the inventors
those far-from-danees forgot
about the fact that dancing is an i
pression of Doetrv and rhythm! 1,
turkey trot is very bad meter—lots!
extra feet and so much swing that|
drowns out all delicacy. And a mo
go-as-you-please affair you m
saw—you follow the leader—who I
your partner pro tern.—and 1
when you’ve learned to wriggle ,
twist as his fancy dictates you
a new dictator.
Kitty, think of being glad _
thankful and Joyous when a daa
concludes to end! But I was, il
when T. A. and Glory decided to stj
for the supper and cotillon, or Whs
ever they have at these Manhattl
functions, I was happy to hear 1
English declare that we were to-
working folk and would now proel
to buy us a little taxi and ride hos
In it. L
I was so tired and felt such asocl
failure—badly dressed ami unable r
mix. I just wanted to drop my heL
down on mother’s shoulder and cryl
all out. And the c-nly shoulder hanfl
was Mr. English’s—so I sat up ver
straight and bit my lips and sin
lowed all the bitter thoughts f a
were trying to choke me.
I ’Spose I’m Engaged
And then Mr. English
said: “Poor little girl, you have I
a stupid evening. It was like puttl
one little anemone into a bunch |
hothouse roses. Will the rlelto
little wildflower forgive me for i
lng her out of her woods into
atmosphere?” And then—oh, K
don’t ask me to explain how it (
could have happened—but it did—
English took me in his arms
kissed me. Am I engaged to ki
T suppose I am, and I don't wantl
oe one bit, and I am so ashamedl
some one I don’t know what to r
and her name is—Your loving I
MADOfl
Oldest Love Letter.
T HE following epistle from a
stricken swain to the objecj
his affections dates from the tr
of the patriarch Abraham,
forms part of a large collection of I
vate letters and commercial documa
found in the ruins of the Babylon
city of Sippas and now deposited*
Constantinople;
“I hereby make known to Bfbla ’
follows: As regards myself. GW
Markuk, may tHe gods Samas (sunt (
Marduk Merodach of the Bible) fo r J
name’s sake (i. e., out of love to f
grant you a long life. I herewith a
to inquire as to your welfare; send!
tidings if all is well with you. I|
at present in Babylon and have
seen you. which makes me feel \
anxious. Do send me word how
are getting on, so that I may rej<1
come in the month of Arachsaml
For my sake may you live forever I
$1,000
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