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m St 4 ' . 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 Reward Offered for every ounce of adulteration or in ferior grade cof fee found in a sealed can of Max well House Blend. hr it. Cheak-Neat . Cal.ee Ca. j(V Nashville Haustaa Jaeksaaville cup 0uALrrr THl Toi HIN V ! 3Anc IHlNh ilAN 'SOUt J21& (ilANl Bet Hoi I r TO-D ill